Camping in the jungle......

When I was kid I’m sure most mums weren’t this good looking, or wore yoga pants! The young lad was sitting sideways on the bike rack, oblivious to everything as he ate his ice-lolly. 


Miri - Sarawak - Borneo. Our rugby club was mostly composed of ex-pats but we prided ourselves on incorporating any Malay or Chinese people who wanted to join us. Three of our players were officers in the Malaysian Army/Police force that patrolled the jungle, constantly protecting the borders against Indonesian infiltration. 
For weeks the team captain, a lovely man, Dave Beacham, had been asking me to take him and some of the children for a sleepover in the jungle. I had refused as it’s a recipe for disaster. The jungle is benign whilst also being dangerous for the unprepared or unaware. He wore me down, I had a chat with our Malay players and they provided hammocks, mossie nets and all the good things we would need. Eventually I took four adults and ten children aged 8 - 10 out for some experience they would possibly never repeat. 
About an hour outside town there is a large pool fed by a waterfall, the water is clean and cool, the jungle is exactly the opposite; the previous week a patrol had killed and eaten a 23’ python near our base. We left the vehicles, all turned around to point back to town, then trecked 10 minutes into the jungle, found the pool and climbed to a beautiful, natural camp site beside the waterfall. The stream was clean and had a pool about the size of a single garage. 
This was the dry season, between monsoons, so we cleared the ground of dead, inflammable, leaves etc. I taught them how to put up their hammocks and mossie nets, waterproof covers were not needed, then let them loose. The children were brilliant, all were very trustworthy with knives, and they had been allowed more freedom than many children in the protected environment of towns and cities. After 45 minutes they were all set. 
Dave was intent on building a “Basha” a framework of bamboo and a bed built on top using palm leaves etc. I gave him a “Gollock” or what you would call a machete. It kept him happy and busy for the next two hours. Needless to say he built a double bed! One of the adults took the group of kids down to the big pool and they went bananas playing under the waterfall and swimming like fish. They had all attended the compulsory swimming lessons organised by the Dutch parents. When they returned they were fed and did the washing up in the small pool, this was hilarious fun for them as there were fresh water shrimp running around grabbing bits of food and tickling the children’s feet.
It gets dark early under the canopy. I had told them that fires would be lethal, so we sat around listening to the jungle noises, the creatures we could not see. By 9pm they were all in their hammocks, giggling and chatting quietly. In an hour they were asleep, as were the adults, or so I thought. I was calmly enjoying the snuffles and soft snores as I sat in my hammock, watching and waiting. At about midnight I saw a dark shape move from left to right. Out came my gollock and torch. I came up behind the shadow, tapped it on the shoulder and said, very quietly, “Dave, what are you doing?” He nearly went potty in his pants.
“I’m lighting candles to frighten away the animals Rob!”
“Dave, you have lived all your life as an animal in the jungle, suddenly one night you see sparkling lights, do you run or are you curious and go closer?”
“Ohhhh shhheeeeeet!!!”

Breakfast of beans and sausages was followed by washing in the stream, a complete tidy up and the return of excited children to their parents. Our daughter still remembers that night, so do I!