Recovering lost voices: working with archival photographs.

Introduction

While museums and historical archives typically include collections of photographs among their documentary and material resources, many collections are divorced from the context of their origins, separated from the persons who produced and used them (Nordstrom 1991:207). In some cases, the photographer has provided archival information which assists with the reading of the image. But in images of the colonial past in particular, we seldom hear the voices of the subjects captured within the image, of those who were witnesses to the making of the image, of those who know the background story behind the image, or the biographical details of the human subjects involved.

Decontextualization is not merely a physical construct: it also has cultural, social, political and cognitive dimensions. Thus the methodology chosen for this project was motivated by a concern to reunite, as far as is possible, image and context in the interest of adding to and broadening the discussion. There are sound epistemological reasons for doing so. The reflexive turn in the social sciences has raised our awareness that photographs--as historical and cultural documents--are never neutral. Rather, they are "representations of reality, not a direct encoding of it" (Banks 1995:2).

In an unpublished paper, Worth (1977:1) talks about language in terms of a "semiotic code ... We know those semiotic codes so well that we 'know' immediately when we do not speak another's language, and we also know that there are many languages ... different from our own." He goes on to lament the fact that this recognition "does not seem to extend to our understanding of visual signs. Somehow as soon as we leave the verbal mode we begin to talk about universal languages" (1977:1).

Photographs, too, can be considered to speak a language. As material artifacts they bear witness to, and make a statement about, a world and a past. However; as Worth makes clear, they do not speak a universal language; social conventions and cultural rules prescribe what can be photographed, what it is considered fashionable or important to photograph, and where and how photographs should be displayed (Worth 1977). Neither is the language spoken by the photographic image a fixed or static phenomenon. Like all languages, it is a living process which is continually evolving. As material artifacts, photographs embody traces of the cultural changes and interactions taking place within the communities or cultures which gave them voice. Hence, contextualizing the moment in time and space is a first step in the decoding process.

A more comprehensive reading requires that we also ask questions which probe the contextual circumstances surrounding the image. Who produced the photograph? For whom? Why was it taken? Why was it kept? How does it reflect ideas that were circulating at the time? What does it mean to the viewer? (Worth 1977; Ruby 1981; Banks 1991).

To find the answers to such questions involves a turning back towards the source of the image. Time moves inexorably on and people pass away; often it is no longer possible to access details from the subjects of the photographs themselves or from the photographer. However, it is possible to return to place--the place where the photographs were taken; to see and hear how they are interpreted by, and what they mean to, people living there today.

Beginnings

In 2000 George Appell, President of the Borneo Research Council, sent an email to members describing a recent visit to a traveling exhibition of archival photographs of aboriginal peoples from Southern Alberta. The exhibition, entitled "Lost Identities: a Journey of Rediscovery.," was introduced as follows

Photographs can speak. They can whisper or shout. They can lie. Many photographs, though, are silent. When individuals, events or other details are not known, photographs do not have voices. The subjects of the photographs in the Lost Identities exhibit were unidentified, and voiceless. This exhibit travelled to the Aboriginal communities where the photographs were taken and asked the people to find the voices and the stories buried in the pictures. It was, and remains, a journey of rediscovery. (Lost Identities Exhibition 1999) (1)

Perhaps it was time, George suggested, to think about similar projects in Borneo.

At the time, I was in Mukah, Sarawak, carrying out doctoral-related fieldwork with the Melanau. During the course of my research, people in the Melanau kampongs often showed me old photographs--either of earlier generations of their family or chronicling historical events in the local district. Every photograph shown came with a story about the subject of the photograph or the context of its origins. Sometimes a photograph was a catalyst for other stories, calling forth memories of times past or family members already deceased. In a few cases, at the request of the owner, I scanned, then digitally restored copies of photographs that were in a deteriorating condition. In the circumstances, I could readily appreciate the merits of George's suggestion.

Due to the demands of completing a Ph.D., any ideas of undertaking a major salvage project of old Melanau photographs was put on hold, but the contents of

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George's email continued to resonate. A window of opportunity finally opened when I returned to Sarawak in 2006 and heard about a collection of old Melanau-related photo-negatives in the archives of the Sarawak Museum.

