A farmer planting padi seedlings in his field. — Photos by Lano Lan
THERE is a long-held belief in Sabah that within every grain of rice resides a spirit, known as Bambarayon, or the spirit of padi.
This belief is so deeply ingrained that dropping rice on the floor or leaving even a grain on the plate is considered a grave sign of disrespect. Often, elders would share stories about the “crying rice”, a metaphor for the wastage of this precious staple.
However, the two Kadazandusun Cultural Association deputy presidents, Datuk Seri Clarence Bongkos Malakun and Datuk Seri Dr Jeffrey Kitingan, learned these lessons the hard way.
Villagers gathering to help one another during padi planting as they have a schedule to meet.
“Just like any kampung-boy back then, we would rush to the padi field after school.
“We endured the heat and the mud, yet, those were among my fondest memories,” said Bongkos.
Padi planting, both Bongkos and Kitingan agreed, was hard work.
“We would begin with mamaladu (ploughing) the field, followed by mamalagus (to evenly plough the land), both processes using traditional equipment drawn by buffaloes.
“When the soil is even, we would do mongintaakas, or weeding, in the ploughed area so that weeds would not grow and affect padi production.
“Next comes mananom (padi planting), where we meticulously place each seedling in a row.
In some places, buffaloes are still used to plough padi fields.
“If the line veers off course, restarting becomes necessary, because every inch is crucial,” Bongkos recalled.
During the padi planting, the entire village would unite to assist, adhering to a planting schedule.
“If three persons from the other field come to help us, we reciprocate by sending three helpers from our side when it is their turn to plant padi. And the best memories would be lunchtime. Although the food was humble, we relished every bite,” he said.
About three months later, the padi is ready for harvesting, or locally called mongomot, using linggaman, a traditional harvesting knife, followed by mongogik (separating the padi from its stalk usually by stepping), manahau (winnowing), monutuh (separating the rice from the husk), and lastly, the rice would be stored in tangkob (padi storehouse).
Paddy is placed on mat before stepping on to separate it from its stalk.
“I remember that there is always somebody telling stories and asking sundait (riddle) during mongomot at the tabasan (padi field), maybe to kill boredom and lighten the work, besides sharpening the mind to think for answers,” said Kitingan, who is also the Deputy Chief Minister and Agriculture and Food Industry Minister.
Bongkos added that the entire process spans months and is quite laborious. “That is why people in the olden days valued and protected rice.”
In commemorating the successful harvest and bountiful blessings bestowed upon them by the land, the Kadazandusun, Murut, and Rungus communities celebrate Kaamatan, a festival dedicated to honouring the rice harvest and expressing gratitude to Bambarayon.
Tadau Kaamatan (harvest festival), one of Sabah’s biggest traditional festivals, is observed by the ethnic Kadazandusun, Murut, and Rungus communities throughout the state during the month of May, culminating with the state-level celebration at the Hongkod Koisaan in Penampang on May 30 and 31.
This year, Ranau hosted the official launch of the month-long celebration on May 1, after which each district will organise their respective programmes that showcase traditional dances, music, rituals, and culinary delights, fostering unity and preserving cultural identity among the communities.
A young boy harvesting padi.
Kitingan, meanwhile, said the Kadazandusun, Murut, and Rungus community believe that the Kinoigan (God) and Suminundu (God’s wife) sacrificed their beautiful and obedient young daughter, Huminodun, to save the people from famine.
Legend has it that after Huminodun’s sacrifice, her body transformed into essential food items: her flesh into white rice, heart into dark rice, blood into red rice, head into coconut, fingers into turmeric, and hair into onions. It was after her death that the land became fertile.
“In homage to her selflessness, a traditional beauty pageant is held during the Kaamatan festival to crown the fairest maiden as the Unduk Ngadau, meaning the woman crowned by sunlight. This event has become the highlight of the festival,” he said.
Both KDM and Rungus leaders also agree that the younger generation lacks a profound understanding of the true essence of Kaamatan.
“Today, we have all the machinery to do farming, buffaloes are replaced by tractors. People have the option of not engaging in padi planting, they can just ‘harvest’ the rice at supermarkets. This disconnect from the hard work involved in padi cultivation reduces Kaamatan to merely a festive occasion,” said Bongkos.
Kitingan expressed concern over the dwindling community cohesion, adding: “In the past, people would gather at the river to fetch water, fostering bonds. Nowadays, with water pipes installed in homes and fences separating properties, you probably don’t even know your neighbours. That is why people call it the good old days.”
Meanwhile, 51-year-old Eddie Angat from Kampung Hungab, Penampang, emphasises the significance of padi cultivation by bringing his children, nephews, and nieces to the padi fields.
“I involve my sons Romouldo and Ricarldo, and their cousins, in the process so they can develop a deeper appreciation for rice. We still practise the old way, from using buffaloes to planting in a straight line ... no shortcuts. It adds a special sweetness to celebrating Kaamatan,” he said.
