"Dressah? Doktor?"

I jumped out of bed and thrust my head out of my bedroom window. Slowly my sleepy eyes focused on four Kayans in the gloom. Their cigarettes which were rolled like small cones with the smaller ends stuck between their lips glowed in the darkness. I could not make out who they were.

"Siapa?" I replied. I was then young and willing to help and serve them any time of the day  or night. I liked these simple folks. They were honest and friendly. They trooped up the knoll on which my quarters stood.

Bare from feet to thighs, each had a chawat on. A small rottan mat at the haunch of each served as a seat on the ground or floor. I would certainly feel naked with a chawat on, but they in turn, would find a pair of trousers too cumber some. One of them said that Penghulu Buso wanted to see me.

In about five minutes, I was walking with them to the river-bank where their perahu was tied. It seemed that a woman had labour pains for about two days. All had patiently waited until now, and they were anxious for the woman's life. She had not slept, being afraid to do so, and had knelt on the floor for the same period. The dayong had done all she could and it was up to the dresser to help her now. The leader explained these facts as we moved off.

Among these simple and shy women, a dresser was only required when everything else they did in delayed childbirth had failed. They had  called the dayong. They had called on the gods and spirits in propitiation. The husband had walked over the abdomen of the prostrated women, thrice. The old women in the village had gone through all the taboos which had to be jointly observed  by the husband and his wife, and these had been rigidly adhered to. Among the many restrictions (which were not unlike those observed by the Chinese and Malays), two rules stood out: fresh-water turtles were forbidden to be brought into the room, and the pregnant women was not permitted to stand in the doorway. The implication was plain. The foetal head would refuse to crown its neck like the darting and withdrawing head of t he turtle.

It was three o'clock in the morning. I shivered because of the cold. This cas was for the doctor but in this godforsaken  place, this case was for the gods, if I heard them right:  My first thought was Sibu, a distance of about 200 miles away.  But then, could I overcome native superstitions and reluctance to have her sent to Sibu? I thought I had it.

This case was my major one, the first after my arrival in Belaga a week ago.  The attendance at the dispensary was small and compared to my predecessor, it was far below normal.  He had the reputation of having saved a young girl from a poisonous snake-bite, an old man from being choked to death by chicken bone, and having revived a drowned boy.  His list was formidable.  I felt that I was not in that position, nor had I sufficient experience to match or catch up with his renowed cures.  The confidence of the people had to be won.

I could see the attendance dropping if I failed to alleviate the woman's delayed childbirth.  As these thoughts came to my mind, the paddler had sent the perahu gliding rapidly along the dark river in between towering trees.  I felt it was like riding on the back of a black gigantic serpent and the silhouette of the towering trees seemed like silent sentinels guarding the banks of the river.  At last, at what seemed to be hours (which was in fact, only one hour) travelling on the river, the boat nosed into the muddy bank.  In the dark, I balanced with difficulty on the notched logs and felt my way up slowly.

The door of the bilek creaked gently on its bottom hinges, as I pushed my way in.  It closed automatically by a heavy stone tied to it by rattan.  The stench of sweat and damar smoke assailed my nostrils.  It was warm inside the room compared to the chilly air outside.  The spluttering damar fire cast fantastic shadows on the walls.  There was half a dozen anxious women and one who looked more worried than the others.  She spoke to me in local Malay.  She was a midwife, about forty-five years old, wrinkled and skinny but appeared authoritative.  She was, it seemed, well-known.  Many women had cause to thank her for pulling them through in childbirth, or expelling the placenta with incantations and manual labour.  She had grown rich with many brass gongs, ancient beads and some poultry.

It appeared that the woman in labour had contractions for three days.  The pain was now rather intense and came at shorter intervals.  She had weakened considerably through vomiting.  I approached the distressed woman, kneeling by the wood-fire.  She was supported by two woman and her limp hands held onto a rattan suspended above her.  I made her lie down, amidst protest from the other women.  The midwife stood by unhappily.  I examined  the woman, and counted the foetal heartbeats.  Putting all my findings together - L.O.A., vertex, etc.,- my drooping spirit soared.  She was going to be alright; I told the woman so and grave her sedative.  She would be due two to three hours' time.  All that she needed now was to rest and sleep.  She, all too eagerly or perhaps careless of what might happen, accepted my advice readily.  The other women protested but I stood firm by my training which unfortunately was too short.

After having delivered a dozen babies or so in the Lau King Howe Hospital in Sibu, under the guidance and watchful eyes of a senior nurse, I was quickly shipped off to Belaga.  My trip had taken me a week from Sibu to Kapit and thence to Belaga.  Two miserable days were spent on board a cargo cum passenger motor launch.  It was a slow-moving launch, a little matchbox of an engine driving a sizeable house against fast-flowing current most of the time.  It was most uncomfortable and annoying to find a place to sleep among the goods and baggage's.  At night was cool, but the heat of the day was murderous.  But for a plump, sweet sixteen on board, I would have been a most aggressive traveller, cursing the heat, the small engine and parsimonious towkay.  How she could keep herself as fresh as the morning dew, I failed to realise.  She was friendly but did not overdo her intentions.

All too soon the launch reached Kapit.  I thought I caught a last glimpse of that sweet maiden when she spent her night at Song Bazaar.  She walked out of the launch and out of my life, disappearing into one of the houses.  Before I left for Belaga, the senior dresser's wife reproached me.  The wife of the Chinese Kapitan had complained to her that I was most rude, and my stares had inconvenienced her daughter;

Turning him upside down, I smacked his bottom.  There was a week cry.  I smacked him again, harder.  The baby's objection was joy to the ears.  The room rang joyfully with its first lusty yell;

I was awakened from my reminiscences by a rough hand shaking me.  It was Penghulu Puso who informed me that the woman was great pain.

I quickly left the Penghulu's bilik and when I arrived at the scene a six-pound baby boy lay on the floor.  I then severed his link with the mother, much to the horror of the women.  The mid-wife protested saying that the placenta would crawl up the abdomen and the woman would lose her life.  I pushed her aside, and she watched me sullenly with increasing displeasure.  I started to sprinkle cold and warm water on the silent baby.  There was gasp.  I applied artificial respiration which was approved of for that period 1942.  It seemed a long time before the baby attempted to gasp, gasp and GASP;  Turning him upside down, I smacked his bottom.  There was a week cry.  I smacked him again, harder.  The baby's objection was joy to the ears.  The room rang joyfully with its first lusty yell;

The placenta was no trouble.  I kept the woman away from the wood-fire which would have been a foot behind her.  I made her lie down, contrary to native belief that a woman must sit up for at least twenty-four hours, with her toes together, legs outstretched, immediately after childbirth.

These simple natives were taciturn.  They were not profuse with thanks.  What had happened was fated and the right man had come along.  Penghulu Puso was happy, and when I left his longhouse in the morning, he said, "Anak, you have done well;"

Such was the cordial relationship which existed between the Penghulu and myself.