I didn't expect to find myself on a toilet cubicle campout

by Olivia Gregory (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

I didn't expect to find Malaysia

I didn’t so much set foot, as I did set face onto Bornean soil for the first time, as I stumbled from the plane like a new-born lamb finding its legs. My cheek greeted this new land as it smacked against the hot tarmac of Kota Kinabalu’s airport runway. Upon reflection, this perhaps should have been an indication of the obstacles that lay ahead of me. As far as I was concerned, I was an audacious student, on a mission to immerse myself in a different culture. Naturally, this began with a McDonalds from the airport drive-through for my first culinary experience. My trip was three weeks long and gifted me with incredible sights from sun halos to lightening over Mount Kinabalu. Yet what resonated with me the most was my time in Widu: a mountain side settlement home to a small community of the Dusun people. Not because of these incredible moments but because of the unexpected situations in which I found myself. Being one of the most isolated places I stayed and with one of the richest histories, it was a chance to truly immerse myself in a new way of life. My first challenge presented itself as I was crouched in the back of a sweltering minivan which faced the task of ascending the one, virtually vertical, dirt track making Widu accessible. The van looked to be holding itself together by only a few loose screws and whined as it trudged forwards. After looking on after packs of wild dogs running ahead into the distance and exchanging several worried glances, we found ourselves clasping onto the burning metal of the boot, rust rubbing off on our thighs, as we persuaded the van onwards for the final two miles. My recent diet of tree bark, which the local women ground into a rice-like substance, and scraps of chicken, had not prepared me for this level of physical activity. Upon finally arriving, we were taken by one of the Dusun to see a jar. At first, this was all it appeared to be to me but by the end of my trip, this jar had me questioning whether the way I think should be so black and white. The jar holds a tale dating back centuries and the Dusun have seen many mysterious happenings surround it. They believe it cannot leave Widu, as we were told even the governments aircraft that should statistically carry it, could not. I was staying in a wooden hut on the boundary between the communal field and the dense forest. I spent my first evening peering through the gaps in the wooden slats, searching for strange wildlife. I received more than I had bargained for! That night I lay with only a mosquito net separating me and an insect which was quite literally the size of a rat. I did not take my eyes off it until I eventually fell to sleep. My following nights in Widu were only more testing. Our toilet cubicle was a cloth, hung in a circle, with a punctured Coca Cola can as a shower head, located on the other side of the forest. Granted, the people who lived here were incredibly innovative, however I failed to appreciate this as I spent my third night in Widu camped out in this cubicle. I had tried to avoid tackling the daunting journey to the toilet on previous nights, but here I was, with my headtorch balancing loosely upon my sunburnt forehead, when I heard something moving. The only thing we had been warned were dangerous… were the bores. The thing we were told we were the least likely to encounter… were bores. The thing moving… was a bore. I ran to the cubicle, turned off my torch and sat as silently as possible. I will never know how long I sat there, waiting to be sure they had gone, all I know is that on my way there it was pitch black outside and my journey back to bed was accompanied by pink skies as the sun rose up above Mount Kinabalu.