Hey man, my friend's mom's Filipino Spaghetti is the shit!Filipino culture and Italian culture are far closer than anyone would expect too, due to the Catholic and Spanish influence on both of them; the meme about the Philippines being the Mexico of Asia, here, could be somewhat different, if both countries are able to pull their shit together.
Of Rajahs and Hornbills: A timeline of Brooke Sarawak
- Thread starter Al-numbers
- Start date
Filipino culture and Italian culture are far closer than anyone would expect too, due to the Catholic and Spanish influence on both of them; the meme about the Philippines being the Mexico of Asia, here, could be somewhat different, if both countries are able to pull their shit together.
Considering OTL's influences, it is a shame that 'Filipinos: The Latin World's Asian Cousins They Never Knew!' isn't a fully realized term because of the 'American Commonwealth' era. A Filipino, Spaniard, and Italian person could find a lot in common with each other in soooo many ways, and even more so in TTL.
And as for being the Mexico of Asia, given that the Philippines formed one end of the Manila-Acapulco Spanish galleon trade and governed under the Viceroyality of New Spain, one could conceivably write a good TL about the islands being a colony of Mexico! Heck, there were mestizo-Mexican neighborhoods in Manila up until the end of the Spanish era!
EDIT: I also find it humorous that no one is batting an eye to Sulu and Maguindanao unifying through marriage, or the Sulu sultan's haughty and arrogant manners.
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I took it to be more symbolic than anything. But really I also wasn't sure what you meant by the union. Are the states actually unifying? Is Maguindanao coming into sulu control? Is this a Personal Union that? being created (Personal unions aren't really an Asian sorta thing) Does that mean that since sulu seems to unifying through the male it'll be administered from Sulu? I know the sultanate of Sulu in has (or had) enough pull today to arm a small group of men :https://www.csis.org/analysis/royal-army-sulu-invades-malaysia so it's conceivable that if they start early enough with enough backing they might enforce independence.
Didn't know but apparently President Taft met Jamalul Kiram II. Maybe if a friendship came about the US could recognize Sulu independence (perhaps with the added benefit of preferential port/base rights). Or after the Spanish-American war
It's partly-symbolic, partly-serious. On the one hand, Sulu possesses an independent streak a mile wide and really doesn't like to get involved in other states' affairs unless it benefits them (Sultan Badaruddin's arrogance partly stems from this). But on the other hand, Spanish rule over the archipelago has gotten to a point that both Sulu and Maguindanao realizes "we need each other". Whether this translates into a full unification of sultanates is still in the future - you're right in that personal unions are an alien concept for Southeast Asia - but the marriages between the royal children of both states indicate that some sort of cooperation is being hammered down.
In the end, it all comes down to the big problem:
Whether this means Sulu will get independence by itself, or through a union or an arrangement with Maguindanao... that's a trickier prospect.
Didn't know but apparently President Taft met Jamalul Kiram II. Maybe if a friendship came about the US could recognize Sulu independence (perhaps with the added benefit of preferential port/base rights). Or after the Spanish-American war
Well, Taft wasn't president back then (I think this was back in 1901) but it is amusing that he was perhaps the first American head-of-state (or something close) that actually went to the Philippines during the Commonwealth era. Also, either the man is a giant or Taft got some really good food during his growing years!
Also, who said the United States shall be fighting the Spanish?
Alone, that is...
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I think that Al-Numbers was referring to height more. While Taft was apprarently a heavyweight wrestler in his youth and reasonably tall compared to some of his fellows, it does seem that there were also some pervy hobbit fanciers among Jamalul Kiram II's ancestors, so the discrepancy in size is magnified by a rather tall president and a tiny little prince.
Interlude: the value of salt, in and around Miri
In and around Miri, Kingdom of Sarawak, Sometime near the end of the Great War
Well... what looked like a hut?
The structure wasn’t like any sort of temporary shelter Paran had seen. With the painted white pillars and stone-raised wooden floor and the sheer largeness of the whole form, it looked nothing like the small stick-and-leaf constructions he and his friends had built when they were children. Back then, they made their lepo shelters for fun; to watch over their tribe’s paddy fields from hungry mouths.
At least it’s large enough for our wares today.
