Bangkita Tamu in Limbang

It was 9 a.m. in the morning. The sun was high above the horizon and the whole Tamu was awash in its bright light. Ng, Robin and I were weaving our way through thick crowds of people.   On both sides of us, vegetables, fruits, fish and whatnot were heaped like mountains on tarpaulin sheets.  Every vendor persuaded us to buy from them in their cordial Brunei-accented Malay.  We were busy making comparisons of prices in our minds as we feasted our eyes on the kaleidoscopic display of local produce.  

                A basketful of plants with red, knobby roots caught Ng’s eye.  He squatted down on his hams and asked the middle-aged male vendor what they were.

                “They are red turmeric,” said the vendor.

                “Red turmeric,” Ng gasped.  “Can they be eaten?”

                “Of course,” said the vendor. “They can also be made into a lotion.”

                He gestured towards a small cluster of bottles and said, “I made the lotion a few days ago. It is good in relieving rheumatic pain.”

                Ng picked up one bottle and shook it.  The liquid foamed and imparted an oily sheen.  He uncapped the bottle and sniffed at its neck.  “The smell is strong and pungent,” Ng told me in Chinese, “I am sure alcohol was used in processing the lotion, together with some oil.”  

                “Want to try it?” asked the vendor, in a voice full of expectation. “It’s only eight ringgit.”

                Ng shook his head and walked to the next stall with Robin.  The vendor smiled good-naturedly and rearranged the bottles.  

                Two men stopped by the stall and looked at the bottles intently.  The vendor greeted them politely and they began the ritual of price negotiation in Bisayah, the language of the largest ethnic group in Limbang.  A deal seemed to be struck and the vendor put a few bottles in two plastic bags.  The two customers grabbed the bags of bottles and disappeared into the milling crowds.  I felt happy for the vendor.  His beaming face revealed his gratefulness to the two customers.  In this era of modernization, there are still some people who believe in the healing effects of quack medicine.  I respected the vendor because he is one of the few people in our country who are trying to keep the dying art of making quack medicine alive.  We need more people like him to keep the tradition from falling into abeyance.

                Today, 13 July 2012, was our last day in Limbang.  Ng, Robin and I had come here from Miri for the state level scrabble competition in SMK Kubong two days ago.   Luck eluded our team and we crashed out in the preliminary rounds.  However, we did not want to leave Limbang empty-handed.   We were determined to visit the Bangkita Tamu along Sungai Bangkita Street and bought as many goodies as possible before returning to Miri.   The Bangkita Tamu is one of the major tourist attractions in Limbang.  It is an open air market where you can see a motley assortment of vegetables, fruits, fish and meats.  Every Friday and Saturday, from approximately 5a.m. to 6p.m, it takes place in the car park between the Land Transport Department and the National Accountancy Department.  The stalls also spread westward to the front of a shop lot that houses the Avon Cosmetic Boutique and the Kentucky Fast Food Restaurant. Most locals do their weekly marketing here.  Many Bruneians also like coming to the Tamu for the same purpose.  

 Considering their dollar has a higher exchange rate in Limbang, they can make more purchases in the Tamu. 

                I hastened my steps and caught up with my two friends, who, by this time, had carried a few plastic bags of vegetables in their hands.  They were at a stall which sold ‘Ikan Tahai’.  “Ikan Tahai’ or small smoked fish are a unique product only found in Limbang, Lawas and Brunei.  There are two types of Ikan Tahai, the traditional, plain smoked ones and the ones coated with chilies.  The vendor, a young Malay in his early twenties, gave us a few of both types to try.   Both were crispy and savoury, but I had a special liking for the former because its flavor was more intense.  Although the latter was coated with chili powder, it was more on the sweet side.

                “How much is one kilo?” asked Robin.

                “It’s ten Ringgit,” replied the young vendor.

                “Give me one kilo of plain Ikan Tahai,” said Robin, “and one kilo of the ones with chilies.”

                “I also want the same amount of Ikan Tahai,” said Ng.

                “I want the plain ones,” I said.

                “Thank you,” said the vendor.  He took a piece of brown paper and folded it into a cone.  Next, he cut off the V shape bottom of the cone with a pair of scissors.  Then, he put a large plastic bag into a container, grabbed a few handfuls of Ikan Tahai from a large pot and filled a plastic bag with them through the funnel-like cone until it was full.  After that, he put the plastic bag of Tahai fish on a scale and the reading was exactly one kilogram.  His accuracy bowled us over and we gave him a clap.  He smiled and repeated the same procedure for the other bags of Tahai Fish.  My two friends paid him twenty Ringgit and I paid him ten.  Our plastic bags bulged with a large amount of smoked fish.  You won’t get that many fish for the same price in Brunei.  No wonder Bruneian tourists like buying lots of them back home.  A trip to Limbang will not be complete without the purchase of this product.  “The locals like to cook them with ‘Terung Assam, a kind of sour eggplants which are yellow in colour,” said the young vendor.  “The smokiness of the fish and the sourness of the eggplants really whet one’s appetite.” 

                Our next stop was a stall that sold bamboo shoots.  There were two young girls manning the stall.  In front of them were several plastic bags of bamboo shoots which had been cut into strips. Beside them was a small heap of cone-shaped bamboo shoots which had not been cut.

