From a Sarawak Prison
A letter by Nancy Rolfe in Lambir Prison, Miri, Sarawak, taken out on
25/7/1991

The mud of the compound is being drenched by monsoonal rain.  I'm sitting in
a corner of the garden, corrugated iron and barbed wire forming the
perimeter.  The garden is pleasant - bougainvillea, hibiscus and even a
jasmine bush flourish.  But it feels strange and it wasn't until a few days
ago that I realised why.  All the bushes are planted away from the fenceline
and there are no trees - this garden, in the women's section of Lambir
prison, is 'escape-proof'.

It's day four of our sixty-day sentence for criminal trespass and with one
piece of typing paper and a blunt pencil in hand, it's time to record the
story of how I came to be here.

When looking back upon my life, I can see the threads weaving together to
reach this point, themes emerging, hiding and then resurfacing to their
fullest expression in the events of the last three weeks.  To have been a
participant in the planning and action at Kuala Baram in Sarawak on July 5th,
to openly and honestly state our views on the devastating effects of the
international tropical timber trade environmentally, economically and
culturally, was a vital expression of my deepest beliefs.

I had previously done some voluntary work for social justice and
environmental organisations in Australia.  Whether focussing on the
environment, social inequality, nuclear weapons and peace, feminism or
indigenous land rights, we're really all fighting the same disease and aiming
for a more just and equitable world.

During two previous years spent travelling and working around the world, from
Japan to Europe, the Middle East and Asia, I had the opportunity to
experience the extremes of beauty and poverty, humour and violence, love and
injustice.  Despite having a clear vision of a better world, I felt basically
powerless to change anything.  I also wanted to continue formal studies and
gain knowledge on how the current world system was run and how it had evolved
historically.

The early months of this year were spent sitting out the Gulf War in an
ashram, learning invaluable spiritual practices and pondering over why
humanity had to repeat the same mistakes again.  Perhaps it was just the
shock I needed to translate my beliefs more fully into action.  There is an
immense release of energy, a power able to transform in such events.

At Limbang, I was lucky to stumble upon semi-settled and nomadic Penan
camping in a pavilion by the river.  They had been called to trial for the
blockades set up in 1989.  In the evening by candle light we heard their
stories - of having to walk for days to find food, at hearing bulldozers
coming closer, and of mistreatment by police and loggers.  One man said he
didn't care what colour the Chief Minister of Sarawak was, as long as he had
a good heart.

The next morning I attended day two of the trial.  As the Penan and Kelabit
men filed proudly into the stifling, silent court-room, adorned with rattan
and the mood of the jungle, I wondered how we as a culture had wandered so
far from the essential truths encompassed in their way of life - of love and
respect for one another.

At 10am a man entered the court and passed me a note saying "please come
outside Miss, we have some questions to ask you."  I refused to get into the
car they had waiting and walked escorted to the police station for
questioning by the "Special Branch", three men and I in a closed room.  They
told me that it was OK to visit the caves and beaches in Sarawak but not to
show such an interest in internal affairs - why was I there?  Which
organisation did I work for?  Where had I been in Sarawak?  Which local
people had I "instigated"?  The government and press constantly dismiss the
voice of the Penan people and their requests for recognition, through claims
that they are merely being "instigated" by outsiders (Bruno Manser is a
particularly favoured scapegoat in this respect!).  This is the main reason
that the focus of our action was on the tropical timber trade in which our
countries are intimately involved.  Hundreds of Penan and Kelabit people
blockaded in two different locations only days before but for us to join them
would have diminished their cause in the eyes of the Malaysian government. 
The irony is however that rather than acting as instigators, we have really
been inspired by them.