Settling down on the hut’s floor, Paran and his partners unloaded the woven baskets strapped onto their backs, taking out tubes upon tubes of the most precious good they have carried for weeks: Mountain salt. Individually wrapped in a layer of palm leaves and corded with strong rattan – the most excellent batches are placed in hollow bamboo – each tube was carefully noted, counted, and lain out in an ordered pile, offering the salt the respect it deserved for the weeks of labour poured into their creation.
As they should be. Now then. Let’s see if you are as famed as they said.
The opening of their trade began with a shout. With some prodding from a few lowlanders who accompanied the group as protectors, the gathering of people transformed into a line that snaked from the front steps to across the open field. Looking at them, Paran wondered what his chief would say if he witnessed the sight. Probably how irresponsible they are. To think the Boat Brothers and their salt-gifts created this demand [1], and yet these lowlanders have the great saltwaters nearby to make their own! The coming of the Rajah was a needed respite, but thank the gods we only do this once every few months!
Then again, if the great saltwaters are as medicinal as their mountain cousins, the lowlanders wouldn’t crave the latter as much.
Pushing the thought out, Paran prepared the scales and began the exchange. A person would walk up the steps and sit down, explaining to an interpreter how many salt-tubes are desired. But the price is always firm: no coins nor scraps of paper, no; the Kelabit and Lun Bawang mountainfolk have no use for that. What his peoples instead sought was rice – in small cloth sacks or leaf-woven pouches, so long that it can be opened and the grains inspected and weighed. If the amount is agreeable and the rice unadulterated, Paran allowed his partners to hand over the tubes.
But then there are the ones who don’t have rice on their hands. The ones that have bolts of cloth or pieces of gold, silver, or iron on hand, some of them decorative. While Paran might be willing to exchange mountain salt for a few such items – the women would adore the patterns and the mountain smiths the metals – a person can’t eat cloth or metal. One particular man, a foreigner from his looks, was insistent on paying them with a pouchful of metal coins and became desperate when Paran and his cohorts disapproved. Eventually, the purchaser ran off and returned later with some strange iron tools he was willing to part with. If nothing else, at least they can be smelted.
He got one salt-tube. One.
And speaking of the man, the people whom desired the tubes were a surprising bunch. Paran thought it was mostly the lowlander Malays and Dayaks whom seek the mountain salt, but there were a number of foreigners too in the line, hailing from lands he never even knew. There were some with slanted eyes, some with turbans and dark skin, and the person who bought the last salt-tube had… green eyes and what looked like red hair! Why did he colour that?
But with him, the day’s wares are over. As the interpreter announced the closing of the exchange to the disgruntled stragglers waiting outside, Paran straightened his spine after what seemed like hours of sitting forward. I need to hunch around less. With the baskets now full with burgeoning rice, he wondered if his back could handle carrying the load back to the riverboat.
I wonder if I can ask for some help.
********************
“Incredible. Is that… what I think it is?”
Syahrul the houseboy knew his employers would be interested.
Of course, given the rarity of the strange object (now lying on the cool wood of the dinner table) and how it played a part in the Rajah’s war in the deep heart of Borneo, Syahrul had a hunch that the Lindermann family would be, at least, a bit curious. Then again, anyone would be as to the origins of the legendary mountain salt of the Kelabits, harvested from the storied golden valleys of the deep interior. Now, not only is every family member gathered in the dining room, but almost every servant in the household had come to watch as well!
They were always curious about things like this. Silently, Syahrul gave a prayer of thanks for finding employment with such an agreeable family. For all their great wealth and Encik Lindermann’s high position at the nearby oil wells, their household was a surprisingly pleasant one through their willingness to learn the local Malay. Besides asking Syahrul of any stories he knew, the family also walks through town every few weeks or so, collecting anything that looked interesting in their eyes. In that, they were much better than the last family Syahrul worked; those people barely tried to understand Malay at all.
And speaking of the house’s head… “Let me get my notebook, first. Wait.”
And quickly as he spoke, Encik Lindermann left and returned with a book, a pen, and a sharp pair of scissors in his arms. And yet, he scarcely noticed his wife and children’s fond exasperation at all. “Alright. An… diesem… tag… unser… diener…”
They weren’t all perfect, though. Syahrul wouldn’t say it here, but the Bahasa Jerman of the family was the most disagreeable form of speech he had ever heard.