The Archive

The museum archive of Melanau photographs consisted of nine negative- holder folders with each photo negative housed in an opaque paper sleeve. The folders were titled with a subject heading and collectively contained well over 600 negatives in total. (2) Each negative was inscribed with a catalogue number (relating to the title of the folder) and a date (signifying when the photograph was taken). No other information was included with the archive.

The dates on the negatives range over a period of 26 years, from 1950-- 1976, and clearly involve the work of several different photographers and cameras. The man in the forefront of the following photograph, dated 18.3.62, has been identified as Junaidi bin Bolhassan, Sarawak Museum photographer from the 1950s into the mid-1970s, and it is likely that he was the photographer of the majority of the photographs in the archive.

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Closer examination of the dates reveals that more than two-thirds of the photographs were taken during one fieldtrip carried out between 14th and 21st Marcia 1962, which coincided with the removal of a kelideng (burial pole) that was in danger of collapsing into the Oya River. Information from local Melanau who witnessed this removal indicates that staff members from the Sarawak Museum were in attendance and there are a large number of negatives relating to the operation.

It is apparent that on this same fieldtrip an effort was made to systematically photograph the Melanau kampongs as a documentary record of Melanau life and culture of the period? The sequence and subject matter of the photographs show a journey that began on the Oya River (Medong, Kg Tanam, Kg Sg Ud, Dalat, Oya) and then proceeded along the coast (Kg Penat) to the Mukah River and Sungei Tellian (Mukah town and Kg Tellian). See map below.

The second largest group of negatives relates to a two-day visit to Mukah, 23-24 February 1964, to take photographs of Kaul--the annual Melanau ritual of propitiation and thanksgiving. In addition, there are several smaller groups of photographs which appear to relate to specific projects carried out by individuals; for example, a group of negatives of Semah, a Melanau a-bayoh (shaman) from Kg Tellian Ulu and another small group showing traditional Melanau games. The latter, comprising four negatives, were published in a paper by George Jamuh entitled "Some Melanau Pastimes" in the Sarawak Museum Journal November 1951, and the photographs are accredited to him in the journal?

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A few other photographs in the archive have also been previously published (e.g. in Morris 1982 & 1991), though it is unclear whether these photographs were taken by Morris himself or someone else. Morris makes no reference about this and inquiries made to Beatrice Clayre, (who edited Morris's second book and had access to his notes and manuscripts), and to Morris's family have been unable to provide an answer.

At least one of the photographs is on display in the Sarawak museum, (along with notes, a diagram and a skull), as an illustration of the traditional Melanau forehead flattening procedure.

Following initial perusal, a selection of 330 negatives was made (about half the original archive), and developed to 5" x 3 1/2" prints by a local photo studio in Kuching, I then scanned the prints on high resolution and saved them to DVD according to their original categorization. This became my working archive, the basis for further print copies and enlargements, and later photo restoration (using Photoshop), as well as the basis for photo elicitation with people living in the Melanau settlements today.

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In the course of working on this project I was sent a further 28 photographs from the personal collection of Robert Pringle to add to my working archive. (5) These relate to a visit he and his wife made to the Melanau settlements of Dalat (on the Oya river) and Kg Tellian (on the Mukah river) in 1966.

Photo Elicitation: a collaborative process

An initial 3 day visit to Mukah was made in late 2006 with the original 5" x 3 1/2" prints in small photo albums, This trip was mainly to discuss the project with local government officials. However it was quickly apparent that the size and sheer number of the photographs as well as the original categorization by subject detracted from the identification and elicitation process.

Three strategies were devised to overcome these problems on subsequent fieldtrips.

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1) I set about identifying the location of each photograph. I was able to identify" the location of some photographs myself from places I recognized. Local informants also provided information about location. However, by studying the dates and number sequence of the photographs it was possible to trace the journey of the photographer through the different villages and locales and this was especially useful when I got conflicting information about the photo subject from informants.

2) I enlarged and printed most of the photographs (using Photoshop) to A4 size and had them laminated. Informants were then able to hold and focus on one image at a time and the consequences for effective viewing and elicitation were significant.