Somehow, I managed to convince the "Special Branch" that I was just a naive
and harmless tourist, it's not an experience I would like to repeat.  I left
Limbang on the next plane out after flushing all incriminating evidence down
the toilet in the hotel.  In no way could I jeopardise the international
action planned for three days time.  The Penan had asked us to do all we
could to save the forest.  After over four years of blockading, arrests,
re-arrests, hunger and harassment, some of them were beginning to lose hope.
....[The next line was unintelligible. eds]

It's an amazing experience in life, when you just know that something is
right, all the signs are crying out to be followed and providence moves in
your favour.  I found out about the planned International Action in Sarawak
whilst visiting the Rainforest Information Centre in Lismore.  And from there
everything fell into place, even a cheap air ticket suddenly became
available.  There were mixed reactions to the idea among the various
environmental groups but I just knew I had to be there.  The nature of the
action meant most of the planning would be done once the group met in
Sarawak.  A certain amount of trust and faith was required by all of us who
ended up participating.  I had two rushed weeks in Perth to prepare and spend
time with family and friends, and sold most of my clothes to raise money for
the Penan food fund.

As we flew over Borneo, the extent of the deforestation could be seen.  In
Kalimantan, rivers wound their way through a landscape where the trees
huddled together in valleys too difficult to log.  Upon entering Sarawak, I
had a number of personal experiences which confirmed the urgency of the
situation created by a rate of logging which, at eighteen million cubic
metres per year, is the fastest in the world.

After a day of travelling by various express boats and long boats upriver, we
reached an area in the Baram district where there were villages of
semi-settled Penan.  Many of the Penan, who are the last remaining
hunter-gatherer peoples, have been forced to settle over the last ten years
due to food shortages created by continued logging and government pressure. 
The media in Sarawak portrays the Penan as being a backward and uncivilised
people, grateful that the government sends in the military to build
longhouses and give them clothes.  Their blockades at logging roads and
constant struggle to protect the forest are ignored by the strictly
controlled press.

I found the Penan people to be among the most loving and generous I have ever
met, despite the fact that they are being gradually destroyed by poverty and
disease.  We drove overland through a dense network of logging roads and
erosion to a second village which seemed a little better off.  One family and
I went on a day trip up a river to collect rattan, through one of the last
remaining patches of jungle.  They were transformed when walking through the
trees - sensitive to all beings that are part of their forest home.  Due to
the continued destruction however the forest can no longer provide.  They
fished during the day and the men spent the night out hunting, but still no
food was found.  Rice and sago is the staple diet as although they are
"semi-settled" they rely almost solely on the forest for subsistence.

The chosen site of the action, the mouth of the Kuala Baram could be seen
clearly from the air as the plane flew towards Miri.  I watched as loaded
barges glided down stream towards Japanese ships eagerly waiting offshore.  I
counted four barges within only two bends of the river.  The surrounding land
was deceptively green and it didn't take more than a second look to see that
there was no canopy, no life or diversity in this "regrowth".

The day of the action arrived.  Our group of many persons willing to be
arrested had been pruned down from twenty.  Others were providing media and
communication support.  Although most of us had never met before, we were a
strong committed group, comprising five different nationalities.

As Jake and I walked as inconspicuously as possible through the timber yard
my stomach was tight with anticipation.  At 8.30am under clear skies we
ascended and occupied four cranes, two of which were on loaded barges.  Dayak
workers shouted out "we support you" and we could see the press hovering
around in boats below anxious to obtain footage and have it on its way to
Singapore before the police arrived.  We were exhilarated, after weeks of
planning everything had gone better than expected.  We had stopped the export
of logs from the yard for eight and a half hours, delayed the ships waiting
offshore, and hopefully conveyed our message world-wide.

One of the most valuable aspect of the action was the chance it provided to
speak with workers, journalists, police and onlookers about why we were there
- why, after years of pressure through the conventional channels had such an
action been called for in a plea to be heard both within Sarawak and
internationally.  It was an excellent opportunity to communicate directly
with various people and to hear their views. My impression is that the
majority of people want the logging of primary rainforest to stop but they
are frightened and unable to express this publicly.  The role of the Western
nations, the buyers, should be one of enabling countries worse off to
conserve the environment through compensation, debt relief and a new economic
order.

After all the forest is vital to the continuation of all life on this planet.
Our task is to co-operate and care for one another beyond the political
boundaries currently carving up the globe.  The means to do this will
crystallise when we are unified in our aims.

And as I sit here, in prison, I smile and see the vision gradually unfolding
before us to become a reality.
Nancy Rolfe, 21/7/1991