Down the table, their beautiful darling daughter Sofie was even more curious than her parents. Coddled in the arms of her nanny, she craned her neck and spoke in that weird Jerman of theirs. "Was ist da drin, Pa?"
“Warte zuerst, Liebling. Syahrul, how much rice did you trade to get this much?”
He thought of the pouch he took that morning. “About a kati, or so.”
“And how did the salt-sellers calculate the rice to the number of tubes?”
“One of them brought an iron scale and some weights. They gave out the tubes depending on how our rice weighed.”
Mem Lindermann looked surprised at that. “So they already know a thing or two about equivalent exchange? How did they learn that fast?”
“I think they already knew how to exchange goods and such…” The washerman Jamal piped from one end of the room. “…From trading their salt in the mountains. Some of the Dayaks in town are as clever as the Chinese in these things. That also may be where they got their scales from.”
“Alright. Now, for what’s inside…” Encik Lindermann took up the scissors and slowly cut through the rattan twine in one end. Peeling back the layers of wrapped leaves, Syahrul could almost hear the anticipation of the room. What did the storied salt look like?
“…Oh.”
The inside was… less exciting than expected.
The salt within looked tough but brittle, but what surprised Syahrul was how dirty it looked. The salt grains weren’t as pure white as those that are usually sold in town, but coloured with splotches of brown and even black! In all, it didn’t like the sort of salt anyone would use.
“Interesting. And the taste – (Encik Lindermann used his smallest finger to scrape off the end, and placed it on his lips) – is… less salty than sea salt? Syahrul, did you know of this?”
He shook his head. “No Encik.” He then explained of what he did know; that the mountainfolk he met claimed that their salt had medicinal value, that it can heal bones and bruises and make the body strong. “They said of adding this to their food to help with fever, sore throat, and even in women’s issues. Some have even said of presenting salt-tubes as gifts!”
In the arms of her nanny, young Sofie looked perplexed.
“But, who wants salt as a gift?”
********************
“Please, is it satisfactory?”
Connor Branagh grew concerned at the silence.
Perhaps it was too much to think that the father and the chieftain would quickly agree, but he hoped his sincerity would make itself clear with the gift. As it is, the two were still stunned by what he presented, the father’s fingers still tracing the lines of twined rattan on the object.
Turning the salt-tube over, the Iban man finally said something in the creole Malay they both know, “You really are devoted to this, aren’t you?”
Connor nodded. “I do.”
Beside the father, the chieftain looked… not stern, but definitely more serious. “I never thought I would see this. Please understand, it is not that I think it is fundamentally wrong, but this is… new for us. To be wed is usually a matter for other people like us, yes, and we do share the same Kristian faith. But no outsider of your race has ever married into our tribe and family. Or even considered it.”
“I know. So please accept my… sincerity in this. My… ikhlas?” That was a word Connor never thought he would use. Then again, he just learned what it meant days ago from his Malay and Dayak mates.
The situation still felt a tad surreal. Connor didn’t expect his life to journey here, of all places. When his family decided to move abroad from Connacht, everyone wanted to follow his cousin and move to sunny Australia. [2] But with the chance to see the world that he dreamt as a child, Connor argued that they should explore their options; Penang and Medan had thriving foreign communities, and the African Cape was always on the lookout for more immigrants. There were even Irish and Welsh groups in places like Brazil, Argentina, and Chile!
To say that he was rebuked was an understatement. The resulting firestorm within the household was enough to convince him to set out alone.
Mother would scream if she knew my heart to fall in Borneo.
“Ikhlas you are, but I need to ask: do you know what you are marrying into?” The father’s gaze was dark.
Connor gulped. “I know that I must abide by the rules of the longhouse, and the customs and practices of the tribe. Even if we live outside the longhouse, I must abide by your rules and come here if trouble arises. And I know that I must respect my ‘Bini’ – my wife.”
“The proper word is ‘Nguai’ – my spouse. And it is more than that.” The chieftain now explained. “If you enjoin with us, you must be aware of what we do and what this longhouse stands for. If there is a gathering held for a surprising incident, you will need to attend and give your voice. Your problems shall be our problems, but so shall be the opposite: our issues shall be yours. And given your form, eyes, and hair, you might be called to speak for us to the Omputeh – the White People that now live in the town. Can you do that?”
