By D’Drift Team
SERIAN’S winding roads stretch before us, carrying the weight of old stories and new discoveries. The journey to Kampung Pichin (Pichin village) is not merely about the distance—but also about time, where curious travellers can ease into the lifestyle of the Bidayuh tribe. The village is not hidden from the world, but instead just tucked a little deeper, only 16km away from the town of Serian, inviting those who seek something more than just a brief visit.
Built on tradition, rooted in community, open to the world
Kampung Pichin Homestay itself stood tall and proud, an orange longhouse perched on stilts, as if reaching for the sky while remaining rooted to the earth. A traditional Bidayuh ‘barok’ sits attached at the end, a circular ceremonial house where gatherings and age-old customs take place.
Just behind, the villagers’ homes cluster close together, showing visitors the deep sense of community that binds them. It is here that guests, both local and foreign, find a different kind of hospitality—one that welcomes them not as strangers, but as extended family.
Homestay caretaker Ringus Nyawong, a man of warmth at sixty, greeted us with an easy familiarity, his eyes alight with stories and more than happy to tend to us. He gestured towards the homestay, recounting its beginnings. The land upon which it stood saw its first earth-breaking in 2009, a promise of something lasting.
Within a year, the longhouse took its shape, rising from the soil like a pledge fulfilled. In 2011, its doors flung open in celebration of Gawai, the Dayak harvest festival, and soon after, the villagers sought to share their way of life with the world. By 2014, the Kampung Pichin Homestay was officially in operation, ready to offer guests an authentic taste of Bidayuh culture.
The homestay is not just a place to stay but a living, breathing hub of activity. According to Ringus, students from higher learning institutions such as Universiti Malaysia Sarawak (UNIMAS) and Swinburne University often come in droves, taking up all twenty doors of the longhouse as they immerse themselves in research.
At other times, culinary workshops would bring people together, hands busy slicing as they turn humble bananas into crisp, golden chips. When festive seasons arrive, particularly Gawai, the homestay closes its doors to bookings—not to keep visitors out, but rather to welcome them differently, as guests of the village itself, where the celebrations are free for all to partake in.
Despite its deep Sarawakian roots, the homestay’s reputation had stretched beyond borders. Foreigners, too, have found their way here, drawn to its unembellished charm. One such visitor was Sdravko, a Bulgarian-turned-German who had become a regular, escaping the chill of European winters to bask in the warmth of Pichin. He was no mere guest but a familiar presence—his hands tending to fruit trees, his voice fluent in Malay.
“He knows his way around better than some of the locals,” Ringus mused with a chuckle as he recounted how Sdravko splits his time between his homeland and Borneo, where the rhythm of life is slower, the air richer with the scent of rain and earth.
Beyond the homestay, the village itself holds its dignity. Kampung Pichin is not merely a place of residence but a birthplace of leaders. Three prominent figures trace their origins to these very lands—Datuk Amar Michael Manyin Jawong, Datuk Amar Dominic Dago Randan, and Dato Sri Richard Riot Jaem. Their names may echo through the corridors of government, but here, they remain sons of the soil, their legacy rooted in the village that shaped them.
Pichin, where the river remembers
Names hold weight, and the name of this village carried a tale tinged with sorrow. Long before the village had a name, before even the river bore one, there was a man called Pichin.
One fateful day, as he swam through the river’s embrace, convulsions overtook him, pulling him beneath the surface. He never resurfaced. The river, now a voiceless witness, took his name in remembrance. Kampung Pichin, too, bears the echo of that loss, a tribe whose identity was woven alongside the river.
“The river is called Pichin after the incident to lay tribute to the drowned man,” shared Ringus to the D’Drift team.
Yet not all stories of the river are mournful. Another tale lingers among the villagers, passed down through generations—a story of a crocodile, a bargain, and an old woman’s wisdom.
The river was once plagued by litter, with villagers tossing refuse into its waters, where a crocodile lurked, snapping up the debris in its wide maw. In time, the creature fell ill, its body burdened by the waste it consumed. It was then that an elderly woman came forward, offering the crocodile aid. In return, she asked for a promise: that it would never harm the people of Sadong. The pact was sealed.
To this day, those who find themselves face to face with a crocodile in these waters need only pat the river’s surface and speak, “We are people of Sadong. Do not disturb us.” And, as legend has it, the creature will turn away.
A journey’s end, a yesterday’s continuation
Our journey through Serian had begun early, with the road unfurling before us as the morning sun painted the landscape in warm hues. We had left Betong behind at 8.50am, having arrived Serian at 11am, where the scent of freshly steamed buns beckoned us to Ah Guan Pau—a humble stall, easily missed by the unobservant, but a cherished stop for those in the know. Satiated, we pressed on, making our way to Kampung Pichin Homestay.
Ranchan, with its cascading waters, lay just 18.2km away from the homestay, while Jong’s Crocodile Farm, a realm of its own, stood only 45.6km. But for now, we surrender to sleep, knowing that some places do not merely drift into memory—they stay with you, quiet yet unwavering, until the road leads you back.
For those who wish to experience it for themselves, to step into the rhythm of this life, the homestay stands ready—its doors open to those seeking more than just a place to rest. To book a stay, simply reach out to Anthony Siong at 013-820 2670 or Ringus at 014-594 9261. –DayakDaily
