To the geologist this hilly area means alternating Miocene sandstone and shale, and the presence of minor amounts of oil and gas, the latter blowing out in an exploration wildcat well around 1925. To the biologist/ecologist, it means tropical lowland jungle wilderness harboring some seventy-four species of ficus trees plus many wild, endangered animal species. The nature lover feels the beauty of its seven waterfalls, and is enticed by the genuine jungle atmosphere.

There is also a deep magic vision (I almost wanted to call it reality) surrounded by legends. According to many stories, Lambir is inhabited by semi-human beings called Nagas – powerful spiritual entities revered throughout human history. Every peak of the mountain range belongs to a (Naga) Cobra Queen. From there she reigns over a hierarchy of jungle ghosts and ordinary animals. In many ways these queens are the protectors of earth. They preside over the jungle, and are said to be very close friends of the Buddha of Compassion, a protector of all living beings. The Lambir Queens are dwelling in the waterfalls and are invisible to the ordinary eye. Her presence grants power, bliss and beauty. Yet there is a dark side, too. As every human society has dark underworlds and mafias, so do the Nagas: some spirits in inferior ranks require human sacrifices.

Such are the two mighty Nagas that dwell in the pond under the Latak waterfall. One of the two is said to appear as a giant turtle, the other one as a python snake. This water hole is some twenty-one feet deep, and is alimented by an artesian spring that upwells fresh, cool water from deep down the hill area. The water in the pond feels some seven degrees cooler than the surface water rushing down from the stream above. Some seven feet under the pond’s surface there is a magical cave that leads into the mountain. Legend says those who can see the cave and enter will receive immeasurable powers. Yet only a person of pure heart can enter the cave. Hidden in a labirinth, guarded by cobras and dragons a orange onyx sphere is posed on a dark rock - the wish-fulfilling gem. Only the Buddha of Compassion can touch it.

I love to swim in the pond. Even before I was granted some insight into the soul of this place, I felt enticed by its beauty and magic- and the many freshwater prawns nibbling on my feet.

The last time I visited the Latak waterfall, in December 2004, park rangers hammered a sign into the ground saying: “swimming not allowed.” The day before, a child had drowned, a male young boy, the seventeenth victim recorded over some thirty years.

It was explained to me like this: roughly two times over a period of five years, the Nagas of Latak require the sacrifice of human life. Choosing a child “which has run out of luck and merit,” the victim disappears in the pond, and is dragged down to the bottom by some awesome, invisible force – to resurface later, lacking one eye, or one toe.

These ugly incidents don’t come without warning. The day before the tragedy happens the rivers of Lambir are colored blood-red – a sign that a sacrifice is imminent. All seventeen victims stem from Muslim, Chinese or European families, whilst not a single victim is counted among the native Iban, Kenya or Kayan tribes. But according to another legend, the juvenile victims later reincarnate in the Lambir Hills to become Naga Queens.

The Seventh Naga Queen does not reside in Lambir, but lives on the adjacent Bukit Song. She is described by the locals as particularly strong, and of gentle nature. She began to dwell in Bukit Song after a family conflict with her other queen sisters. Like human beings Naga Queens do quarrel and fight from time to time. Unlike Bukit Lambir, the Bukit Song jungles are not protected by National Park Law. Which meant it became a logging concession some twenty years ago. In those days, a Chinese logging company started to cut a grid of logging roads through the virgin forest.

One day, a forest worker had a dream. The Queen of Bukit Song appeared in great glamour and told the following message: “Please do not cut my trees and kill my animals. I’ve sworn to protect them. You can drive through my forest, but don’t cut into my forest. If you do so, many of you will die.”

The worker reported his dream, and many prayers and ceremonies were performed in Chinese temples down in Miri town. But the rituals were performed with unclean intentions, and prayers were poisoned by thoughts of money and greed. As the logging continued – man’s greed (as always) proved stronger than his fears- the following months were full of spectacular bloody accidents. Many loggers died - being crushed by a tree, squashed by a truck in reverse, or flattened by a collapsing pile of timber. Then one day, the Queen appeared to the project manager in a dream. She looked radiant and powerful, her upper half body a woman, her lower parts a cobra. Her message was clear and to the point. She said: “Stop killing my forest otherwise I’m going to wipe out your entire family.”

This time the message was taken seriously. The logging stopped. And Bukit Song has retained her virgin beauty to this very day.

Every time I drive from Miri down south I await the moment the rugged beautiful shape of Bukit Lambir and Bukit Song crop up on the horizon – telling me how important magic is for our lives, and how important it is to preserve nature, perhaps the most precious gift granted to us by God through our more respectful ancestors. I feel deeply thankful to the seven Cobra Queens, too. May the wonders of this world withstand the onslaught of profiteering, greed and the voracious appetite of an unconscious and ever-increasing human population! May our children and grand-children witness the magic beauty of world’s untamed wilderness!

©2004 by Franz L Kessler

.