The last part momentarily startled Connor. He knew his Irish appearance already made him a small fascination among the locals – the Dayak mountain salt-seller couldn’t help but stare at his green eyes and reddish hair during the entire exchange – but he never thought the tribe would use it as a means to be heard.
But with that, the answer came easily. “I can. I promise.”
“…Good.” The chieftain now held the salt-tube as a prized treasure. “Thank you for the gift. To bring a rarity as this is a high mark of true devotion, and you seem truly honest in wanting know us all. But I need to speak with the other elders first before moving forward. Can you stay outside for a moment?”
“Of course, thank you.” And with that, Connor stood up and made the parting pleasantries before walking back through the longhouse’s verandah. All around him, the adjourned gathering of families began to move apart, and through it all, he could see the radiant form of Layang, looking at him with the promise of a future.
For a moment Connor mused on how his mother and father could react once he wrote back to Sydney. Shock, perhaps. I was always the odd one out.
But as he glanced at Layang, her beauty undimmed by the surrounding world, Connor thought it was worth it.
********************
Cheong hoped he wasn’t too late.
Rushing with the last of his strength, he burst through the door of the housing shack and passed the leaf-wrapped tube to the closest person he saw. With what little energy left, Cheong let the momentum of his body push himself through the crowd, the massed bodies parting their way until he finally reached the centre of his sorrow.
Spread out on the bed, at the very back wall, lay the dying Kai Heng Soo.
Cheong could only crumple in despair.
It had been nearly a week since his sickness began, and the former Head of the workers looked like he hardly recovered. Kai’s pallid face barely moved, but Cheong could see his eyes sliding just so to see his new visitor. For a moment, it seemed the man’s head might move up to greet him, as if he was ashamed to be welcomed in such a sorry state in bed, but Kai’s efforts ended with a “eeeehh…” before he sank down upon the dirty pillow, exhausted. Only his arm moved then, and Cheong could only grasp it tenderly.
Goh-Goh, I’m here. [3]
There was movement, and the crowd parted again to allow another close. It was friend, Tan the coolie, holding a steaming bowl of broth no doubt spiced with the hard-to-earn salt. Going to the other side of the bed, Tan crouched down and blew on a spoonful of broth before bringing it to Kai’s lips. For a second, the man’s mouth seemed immovable, but Kai slowly parted his teeth and allowed the liquid to enter.
Cheong didn’t know how long he stayed there, gathering back his energy whilst staring at his friend spoon-feeding his work-brother. With the repetitiveness of the motion, his mind began to wonder… It was a saving grace that he recalled how the mountainfolk abhorred coins and so ‘borrowed’ some iron tools from across the oilfields, not to mention hiding them in town before the forest men came with their loads of special salt. All the same, Cheong knew he acted madly when he came before the salt-sellers, desperately pleading in broken Malay for the wild men to accept the pouch of Sarawak Dollar coins everyone had scrounged up from their meagre salaries.
But they rejected. With the salt-sellers’ refusal and their visible supplies falling dangerously low, Cheong had to take the biggest gamble to retrieve those iron tools and pray that they can be traded.
How in the world did I even sprint that fast?
The clatter of the spoon on an empty bowl shook him from his contemplation. Despite the medicinal meal, the bedridden Kai still looked malnourished and weak, but his eyes are now closing and the rhythm of his chest indicated he was going to sleep. Energy recovered, Cheong took one last look at his work-brother before standing up. If Kai wanted to rest, he didn’t want to disturb him.
Opening the shack door, a wave of fresh air struck Cheong’s face, but he also smelled the underlying cloyness of what the locals call ‘minyak tanah’ – ground oil. Wafting everywhere along the breeze, it wasn’t a welcoming smell. Closing the door behind (he hoped the crowd within would give their Head some peace and quiet), Cheong viewed the bleak surroundings. The shacks of his and Kai’s were laid out all behind him in a deplorable row of workers’ housing. To his left, fields and hills were pockmarked with oil towers that soared into the air, pumping out the black gold that induced many companies to employ people like Cheong, all the way from China. To his right, in the distance, stood a towering mass of steel, iron, and metal pipes, refining the black gold before shipping it off to ports around the world… maybe even back to his homeland. [4]
But without homelanders like Cheong and the others reaping all the benefits.