3) On subsequent fieldtrips I used selected photographs according to location with informants and found 20-25 photographs were an optimum number for doing elicitation at one time. This also meant that time wasn't wasted or attention detracted by asking someone from, for example, Kg Tellian, to look through the entire collection. These strategies were ongoing as fieldwork progressed and information was continually updated and refined.

A major breakthrough came at the start of the second field trip when someone identified a photograph of a man in Kg Tellian Ulu as Nanas bin Dra. I record the experience which followed in detail not only because it was the defining moment when I realized that this project had a dimension which went far beyond the salvage of information about the photographs, but because in many ways it was typical of the reactions and experiences which characterized the whole fieldwork process.

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Nanas was at home with his grandchildren and I passed him the following photograph and explained who I was and what I was doing. He sat down, holding the photograph in both hands and for several minutes neither moved nor spoke, unable to take his eyes off the image. Time froze and everyone in the room with it. After some time, I broke the silence and asked Nanas the name of the two children in the photograph with him but he was still overwhelmed and unable to answer.

One of the grandchildren present in the room told me her father (Nanas' son) would be home any moment, and shortly after, he arrived and I introduced myself.

Dedo bin Nanas, a headmaster at a school down the coast, offered me a cup of tea and we sat at the table with the remaining photographs. I told him about the project as he looked through them. He looked at one photograph--a Tellian river scene--for some time, before telling me that the night before he had "dreamed" that very scene. (6) If I needed some help with identifying and finding the people and subjects in the photographs, he was willing to assist me. (7)

I arranged to meet Dedo in a coffee shop in Mukah town the following morning and left the photograph of Nanas with them before leaving. (8) At the coffee shop next day, Dedo told me how the previous evening, his father had taken the photograph of himself "all around the kampong" to show people. While we were looking at the photographs with a group of men who had gathered round, Nanas arrived and joined us, glowing as he told the story of "his photograph."

Informal occasions such as this produced new information as well as new leads to follow up later. But above all they generated conversations and renewed interest among those present--about the past and people of the past. Frequently I was referred on to someone else regarding a photograph in the collection, often within the same village, but sometimes to someone in another village, and on several occasions to persons living in Kuching, the state capital.

As well as acting as a trigger for social recall, the photographs also provided "communication bridges between strangers" that reduced the reticence and self-consciousness often produced by cultural and linguistic boundaries (cf. Collier & Collier 1986:99). A visit to an individual with connections to a specific photograph would sometimes turn into a mini-gathering as near neighbors, (who were also likely to be near relatives), arrived to see what was going on and to contribute to the discussion. Time and again ! was reminded that "visual representations are not only produced but are consumed in a social context" (Banks 1995:3).

The man in the next photograph was identified by an informant as Datuk Pengiran Lai (deceased), of Oya, and I arranged to visit a member of his family in Oya with this photograph and a collection of others. On arrival at the house of Awang Bujang and Dayang Hapsah bt Awg Lai (the elderly son-in-law and only surviving daughter of Pengiran Lai), I found a gathering had been organized and food prepared. There were people waiting in the living room and more arriving, all relatives and extended family of the late Pengiran Lai, come to see the photographs I'd brought.

Everyone wanted to "look, see, and comment" about the photographs spread out on the small table (cf, Collier & Collier 1986: 106). As so often happened, the ensuing elicitation ranged well beyond "data ... contained in the photographs themselves" (Collier & Collier 1986:99), and as always, the photographs of people--especially family members, took first place in the viewing process. The family genealogy of Pengiran Lai and his descendants was explained; family keepsakes--a medal and old photographs--were brought out to show me. Only then did we get on to looking at the rest of the photographs. When I struggled to understand an explanation--in Melanau, about a photograph of a fishing net, someone took my pen and notebook and drew me a diagram. They became my teachers.

The two photographs on the following page, taken on this same occasion, are examples of "directed photographs" (Banks 1995:5); they were initiated and taken at the request of my collaborators. I was "directed" to take photographs almost identical to the first--a "then and now" image, by many of the people to whom I returned photographs, when the archival image was either of themselves or a family member. The second photograph--of researcher and informant(s), was also frequently requested by those whom I interviewed about the photographs generally.

