LONG Jaafar had been sitting at the verandah of his house ever since finishing his dinner three hours ago. The chieftain is worried; Si Larut, his pet elephant had broken free of its restraining chain three days ago; it was last seen roaming the forested area around Klian Pauh.
Long Jaafar has fond memories of this 2-year-old pachyderm as he often rode astride it when visiting clansmen living between Bukit Gantang and Lubok Merbau. He fears Si Larut’s life may come to an untimely end if not found soon. A domesticated young bull would surely starve to death in the wild, if predators don’t get to it first.
As he prepares to head indoors, a series of shouts is heard in the distance. Squinting his eyes, Long Jaafar catches sight of a train of jamung (lit torches) appearing from the nearby forest fringe. His heart skips a beat. The men seem to be leading what appears to be a hulking mass behind them.
Judging from its uneven gait, Long Jaafar is confident it’s Si Larut. Unable to contain his excitement, the chieftain orders his guards to open the gates and rushes out to greet the unexpected party. And his hunch is proven correct. Inspecting his pet in the pale light, he’s relieved to see it unscathed. But then he notices something else — Si Larut’s feet are caked in a rather odd looking mud which is darker in hue. Pulverising some with his bare hands, Long Jaafar is surprised to find bits of metallic ore encrusted in the dried mud. The wise chieftain immediately recognises the metal as the fabled tin ore. The rest, as they say, is history.
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OFF TO THE MUSEUM
It’s with this amazing tale in mind that I find myself standing in front of the Kinta Tin Mining Museum one early Sunday morning. Happy to see the doors open at 8.30 am, I hastily make a beeline for the entrance, only to be stopped in my tracks by a burly security guard.
A short conversation ensues and I soon learn that the museum only starts accepting visitors at 9am. “Why don’t you have breakfast at the food court next door first and come back in 30 minutes? The mee Jawa and curry mee there are very good,” suggests the guard, gesturing towards a blue roof visible from the top of a large bamboo grove swaying gently in the morning breeze.
Both the recommended stalls are well patronised. Knowing very well that it’d be near impossible for me to sample both in one sitting, I settle for the mee jawa; fortunately it doesn’t disappoint. The thick orange red sauce infused with a generous squeeze of lime juice is one of the best I’ve ever had. It tastes so good with the customary crispy prawn fritter. With a cup of piping hot kopi-O sieved the traditional way using an old school cloth strainer, it’s certainly an excellent breakfast. I make a mental note to tell my friends back home about this well-kept secret in Taman Bandar Baru Kampar.
The same security guard greets my second attempt into the museum with a smile. Informing me that entrance is complimentary, he proceeds to give me a brief overview of the place before sending me off to explore on my own.
A WALK THROUGH HISTORY
With the morning sun shining gloriously on the outdoor exhibits, I whip out my camera and begin clicking away. On display are two equally important tin mining techniques used in early 20th century Perak.
The diorama of a man raking up tin ore accumulated behind the bars and riffles of the concrete palong captures my imagination and immediately transports me back to the time when the gravel pump reigned supreme in the tin mines of Perak.
Introduced for the first time in 1906 and marketed as an effective means of alleviating the labour shortage problem plaguing the rapidly-expanding tin industry at that time, this novel Western mining method soon replaced the steam-pumping engines used in the open-cast mines.
The gravel pump delivered gravel mixed with sand, water and mud from the bottom of the mine, through a feed pipe, to the top of a palong. Workers stationed all along the elevated sluice box, exactly like the one depicted in the exhibit, would collect the heavier tin concentrate and place them in large wooden tubs before dispatching them down to the tin processing shed nearby for further treatment.
Tracing the cascading water down to a retention pond, I shift my attention to the second exhibit which features two dulang washers. In this male-dominated industry, dulang-washing was the only mining method strongly associated with the fairer sex.
During the late 19th century, panning for tin in river beds using a dulang or circular wooden tray with a deep depression in the middle was a popular form of employment for women. Paid daily wages, these industrious Malay and Chinese women could recover up to 10 kilogrammes of tin ore daily from the river beds. This made dulang-washing a highly lucrative and popular enterprise. By the late 1920s, some 7,500 annual permits were issued at a fee of a dollar each, primarily to women and teenage children.