We shouldn’t be living like this. No one should live like this.
A light crinkling in his trousers distracted him. Oh, right. Putting his hand into the left pocket, Cheong pulled out a crumpled leaflet that he found in a trash bin whilst wandering the town last night, looking for a place to stash the iron tools. Now in the sunlight, Cheong could now see why the scrap of paper so interested him enough to fish it out from the other mass of garbage. The title was in some strange language that he couldn’t recognize – is that Spanish? – but the main text of the paper was in Guoyu, and the first line alone was enough to grab Cheong’s mind.
‘Workers of the World, You have nothing to Break but your Chains!’
Notes:
1) Lepo= temporary shelter often built for hunting and watching from a distance. Used mostly by the Kelabit.
2) Encik = Malay term for ‘Mister’..
3) Bahasa Jerman = Malay for ‘German Language’.
4) Kati = an old unit of measurement in China and Southeast Asia, equivalent to 600 grams.
5) Mem = a borrowing from the English ‘Maam’.
6) Ikhlas = borrowed from Arabic, the Malay version means something akin to ‘Sincerity’.
7) Guoyu = ‘National Language’. Usually applied to non-Han languages IOTL and ITTL.
2) Encik = Malay term for ‘Mister’..
3) Bahasa Jerman = Malay for ‘German Language’.
4) Kati = an old unit of measurement in China and Southeast Asia, equivalent to 600 grams.
5) Mem = a borrowing from the English ‘Maam’.
6) Ikhlas = borrowed from Arabic, the Malay version means something akin to ‘Sincerity’.
7) Guoyu = ‘National Language’. Usually applied to non-Han languages IOTL and ITTL.
1) Boat Brothers – the Peja’ Alud from Post #1,641
2) Irish immigration to Australia was surprisingly high throughout the 19th and early 20th centuries, though the numbers paled when compared to that of the United States. By the end of the 1800’s, 27% of all Australian settlers had some Irish ancestry and even into the early 1900’s, there were an estimated 180,000 Irish citizens in the process of migrating into the dominion per year.
3) In the kinship system of the Cantonese, one way to address a brother in general (and especially an older brother) is Goh-Go. However, the first term can also be duplicated to show intimacy, such as Goh-Goh.
4) Late Qing China imported voluminous amounts of refined oil IOTL, most of which came from the United States. In TTL, they have some more options from nearby Southeast Asia, but the imports are still pushing Peking’s finances into the red.
2) Irish immigration to Australia was surprisingly high throughout the 19th and early 20th centuries, though the numbers paled when compared to that of the United States. By the end of the 1800’s, 27% of all Australian settlers had some Irish ancestry and even into the early 1900’s, there were an estimated 180,000 Irish citizens in the process of migrating into the dominion per year.
3) In the kinship system of the Cantonese, one way to address a brother in general (and especially an older brother) is Goh-Go. However, the first term can also be duplicated to show intimacy, such as Goh-Goh.
4) Late Qing China imported voluminous amounts of refined oil IOTL, most of which came from the United States. In TTL, they have some more options from nearby Southeast Asia, but the imports are still pushing Peking’s finances into the red.
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People's and cultures collide on our return to glorious Sarawak. And communism to?! I really loved the one about the Irishman and his Dayak wife. It reminded me of my own mother and father. Wonderful chapter as always.
Ephraim Ben Raphael
Banned
Can you remind me again why the salt tubes are so significant? Excellent update btw.
It seems to be a medicinal thing. It's unrefined salt from a source deep in the jungle that people believe can help with pain etc i.e the Chinese guy. It also seems rare in that house staff crowded around at its unveiling.
I truly love this timeline. I have nothing meaningful to contribute beyond that, but it has that Malê Rising humanism that lifts the spirits.
This update felt particularly alive. People of so many origins and motivations, united by the mystical highland salt. Excellent!
As to why the others see such extensive value in them, the expedition of the Boat Brothers brought thirty tubes of the salt as tribute for the Rajah so he might bring peace to the interior. Given these were the first highlanders anyone in Miri had ever seen, and the salt they brought with them was so valued to them, it seems to have brought a burst of interest by the people of Miri to get some of this stuff for their own.