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These images are significant for two reasons. First, they can be interpreted as statements by those present about the strength and value of family and intergenerational connections; i.e. "a legitimization and concretization of social facts" (Banks 1995:5). Second, by insisting that I was in the photograph, the collaborative nature of the occasion was underlined (Banks 1995).

The following photograph was taken by Robert Pringle during a trip he and his wife Barbara made to Mukah in 1966, when Hj Noh and his son Turki acted as their guides. In October 2007 I visited Hj Noh in Kg Bunut, Mukah, to meet him and return copies of the photographs Pringle took in 1966. The photographs generated a spontaneous flow of memories and information from Hj Noh--about his life, his family, his achievements as a local councilor, about places and personalities (cf. Collier & Collier 1986:106).

It happened to be Hari Raya, the annual Muslim celebration at the end of the fasting month, and many of Hj Noh's adult children, grandchildren and great grandchildren had come home for the occasion, including his son Turki who now lives in Kuching.

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And this is the photograph they "directed." Not only did they include the enlargements I'd taken them of Pringle's original photographs, and insist on including me; the production was also a recreation of the original event, including a treasured family object and Pringle himself(in the middle of the photograph in front of the model boat). (9) In preparation, Hj Nob went off to his room to change into more formal attire (as did one of the women present), further underlining the significance of the event and the production process.

The photographic archive as an historic and documentary record

Historical photographs have more usually been "read" as a source of information about aspects of material culture, or in series, as "a record across time and space" (Kavanagh 1994). Salvage, in these terms, implies a concern to preserve these images as material artifacts; i.e. "photos were collected as anthropological facts," and "then transformed into specimens for display" (Poignant 1991:5). The camera was considered an objective tool that recorded an accurate picture of" reality. So how accurate a picture of reality do the archival photos represent?

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Closer perusal of the photos reveals that as a documentary representation of Melanau life of the period, there are specific gaps in the photographic record. Fleeting visits (the longest, a week, and a relatively large area was covered in that time), meant certain aspects were missed, particularly seasonal activities. Fishing, for example, is mainly carried out from April to October, with different fishing activities occurring in different months and the majority of the photographs were collected outside that time frame. Sago processing activities, which were carried out all year round in the upriver Melanau villages, are well represented, but photos of sago gardens--which are located outside the villages, are missing. And apart from Kaul 1964, when a special trip was made from the museum for the occasion, there are no photographs of rituals--marriage, death or healing rituals, though there are photos of material artifacts used in some of these ritual practices.

The archival collection covers a relatively limited geographical area; i.e. kampongs on the Oya and Mukah rivers and the coastal territory in between. Access to settlements outside this area was more difficult at the time--involving journeys by boat.

Photos of domestic interiors are absent in the museum photos, except for close-up photos of treasured objects such as pottery and jewelry, which do not reveal contextual surroundings. While there are many photos of a domestic group in a doorway, the camera seldom goes beyond. Robert Pringle's collection, on the other hand, does include some photos of the interior of Hj Noh's house and family activity, as well as one of Pringle's wife Barbara sitting on the veranda of a village house in Kg Tellian and surrounded by local children. Such details reveal information about the relationship between the photographer and the photographed, and also illustrate the different purposes for which the photos were taken and how they were intended to be viewed.

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But however much the contextual implications of some of these images might prompt a 21st century inclination for deconstruction, it is important to remember that we are all constrained by historical and cultural processes--then and now, At least we have these fragments of the colonial past available as a prompt for reflection and remembering in the present. In the event, such details mattered not a bit to my Melanau collaborators in the field and the scope of the collection proved perfectly adequate for their, and my, purposes.

The brief selection of archival images that follow focus on what I see as some of the significant ethnographic contributions of the collection, particularly in connection with sociocultural change since the time the photos were taken. One proviso needs to be emphasized: without the benefits of local photo elicitation in the decoding process, the lull significance of many of these photos would likely go unrealized for an unenculturated viewer.

