Hammer it, go on, you know you want to!

1982 a small town in Sarawak called Miri. The main street had classically imperialist British architecture, arcaded shops, some of which sold Chinese medicines, materials and tools. Malay, Chinese, Europeans and the local jungle tribes would mingle in a melting pot of cultures. Our little girl was constantly losing her cool as these fascinated and fascinating people reached out to touch her curiously blonde hair, everybody else they saw had black hair. The Penan, wonderful tiny jungle dwellers walked proudly through this throng, their ancestors were trackers for the British forces who fought the Japanese during WW2; clad in a loincloth the men carried a small rush backpack, often they would also carry a Japanese Officer’s sword which had been permanently borrowed from a former soldier. It may be worth mentioning that these folk had, until recently, been renowned as headhunters. The swords were really useful tools of their trade. We had a rugby team, members included Malay Police and a Chinese hairdresser. One of the Malay Police/Army Inspectors was a huge mild mannered prop, his father had been one of the last headhunters.  

The shops had tiny frontages but extended backwards into narrow but very high shelved areas, especially the tool shops. The tool emporiums were rather like one would imagine a ‘Godown’ to be from the early days of Shanghai, not much in front but cavernous displays of equipment, most of it out of reach. The passerby could only imagine what lay within; I was on the prowl, trying to locate a Mallet. To those who don’t know, a mallet is a large headed wooden hammer used in carpentry to strike the handle of a chisel when constructing joints. I went into the first two shops. “Do you have a Mallet please?” “No!” Odd, but off I went, second shop same result. 

At the third shop it dawned on me I was doing this wrong. “Hello, do you have a Mallet?” “No!” Pause to regain sense of humour, “What I need is a large wooden hammer…..” Chinese shop assistant thought a moment, “Oh…..you want a Marret!” “Yes I want a Marret please.” They did them in all sizes, see above. 

In the jungle the ability to improvise skills and tools is a necessary art form. The piece of an engine that holds the pistons in place and makes them slide up and down in the engine, in synchronicity with all the other moving parts, is called a cam shaft. Big 18 wheelers hauling lumber go through cam shafts with monotonous regularity. I watched an ancient Chinese renewing a shaft on a modified lathe, squatting in the dirt of his workshop he worked that lathe like a magician. Result, new cam shaft, inexpensive and immaculate. 

It’s not often you can buy Mahogany tools for “sweeties,” as they say in Nicola Land.