Mad Computer Skillz and Poison-Tipped Darts: At Home with a Modern Headhunter in Borneo

Osen Tuo, a Penan tribe member with a certificate in digital marketing, talks about the poison darts he uses to hunt along the Sugai Tutoh River in Borneo.

REGRETTABLY, THE PARK OFFICE informed me, the trained guide for my Sungai Tutoh River tour had fallen ill. Only a local, non-English-speaking boatman was available for the afternoon. 

That was okay by me. I was in Borneo’s Gunung Mulu National Park, famous for jagged limestone peaks and an intricate system of river-carved caves. It was a two-hour flight via turboprop from Kuching, the capital of this province, Sarawak, Malaysia. At the borders of this park were the forests of Brunei. Nature was the only game in town. 

Soon I was motoring down the river in a longboat with two other travelers – Annie from Western Malaysia and a British gentleman named Brennan. The boatman, Osen, ran an outboard motor in the rear and his wife, whose name I regrettably did not learn, navigated from the front.

It was a fortuitous match. I had tried, but failed, to find a homestay with the River Dayek people – a term that applies to a number of tribal groups in Sarawak who live in communal longhouses, fishing, hunting, and foraging along the river. 

A few generations ago, they were headhunters. Now, many in this area work for the national park.

“He showed us what looked like extremely sharp kebab skewers.”

We disembarked at a modern longhouse: a two-story, bright green, city block-long structure that houses about 60 families, all connected by a ground-level porch. A poster with photographs of the community leaders, all members of Osen’s Penan tribe, greeted us at the entrance.

“Who’s the guy at the top?” I asked.

It was Osen’s brother, the eldest of his generation. Leadership is passed to the chief’s first-born regardless of gender, Osen said. As the second born, there was no space for Osen on the poster.

Osen’s living room, while otherwise simple, was lined with framed certificates of achievement. He and his wife are the proud parents of five grown children, a couple of them college graduates. “Your children are very accomplished!” I exuded, with Annie interpreting in Malaysian. 

“He says all of these certificates are his,” said Annie.

Wow, what?

Perusing the walls, I could see that Osen had taken many courses offered by rural development programs; Malaysia is encouraging its indigenous folks to offer homestays to eco-tourists. Osen had certificates in subjects like composting with worms and digital marketing. Along with the certificates were photographs of some homestay groups -– apparently all Malaysian since neither Osen nor his wife speak English.

It was energizing to meet this bright soul in the Bornean outback – someone with a keen appetite to find opportunity at the intersection of the very, very old and the very, very new.

“it’s inspiring to watch the human story play out in such different ways among people from wildly diverse backgrounds. ”

When queried about the antlers mounted amongst the certificates, Osen pulled down a bamboo tube hanging from a nail. It was filled with what looked like extremely sharp kebab skewers. 

“This is how he hunts, with poison-tipped darts” blown through a blow pipe, Annie told us. The day before, on a hike, we had seen a tree with notches in the bark that the guide told us were extraction points for this type of poison, used long ago by local headhunters.  

Osen is still using this poison today. The kebab-type darts kill small game like fish and birds, while a second set that he showed us, with vicious, triangular metal tips, is used for deer and carabao. The ends of both were coated in a dark grey substance, the tree sap, which kills prey with deadly certainty while leaving the meat edible. “It works the same way with people,” Osen said.

Gulp!

Saying good-bye to the longhouse, our tour moved back to the water, where Osen led us through another few hours of boating, wading, and swimming in a clear, cool stream. I found a heart-shaped rock for my son, who is in college back home – we often give each other such stones when we’re adventuring together. 

As our group waded upstream, Osen occasionally ventured onto the lush bank and returned with a medicinal plant to show us. One was to relieve back pain, one was for nausea, another to help with nursing. The back pain one, a vine, only works if you boil an odd number of leaves into tea, Osen explained. An even number won’t have any effect.

At dinner time, we pulled up to the dock at park HQ and we three travelers tipped Osen and his wife generously for giving us a window into their lives. I made it to the park cafe just as the clouds burst open, throwing down buckets of rain; our guides surely were getting drenched on their way home. 

Over a bowl of laksa, I reflected on the human drive to learn, grow, and find opportunities in this changing world. There’s nothing unusual about that, yet it is so inspiring to watch this human story play out in such different ways among people from wildly diverse backgrounds. 

Certainly it reassures me that, as a species, we have the capacity to do better – to live more in harmony with our planet and with each other, to move forward together instead of at each others’ expense. It all comes down to the values we lead with and the choices we make. 

Osen earned this certificate in digital marketing for homestay operators, a program offered by the Malaysian government to support rural development.