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Cultural differences between different villages, or between communities on the Mukah and Oya rivers--apparent in the archival photos--are much less visible to an outsider today. Historically, each Melanau village was an independent political unit with its own adet, or customary law, passed down from one generation to the next (Morris 1991:82). After the Brooke conquest of the area in 1861, this political autonomy ceased (Mortis 1991: 302), and as the need to maintain distinct territorial boundaries between villages faded, some of these perceived cultural differences began to break down, assisted by the process of religious conversion and the political drive for stability in the region. In recent years that process has accelerated as efforts are made to promote "Melanau culture" as a tourist product and to foster the notion of a collective Melanau identity within Sarawak,

Yet throughout the elicitation process, individuals used--and expressed--identifying details of cultural difference in the photo-decoding process. Some of these markers were obvious--for example, the differences in appearance between sago trampling platforms on the Oya and Mukah rivers, as shown on the next page. Others were less apparent, and some escaped me completely.

Several informants, though unable to identify an individual by name in a photo, were able to tell me: "That looks like a Dalat person" or "That looks like a person from Kg The." Further probing brought forth only the comment: "I can tell by the face." Inevitably, these deductions were proved correct, posing intriguing questions about the nature of group identity consciousness and recognition.

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A less obvious difference was in the style of boat used for everyday travel on the different river systems. Historically, boats used in villages on the Oya River had square ends, while those used on the Mukah River had pointed ends. Since boats with square ends are used almost universally on both rivers nowadays, a newcomer to the area would not be aware of this historical difference, but it was picked up immediately by my Melanau informants when they viewed the photographs.

As the elicitation process proceeded, I became increasingly aware of how much life revolved around the rivers at the time the photos were taken. The houses in the villages lined the riverbanks and faced onto the river in the photos; these days, houses are built near to and facing the roads, often some distance away from the river. The village mosques and schools were also located near the river's edge; today they have been relocated further inland, with road access. The photos of the rivers are populated with boats and people going about their daily activities--a family on their way to town, traders selling household goods such as flour, cooking oil, and other necessities, children on their way to and from school, men or women towing sago logs home from the sago gardens, taking a load of rasped sago home from the rasping cottage for trampling, or bringing home a boatload of palm leaves to make attap, as well as women trampling sago on the platforms that lined the rivers.

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The forces of nature have also imposed cultural change. Some of the landscapes documented have completely disappeared, washed away by the sea, the river and the tides.

As I proceeded with identifying names of persons in the photos, the ability of children to roam freely and safely within their immediate neighborhood in the kampong was revealed. A photo of a mother surrounded by children in the doorway of a house, or of a man, woman and children looking through an open window of a house--and which might be presumed to be a family group, was more likely to be composed of children from various households within the vicinity, neighborhood gangs of same-gender friends rather than siblings. (10) What emerges from the village scenes in all the photos is the image of an environment that was overwhelmingly social. Photos of individuals are rare, except for close-ups; there are always other villagers in the picture, if not interacting, then in the background.

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The enduring nature of close-knit village relationships and their ongoing relevance for social identity and integration was brought home to me early on in the fieldwork process. I began the photo elicitation process in two adjoining kampongs on the upper Tellian River; Kg Tellian Ulu and Kg Tellian Tengah. There were several reasons for this. I had lived in Kg Tellian Tengah for a few months when I first went to Mukah in 2000, so some people already knew me or had seen me around. Secondly, Dedo lived in one of these kampongs and was able to introduce me personally to many participants. And finally, my husband was born and spent his early years in Kg Tellian Ulu, and had relatives there, whom I already knew. I was less familiar with the intricacies of more distant family relationships. (11)

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But many of my older informants in Kg Tellian were not and frequently, before getting down to the business of the photos, these relationships were explored at some length and finally my relationship to them established and pronounced. This preliminary activity undoubtedly had benefits in terms of acceptance and access for me. But it was also apparent that there was a good deal of personal satisfaction derived from being able to recall and reaffirm the complex web of family and village connections, underlining the ideological and existential significance of relationship for individual as well as group identity. This was a theme that resonated throughout the photo elicitation process itself, Consistently, the photos that were of most interest to my Melanau collaborators were photos of people--they talked about "families and intersections between generations," they used them to trace people's lives (c.f. Lewis 1996:15). (12) In the process, an opportunity was created for the living representatives of the depicted cultures to salvage something valuable for themselves from these fragments of the past.

