Storytellers for Change: Featuring Pinarsita Juliana Chapter II

Learn from Kubung

by Pinarsita Juliana

Life as Indigenous community is tough. They have to adapt, but never given any protection

In this second chapter, Pinarsita shares the story of her journey in creating Rayah, a documentary that follows the Indigenous Dayak Tomun community as they navigate the rapid changes brought by modernization. Through conversations with local community member and artist R.K. Maladi, the film explores the tensions between progress and preservation.

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Life as Indigenous community is tough. They have to adapt, but never given any protection

If we’re feeling physically good, we’d usually continue the journey regardless of the time, heading to Kubung a village in Delang Subdistrict, which is about four more hours away. This time, however, we chose to spend the night in Nangabulik.

My two colleagues were fasting, and it’s been only 4 days since the Ramadhan month started, so they still needed time to adjust. Having worked at Save Our Borneo for several years, I’m the only non-Muslim. I understand the rhythm; we’re tolerating one another.

It felt like I’d only closed my eyes for a moment, yet morning had already arrived and our journey continued. The winding, undulating road—like a game of snakes and ladders—made our stomachs churn. Compounded by the patchwork asphalt roads here and there, the severely damaged roads jolted the entire car. From the very first time we step foot to today, the road to the farthest village in Delang Subdistrict has never been smooth.

The journey to Kubung isn’t just about distance, but about understanding who is constantly forced to adapt without protection

A few small shops now have refrigerators. Of course, ice cubes aren’t a rare commodity anymore.

In fact, there’s even internet services now. But it’s not a government facility; it’s a private initiative. You have to buy data packages. Some would last 3–5 hours, 12 hours, or a week-long plan. Just don’t expect wide coverage. The internet signal won’t reach too far—only around the seller’s house. So you have to be smart about finding spot to hang out comfortably to get a strong connection.

Now, shopping can be done online. Delivery couriers from the neighboring province, West Kalimantan, are regular visitors to the village. Even buying electricity tokens is now can be done online.

The Indigenous community seems to adapt very quickly. Strangely, I feel foreign.

Electricity has finally arrived, but change always brings questions: what gets lost along the way?

We stayed at R.K. Maladi’s house while in Kubung. He’s the lead character in the documentary- ‘Rayah’ that we produce. A father of two sons who are both currently studying on the island of Java. He often told us proudly that his children were able to attend college even without palm oil.

“This is money from selling jengkol alone,” he said with a laughter.

Lately, many villages in Central Kalimantan have been rushing to plant palm oil. The prices are considered more stable than those of other natural products. Though the maintenance costs are often complained about as being more expensive. However, the reality is that Indigenous communities are being forced to adapt to this foreign crop.

“I even tried planting some oil palm in my field, just to see how this plant grows, what its maintenance is like, and what the yield is. For me, it’s not worth it; it’s more profitable to farm rice, grow jengkol, and raise pigs,” said Maladi.

According to him, growing oil palms requires money. For him, a primary school teacher and artist in the village, oil palms are simply too expensive. Furthermore, Maladi explained that Indigenous communities who switched to planting oil palms did so primarily due to the massive campaigns in the village claiming that planting oil palms is more profitable.

“But even without planting oil palms, we can still survive,” he said.

Sure enough, in Maladi’s field we saw oil palm trees growing among his rice plants. The palms were stunted, as he no longer tended to them. The only reason they were still kept was for the young shoots, which could be harvested as a vegetable.

We don’t lack ways of life; we’re just being forced to change them

The walk to the fields feels like a workout. The path climbs uphill through hilly terrain, still covered in yellow-orange soil. We set out at midday, after filming Maladi teaching berayah—chanting verses or pantun (poem)—to his students at school.

Two of my colleagues had to break their fast that day. The brutal heat combined with the uphill trek was too much to bear.

Maladi, on the other hand, has adapted. For communities whose livelihoods depend on farming, the heat of the sun is a blessing—it helps ensure abundant harvests. Too much rain, on the contrary, can prevent the rice from growing optimally.

Come to think of it, the scorching heat also worked in our favor. Even as we grimaced and complained, it allowed us to finish filming that day.

However, Maladi admitted that in recent years, the weather has often become extreme.

“In the past, the windy season was just windy. But now the winds are very strong—like nothing is holding them back. Maybe it’s because so much forest has been cut off,” he said.

For him, both the natural environment and Indigenous communities are under threat. Deforestation looms over forests and customary lands, while Indigenous Peoples must continue to struggle for recognition from the state.

This makes their burden even heavier. Beyond caring for their environment, they are constantly forced to adapt to the changing times and ways of life.

For Maladi, electricity and development in the village are encouraging. But at the same time, he fears these changes may erase their identity as an Indigenous People.

“It’s the same with rayah. I worry that our culture and other traditions will gradually disappear. Meanwhile, our very existence is still not recognized by the state. In the end, everything might just become stories,” Maladi said.

To me, this is an irony. On one hand, Indigenous communities are celebrated as guardians of nature. Their dances and rituals are often showcased in official events. Yet in reality, they are still treated as objects.

The story of the Dayak Tomun in Kubung village is just one of many dilemmas faced by Indigenous Peoples. In truth, it is nothing new.

Indigenous communities are often praised as guardians of nature, but rarely truly protected.

Follow the journey of Pinarsita Juliana in protecting nature and amplifying the rights of Indigenous Peoples.

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