The tribes of the montane interior place extreme value on salt, which they refine from springwater, due to the extensive time and labor required to produce any; it is also believed to have medical properties. These are then stored in tubes to keep them safe from the elements.
As to why the others see such extensive value in them, the expedition of the Boat Brothers brought thirty tubes of the salt as tribute for the Rajah so he might bring peace to the interior. Given these were the first highlanders anyone in Miri had ever seen, and the salt they brought with them was so valued to them, it seems to have brought a burst of interest by the people of Miri to get some of this stuff for their own.
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I guess you can say that the people in Miri craved for that salty mineral
Okay, I'll see myself out before I become a walking target practice
Okay, I'll see myself out before I become a walking target practice
Well, seems like Charles V shared same opinion with ya. He speak it with his horse.
Thank you.
I find that, in both personal and general terms, some of the greatest things can arise from the clash of different peoples and cultures together, and Sarawak is going to have this in spades. As for Connor and Layang, a long time ago, someone here asked whether an Irish community could form in Sarawak. Now, I can finally (somewhat) answer that question!
As for the communism surprise, with this TL's Philippines aside, it's very amusing to remind people that leftist figures have been coming to Southeast Asia since the 1870's. One old book on Sarawak even noted (anecdotally) how some white members of the Dutch East Indies' armed forces were, in fact, French communists.
Question is, will it go as it usually does?
What Sphenodon and The Merovingian said, basically. The difficulty of refining mountain salt in Borneo's interior highlands, the logistics of transportation, and it's supposed medicinal properties (which may have some grain of truth, though take this with a grain of salt. eyyyy... ) made mountain salt a prized hot commodity in coastal Miri. The added significance of the salt being a tributary gift to Rajah Clayton further increased their status, prompting many to seek it out.
I still think Jonathan Edelstein has a much better grasp of humanity than mine! but thank you.
I guess you can say that the people in Miri craved for that salty mineral
Okay, I'll see myself out before I become a walking target practice
*Fires blowpipe dart at you*
Ey, Syahrul should be thankful he's working with the Lindermanns. Imagine his days if he works for a household that speaks Hungarian... 🤯
Graphic: ethnolinguistic map of Borneo
As an addition to the update above, here is something that I have just found today: a complete map of the linguistic divisions of Borneo. The island's ethnic and linguistic diversity has been noted a few times before, and several maps have been posted here to show this. But this is perhaps the most detailed map I have found that truly captures the sheer mind-bogglingness that is Borneo's ethnic groups. While I do have some doubts regarding a few linguistic placements (the Melanau region being that small? And that uninhabited stretch of southern Sabah... really?), this map is a really good visualization of the island nonetheless.
(Also, if there is one thing that gripes me, it's that a lot of relevant information can be searched throughout the internet, only to be unsearchable due to my sheer denseness and ignorance. If I had this map early on...)
An interesting observation is how some linguistic regions are heavily elongated - the Kelabit, Lundayeh, and Bakumpai in the south are really notable in this, often corresponding to regional rivers and waterways. Riverine travel was a common feature in Bornean life, but it was really indispensable to some tribes and may even function as a driver of acculturation, converting tribes into regional blocs through trade, social happenings, and wars. More relevantly, most salt springs are found in the central Bornean mountains that straddle the border between Indonesia and Malaysia, and the river trade that grew around this (alongside the proximity to medieval Brunei) may be what grew the Kayan, Kelabit, and Lundayeh subgroups to dominate north-central Sarawak.
(Also, if there is one thing that gripes me, it's that a lot of relevant information can be searched throughout the internet, only to be unsearchable due to my sheer denseness and ignorance. If I had this map early on...)
An interesting observation is how some linguistic regions are heavily elongated - the Kelabit, Lundayeh, and Bakumpai in the south are really notable in this, often corresponding to regional rivers and waterways. Riverine travel was a common feature in Bornean life, but it was really indispensable to some tribes and may even function as a driver of acculturation, converting tribes into regional blocs through trade, social happenings, and wars. More relevantly, most salt springs are found in the central Bornean mountains that straddle the border between Indonesia and Malaysia, and the river trade that grew around this (alongside the proximity to medieval Brunei) may be what grew the Kayan, Kelabit, and Lundayeh subgroups to dominate north-central Sarawak.
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