One photo will forever capture the essence of this encounter for me. It did not involve elicitation as such; it was more an encounter with self after a long period of exile, and the comment made was addressed to no one in particular. The directness and simplicity of the utterance--a thought expressed aloud, was eclipsed by the poignancy of its implications.

"I remember when the men came through the village and took my photo ... but I never saw the photo. All my life I've wanted to see this photo ..."

Such moments make this project also part of "the unfinished business of decolonization" (Wilmer 1993:5).

Postlude

"The voices of representatives of the depicted cultures in the interpretation and presentation of these pictures offer a ... fresh and important perspective. The most inclusionary reading of these images is the most useful one; it affirms that there are many histories inherent in these fragments of our ... past ..." (Nordstrom 1991:8-9).

Berger (1982:96) directs a hypothetical question towards researchers working with archival photographs: "(I)n what way can this constructed fragment, cut loose from its past, be summoned as a witness to that past?" In the course of completing this project I discovered there are many ways, and many voices buried in these images of the past. (13) These myriad voices resist a single reading of a photograph or a single authoritative view of the past.

Now in the process of preparing the photographs and research for publication, I have tried to reflect that reality by an emphasis on multi-vocality and a dispersal of authority in the text. While publication will bring an end to my own role, hopefully it will also be a vehicle for the interpretive and meaning-making potential of these photographs to continue.

References

Banks, Marcus

1995 Visual Research Methods. Social Research Update 11. Available: http://sru.soc.surrey.ac.uk/SRU11/SRU11.html (Accessed 9/11/09)

Barnes, G.T.

1966 A Melanau Curing Ceremony (Payun) at Mukah. Sarawak Museum Journal 14(28-29):87-90.

Berger, John and Jean Mohr

1982 Another Way of Telling. Cambridge: Granta.

Collier, John,Jr. and Malcolm Collier

1986 Visual Anthropology: Photography as a Research Method. University of New Mexico Press: Albuquerque.

Jamuh, George

1951 Some Melanau Pastimes. Sarawak Museum Journal 5(3):446-456.

Kavanagh, Thomas N.d. Reading Historic Photographs. Indiana University. Available: http://ezinfo.ucs.indiana.edu/~tkavana/phothana.html (accessed 11/08/06)

Kurui, Edmund and Tuton Kaboy

1998 Melanau Ethno-Arts and Handicraft. In: Sejarah, Budaya Dan Realiti Baru. Kaum Melanau. Aidan Wing, ed. Pp. 75-83. Kuching: Lembaga Amanah Kebajikan Kaum Melanau Sarawak.

Lewis, Dave and Chris Wright

1966 Tricky Positions: A Conversation between Dave Lewis and Chris Wright. Anthropology Today 12(2): 12-16.

Lost Identities: a Journey of Rediscovery.

1999 Available: http://www.head-smashed-in.com/identity.html (Accessed 9/11/09).

Morris, Stephen 1953 Report on a Melanau Sago Producing Community in Sarawak. London: Colonial Office.

1982 How an Old Sarawak Society was undermined. Sarawak Gazette March 1982:51-57.

1991 The Oya Melanau. Sarawak: Malaysian Historical Society.

1997 The Oya Melanau: Traditional Ritual and Belief. Beatrice Clayre, ed. Special issue, The Sarawak Museum Journal 53.

Nordstrom, Alison Devine

1991 Persistent Images: Photographic archives in ethnographic collections. Theme issue, "Photogenic Papers," Continuum: The Australian Journal of Media & Culture 6(2): 207-219.

Poignant, Roslyn

1991 The Photographic Witness? Theme issue, "Photogenic Papers," Continuum: The Australian Journal of Media and Culture 6(2): 178-206.