                “How much is one plastic bag of bamboo shoots?” I asked.

                “Four ringgit,” answered the older girl, showing her white toothy smile.

                “I want to ask my wife to cut the bamboo shoots herself,” said Robin. “Give me three bamboo shoots.”

                “I want two plastic bags of bamboo shoots,” I said.

                “Okay,” said the older girl.  She handed me two plastic bags of bamboo shoot strips and I paid her RM8.  The younger girl gave Robin three whole bamboo shoots and received RM12 from him.

                Ng looked at the heap of bamboo shoots with interest and asked the younger girl, “Can you show me how to cut a bamboo shoot?”

                “No problem,” said the girl.  She grabbed a whole bamboo shoot and made a thin cut across its shelled body.  Then, she slid the sharp blade of her knife into the slit.

                “Run the knife under the shell in a clock-wise direction,” said the girl. “The shell will come off easily.”

                “How skilful you are,” said Ng as he saw the girl throw the discarded shell into a bin.

                “Can you see the white pulp between the top and the bottom?” asked the girl.

                “Yes, it looks so tender,” said Ng.

                “Only the white pulp is edible,” the girl said as she cut off the top and the bottom parts.

                “Why?” Ng asked curiously.

                “They are too chewy,” explained the girl.

                “I see,” said Ng.   

The girl put the pulp upright on a chopping board and cut it into halves.  She cut them deftly into strips and rinsed them in a basin of water.  She put all of them in a plastic bag and said, “That’s all. Very simple.”

“Thanks for demonstrating how to cut it,” said Ng. “I’ll take the bamboo shoot strips.”

“Thanks,” said the girl. “It’s four ringgit.”

“Give me two whole bamboo shoots,” said Ng. “I want to cut them at home.”

“Alright,” chirped the girl.

Ng paid the girl money and left the stall with us, his face glowing with child-like thrill.

“You seem to very pleased, aren’t you?” Robin asked.

“Yes, I am,” said Ng. “The girls are very friendly.”

Ng was right with his verdict. In fact, all the vendors in the Tamu are like them.  They work hard on their farms every day and will only pick the best of their products for sale in the Tamu.  Their friendliness is another main factor that draws visitors to the Tamu.  They make the Tamu sizzle with goodwill.  You can’t experience that in ordinary supermarkets.  I am not pulling your leg. I can give you another situation which bears testament to what I say.  I bought two stalks of bitter mustard greens from an elderly lady and she gave me a useful tip for cooking the vegetable.

“Do not add salt to the mustard greens when you fry them,” said the lady.

“May I know why?” I asked.

“Salt will make them bitterer,” said the old lady, grinning. “Fry them with dried anchovies.”

“Thanks for your suggestion,” I said, “I have gained a new knowledge today.”

The Bangkita Tamu has a lot of surprises in store for you.  You can get to see many vegetables , fruits and other products which are not commonly found in ordinary markets.  Take the bitter mustard greens for example.  Unlike ordinary mustard greens, their stalks are slimmer and their leaves serrated, narrower and less crinkled. They have a natural peppery taste which is delicious.  I also came across ‘Ding’, a type of magenta shelled fruit which was said to be a good cure for high blood pressure.  Its pulp is similarly magenta in colour and it contains many tiny edible seeds.  Robin bought a packet of river fish which are slightly smaller than anchovies.  The lady vendor who sold the fish called them as ‘Sada Riyao’.  She told Robin to deep fry the fish for the best taste. The fish could be made into fermented fish too.  A mischievous vendor asked me to try eating sago worms but I dared not eat them.  They looked so cute and pitiful.

Robin had a heated negotiation with an elderly vendor over the price of a knife.  Their noise attracted a crowd of people to come and look at them. The elderly vendor insisted to sell it at RM75 and Robin wanted it at RM35.  The old man was firm in his decision and he won’t reduce the price.  After ten minutes of argument, the old man finally relented and said, “Okay, I will sell it to you at RM60.”

“What about RM25?” Robin reduced the price again.

“I won’t sell it at RM25.  My capital was even more than that.” The old man fumed.

“Why?” asked Robin, with a flippant smile. “My father in law is an aficionado of knives.  He will be glad if I give him the knife.  You will get thousands of blessings for selling it to me.”

“If you want to do something good,” said the old man, “buy the knife at RM60 in appreciation of my hard work.  It was not easy for a seventy-four man like me to solder this knife.”

The old man’s statement made Robin blush.  The school headmaster agreed to take the knife at RM60.  He exchanged hugs with the old man and the surrounding people cheered.  Ng and I could not help smiling.

We bought a lot more things in the Tamu but the combined purchases of Ng and mine hardly came up to one third of what Robin had bought.  We had to help him carry a box of crabs and two gunny sacks of red rice.  After two hours of marketing, we decided to call it a day and return to Miri.  The boot of Robin’s car was full of our purchases.

“Lo, are you happy with what you bought?” asked Robin.

“Yes, I am,” I said.  “I will ask my mum to cook what I bought.”

“It’s an eye-opener,” Ng chimed in. “As a townie I have never seen so many things.”

Robin started the motor and we left the Tamu.  In four hours we would reach Miri through the territories of Brunei. 

I will come back to Limbang and visit the Bangkita Tamu again.  It beckons me with its simplicity, its myriad goods and its friendly vendors.