Rewind...

... to July 2001

If ever there was an island that conjured up ideas of primeval times reaching into our days it is the island of Borneo - the second-largest remaining expanse of tropical rainforest inhabited until recently by unique animals and the not-so-distant memory of head-hunters and cannibalism. Ever since childhood, whenever I looked at the world-map my eyes always came to rest on that huge landmass, suspended as if in limbo between the sweeping curve of Indonesia and the gulf of Siam. And yet I don’t believe I ever dreamt that I would live here and so never really cared to investigate beyond the presumptions that I gathered over the years from loose bits of information, and it is armed with these that I fly in, full of expectation about what the next four years will bring.

The first of these beliefs is washed aside as soon as I get off the plane and make my way through the terminal to immigration: the building is sleek and organized and everywhere I look beautifully styled posters welcome me to Negara Brunei Darussalam – The Abode of Peace – and as I walk out through the sliding glass doors into the heat and the humidity, the punch-line in the slogan hits me in the face leaving me gaping for air; I have reached The Land of Unexpected Treasures!

Those few treasures we drive past on the first drive home are indeed unexpected. The Ministry of Finance, a mammoth structure of glass and steel built to the now banished and unfavourable prince Jeffri’s specifications, with its car-lift to his office on the top floor; gilded mosques, conditioned and kept cool on the inside thanks to slabs of marble brought in from Italy; lush public gardens constantly manicured by Filipino and Indonesian ‘thrillers’ [I have few doubts that Michael Jackson must have come here in the 80’s to steal the idea for a video from Brunei’s gardeners]; mansions, and more mansions, all impressive-looking and sporting car-ports for an army of cars, but seemingly abandoned; and all this while floating along modern motorways through patches of jungle from one part of the city to the next, being overtaken by cars I’d only seen before in magazines.

Awe-inspiring it certainly is, but I sense a troubling undercurrent I am still unable to describe adequately. If I were on holiday I would have thought I had reached Disney World, but knowing that I will be living here for the next four years I don’t quite know what to think or feel about this lavish display carved out from the thickest jungle.