Riches from the labour of tin coolies
A visit to a museum in Perak opens eyes to the difficulties and sacrifices made by the workers manning the mines during the colonial era
LONG Jaafar had been sitting at the verandah of his house ever since finishing his dinner three hours ago. The chieftain is worried; Si Larut, his pet elephant had broken free of its restraining chain three days ago; it was last seen roaming the forested area around Klian Pauh.
Long Jaafar has fond memories of this 2-year-old pachyderm as he often rode astride it when visiting clansmen living between Bukit Gantang and Lubok Merbau. He fears Si Larut’s life may come to an untimely end if not found soon. A domesticated young bull would surely starve to death in the wild, if predators don’t get to it first.
As he prepares to head indoors, a series of shouts is heard in the distance. Squinting his eyes, Long Jaafar catches sight of a train of (lit torches) appearing from the nearby forest fringe. His heart skips a beat. The men seem to be leading what appears to be a hulking mass behind them.
Judging from its uneven gait, Long Jaafar is confident it’s Si Larut. Unable to contain his excitement, the chieftain orders his guards to open the gates and rushes out to greet the unexpected party. And his hunch is proven correct. Inspecting his pet in the pale light, he’s relieved to see it unscathed. But then he notices something else — Si Larut’s feet are caked in a rather odd looking mud which is darker in hue. Pulverising some with his bare hands, Long Dulang washers panning for tin ore. Tin miners had to acquire mining permits before they could commence work.
A replica of a palong can be seen among the outdoor exhibits; The coolies led simple lives, subsisting on food prepared by the mine operators. Jaafar is surprised to find bits of metallic ore encrusted in the dried mud. The wise chieftain immediately recognises the metal as the fabled tin ore. The rest, as they say, is history.
OFF TO THE MUSEUM
It’s with this amazing tale in mind that I find myself standing in front of the Kinta Tin Mining Museum one early Sunday morning. Happy to see the doors open at 8.30 am, I hastily make a beeline for the entrance, only to be stopped in my tracks by a burly security guard.
A short conversation ensues and I soon learn that the museum only starts accepting visitors at 9am. “Why don’t you have breakfast at the food court next door first and come back in 30 minutes? The mee Jawa and curry mee there are very good,” suggests the guard, gesturing towards a blue roof visible from the top of a large bamboo grove swaying gently in the morning breeze.
Both the recommended stalls are well patronised. Knowing very well that it’d be near impossible for me to sample both in one sitting, I settle for the mee jawa; fortunately