Borneo’s Killing Fields

Being normally an extremely heavy sleeper, I was surprised to have slept lightly through the night. I wandered out and found few choices for breakfast. With a long and rough day anticipated, I passed on the satay and opted for a selection of cakes.

After breakfast, I investigated options for getting to Mandor where some 20,000 people were massacred by the Japanese during WWII. From the different bus routings indicated in the Lonely Planet and a good map, I gathered that I should be able to take any bus bound for Nanga Pinoh, Sintang or Ngabang.

I found the bus station and managed to buy a seat to Mandor on the bus bound for Nanga Pinoh. I had enough time to go back to my room to gather my stuff and a 15 minute lie down.

I was wet from the heat and humidity before we boarded, so I was pleased to be in a seat by the door where I could dry off (and stretch my legs out). Seating was extremely tight. The ride to Mandor took 3h30 including a lunch stop.

Text continues after this gallery.

I arrived into Mandor and walked to the site of Borneo’s killing field.  The gateway took me to large memorial which was locked. There was also a small glassed shed with pictures of those who were killed. A path led to the 10 mass graves which have been roofed over.

Here lay the remains those killed by the Japanese for plotting against them (or suspected of).  This is also one of those times when people from different racial backgrounds put aside their differences against a greater external enemy; a lot of the portraits of the dead were Chinese (the usual target of the Japanese during their reign of terror in SE Asia).

I walked back to the main road and in no time I was back on a bus, this time bound for Pontianak. The whole thing by local buses from Singakawang to Mandor then Pontianak was very easy, except for the cramped hot conditions.

Edit:  I realised much later that I had missed more graves.  The heat and fear of impending rain made me lose interest and leave without exploring much further.  Fortunately  I was able to return for another visit in 2016; you can read and see the differences here.

The bus ride took 3 hours including window repair and a petrol stop at a very crowded station where we had to queue. During the wait, an old couple on the bus unloaded their bike from the roof and rode off as we were close enough to the city. As a nice surprise, the bus terminated in the centre of town rather than Batu Layang on the opposite bank outside of town (which saved me a taxi ride at a rip-off price).  I walked into the swanky Santika Hotel dripping in sweat and couldn’t wait to hop into the shower.

For those of you who think that my travels are glamorous and hedonistic, today’s definitely wasn’t it. Travel isn’t all about beauty and pleasure; it’s also about seeing hard reality … including the ones that make me appreciate what I have in my life.