Weaving Dayak Ngaju language into peatlands restoration in Central Kalimantan

This is a brief glimpse into my journey of gathering stories and insights from the community of Pilang Village in Pulang Pisau Regency, Central Kalimantan, Indonesia. A gentle drizzle wove through our trip to the village located about one and a half hours from Palangka Raya, the capital city of Central Kalimantan. We arrived in the house of an elderly man called Bue (Grandfather in the Dayak Ngaju language) who used to be the previous customary leader of the Dayak Ngaju community in Pilang village, now passed to his son. Bue, an 83-year-old man who was once an activist of the Mega Rice Project in the ‘90s, allowed us to use his house as the meeting place with the participants.

The house was in a green wooded area. Despite its simplicity, it exudes a sense of comfort and belonging. Inside the house, participants gathered and chatted while sipping hot coffee amidst the cloudy weather that covered the sky. Bue and all the participants greeted us warmly. Shortly afterward, the research journey began. It didn't take long until we immersed ourselves in a conversation about tropical peatlands. The participants, who were mostly farmers, very fluently shared the local ecological words in the Dayak Ngaju language that I had never heard before. To me, it sounded archaic, yet it brought me back to my essence.

Like me, the younger members were also fascinated by the words mentioned by the elder members who eloquently unveiled the rich and precious wisdom of the tropical peatlands. Most words are no longer used by today’s generation. Throughout this event, I saw the elder generation passing down their knowledge to the younger generation. Our journey of revealing the forgotten words of tropical peatlands continued to unfold, with the sound of falling rain serenading the conversation. As a pluviophile who revels in rain, I cherished the ambiance as much as the earthy scent of petrichor that lingered in the air. Raindrops were still soaking the earth as time went by, and before we knew it, we had finished our activity.

Shortly before leaving, I engaged in a personal conversation with Bue. He was a warm-hearted gentleman. The look on his face expressed a deep sense of hope that the younger generation could continue what he had fought for, preserving the environment of Kalimantan and the culture of the Dayak Ngaju, which have been gradually eroded by the unstoppable flow of modernisation and capitalism. Frankly speaking, it has consistently posed a challenge for me to fully understand the complexity of these issues. Still, I continue to play my part.
When I told Bue that I would travel far from home to pursue my study, hoping to make a real contribution to tropical peatlands restoration as well as language revitalisation, he immediately touched my face and head and then gave me his blessing. Shortly afterward he said to me, “Always carry the honour and dignity of the Dayak people with you wherever your journey takes you. May your endeavors be fruitful.” Those hopeful eyes looked at me with such a deep gaze, that I couldn't help but feel tears falling from my eyes. Soon, we said goodbye and drove back to Palangka Raya as the drizzling rain refused to fade away.