Moving to the ground floor of the 3,000 square metres indoor display area, the first thing I see is a cabinet filled with an array of dulang-washing equipment. In the past, each dulang lady possessed just three basic tools to complete her daily task — her dulang, a small metal pail, and half of a coconut shell (tempurung).
The process involved swirling the dulang to concentrate the tin ore before tipping the contents into the pail. The tempurung was used to clean the concentrates before the fruits of her labour were carried to the central weighing station.
TALE OF LONG JAAFAR
Venturing further inside, I finally come face to face with a paper mache elephant, a replica of the one that was reputed to have played a pivotal role in its master’s historic tin ore discovery and also inadvertently changed the fortunes of the entire Perak state forever.
Legend has it that Long Jaafar was so pleased with his pet that he decided to name his territory of influence after it — Larut.
There are several jet-black tree trunks crudely decorated with plastic leaves of various hues around the replica of the elephant. Thinking them to be insignificant, I later discover that they’re actually fossilised trees unearthed in 1978 at a tin mine in Batu Karang. Estimated to be around 6,500 years old, these rather plain-looking chengal tree remains are the oldest exhibits in this museum.
According to the information board next to Si Larut’s replica, Long Jaafar began mining for tin in 1848, bringing in, at his own expense, 20 Chinese miners of the Chen Seng Hakka clan from Penang. News spread like wildfire and soon labourers began arriving in droves from China to work in Malayan tin mines. The majority of them landed on our shores between a 60-year period, from 1860 to 1920.
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Long Jaafar’s influence grew in tandem with his rapidly-expanding tin ventures. Within two short years, he was given authority by the-then Raja Muda of Perak, Ngah Ali, to extend his territory to include Kerian, Matang and Selama. By then, he was considered one of the most influential chieftains in Perak.
At the height of his influence, Long Jaafar ruled over Larut from his administrative centre in Bukit Gantang, where he built a defensive fort complete with his own police force. He died in 1857 and was succeeded by his son Che Ngah Ibrahim.
Other interesting exhibits on the ground include a series of tableaux depicting life in the tin mines during the early days. The one I like most is the depiction of a kitchen and common dining area for the working class coolies. This scene immediately calls to mind the unequal relationship between the coolies and their wealthy employers.
Disembarking in Penang after an arduous sea voyage from China, the new arrivals or Sin Kheks, immediately found themselves under a bond to work at the mines devoid of salary for a year in order to discharge their ship passage of $25 each. Aware of this situation, the young men worked around the system, by earning money through overtime.
Unfortunately, the lure of opium proved to be the downfall of many. For many coolies, opium was the panacea for all their worldly suffering, ranging from physical pain to fevers and diseases. More often than not, the cost of opium consumed exceeded
their salary. As a result, many found themselves in deeper debt after a year of hard labour!
FINAL NAIL IN THE COFFIN
The museum’s upper floor is littered with old photographs and documents relating to the tin mining industry. Of special interest are the early tin mining permits with one dating as far back as 1851, just three years after Long Jaafar recovered his missing elephant!
Although the documents are at times a little difficult to read due to the handwriting and font size, visitors really should try to go through them carefully. They tell a very compelling tale of how the over-zealous mine owners and their deep-pocketed investors caused their own downfall in the late 1920s.
By 1929, the unrestricted tin industry had breached its production limits. Matters were made worse as this period coincided with the Great Depression. In an effort to rectify this, the miners began adopting Sunday holidays and eight-day shutdowns in each of the first three months of 1930. This greatly affected the smaller mines, causing them to cease production completely. This marked the end of the great Kinta tin rush.
Over the next half century, the tin market never fully recovered. Finally on Oct 24, 1985, the world witnessed the unprecedented collapse of the Indonesian tin market. Malaysia felt the impact and that date will always be remembered as the final nail in the coffin for our local tin mining industry.
Waving farewell to the guard as I walk past his post, it dawns on me just how heavy a price was paid for the progress brought about by the tin mining industry in this country. The immense wealth that gave birth to the many great cities in our country could only have happened because of the blood, sweat and tears of the many nameless Sin Kheks, and the countless local workers.
I’m heartened by the fact that the museum has chosen to highlight their extreme diligence and immeasurable sacrifices in helping to build the Malaysia we all call home.
FAST FACTS
Kinta Tin Mining Museum, Taman Bandar Baru, Kampar, Perak.
Tel: 05-466 2632.