Ruby, Jay

1981 Seeing Through Pictures: The Anthropology of Photography. Camera Lucida 3: 19-32.

Wilmer, Franke

1993 The Indigenous Voice in World Politics. Sage: California.

Ann Appleton

Senior Research Fellow

Institute of East Asian Studies

Universiti Malaysia Sarawak

94300 Kota Samarahan, Sarawak, Malaysia

(1) "Lost Identities: a Journey of Rediscovery" is now on permanent display at Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump, (Alberta, Canada), which has been designated a UNESCO world heritage site. Accessible: http://www.head-smashed-in.com/home.html

(2) The folder names were: Melanau Informants; Melanau Women & Children: Melanau Men & Boats; Melanau Kampong & Houses; Melanau Country Views: Melanau Adat & Art; Melanau Fishing: Melanau Trade; Melanau Agriculture.

(3) Similar projects documenting the culture of ethnic groups in Sarawak were undertaken by staff of the museum during the same period; i.e. the early to mid 1960s.

(4) George Jamuh, an Iban worked as a medical dresser in Mukah and wrote numerous papers on aspects of Melanau culture which were published in both the Sarawak Museum Journal and the Sarawak Gazette. Later, he became assistant curator at the Sarawak Museum.

(5) Robert Pringle is the author of Rajahs and Rebels: The Iban of Sarawak Under Brooke Rule, 1841 1941. (1970) Macmillan: UK; Cornell University Press: USA.

(6) Commenting on life in the Melanau kampongs in the early 1950s, Morris observed: "The telling of dreams ... was so common and pervasive in Melanau society that is easy to underestimate their significance. People differed in the importance they gave them. Some said that very few dreams need to be seriously regarded: others looked on every one as a guide to action. But all agreed that some dreams are communications from spiritual beings and cannot be disregarded" (Morris 1997:36).

(7) This was the start of a very successful working relationship with Dedo and over time I got to know him and his family well. His assistance with introductions to informants, not only around Mukah but also in villages on the Oya River, his skills as an interpreter, as

well as his depth of local knowledge, have been invaluable and integral to the successful completion of the project.

(8) It was my practice to give a laminated A4 photo to any of the persons in the photos--or their descendants--that I was able to meet during the course of the project.

(9) Kg Bunut is a Melanau fishing village at the seaward end of the Mukah River (opposite Mukah town). The model boat (bahong) is of the type used by Mukah fishermen for panau fishing, a traditional Melanau fishing technique that was phased out in the 1970s.

(10) Morris remarked, of the Melanau kampongs on the Oya River in the early 1950s: "If young children say they are going to sleep with a friend, or at the house of a relative, no objection is raised ... If children miss meals most parents are unconcerned, knowing they will find food elsewhere" (1953:124).

(11) When classifying relatives, the Melanau make no distinction between a mother's or a father's descent line. Historically, the preferred marriage was with a second cousin: if this ideal was followed, "the descent lines from the common grand parents would have been joined again every fourth generation" (Morris 1991:136). The kinship categorization system described by Morris in the early 1950s still prevails: i.e. relatives up to second cousins are considered to be "close" relatives, third cousins are marginally "close," while fourth and fifth cousins fall into the category of "distant" relatives. The ambiguities and flexibilities inherent in the resulting labyrinth of relationships provide certain advantages. As Morris observed: "It is unusual for an individual to know his genealogy and its component lines of descent in sufficient depth to connect them all," but should the need arise when it would be useful to affirm relationship "the appropriate laian (line of descent) can be recalled or invented" (Morris 1953:69). By this means, a so-called "'distant relative" can be "promoted" to the category of "close relative": by the same means an "'inconvenient relative" can be discarded (ibid:70).

(12) Lewis was referring to the way that family photographs, displayed on the walls of a living room, are used by members of a household in their own identity-making process.

(13) Written and/or previously published material has also been a source of "voices" which have provided commentary on the subjects of the photos: in particular, the six monthly reports of the Sarawak Administrative Officers for the region over the years that the photos were taken.

Article Details

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Author:	Appleton, Ann
Publication:	Borneo Research Bulletin
Geographic Code:	9MALA
Date:	Jan 1, 2011
Words:	5843
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