By D’Drift Team
SEA breeze caresses the skin, carrying the briny scent of salt and the crashing of distant waves. Coconut trees sway in a slow, graceful dance, their fronds rustling in tandem with the wind. The horizon stretches infinitely, where the cerulean sky embraces the boundless ocean. Settled within this serene backdrop stands Lentera Telok Melano Homestay, its turquoise walls mirroring the tranquil waters beyond. A mere hundred metres from the shore, the beach beckons—a soft, golden path where footprints vanish with the tide.
Siti Selmah, a gracious woman of 65, welcomed us with the warmth of a long-lost friend, her hands busy preparing the room for our stay.
Lentera No. 9 was nothing short of exquisite—spacious, inviting, and complete with a comfortable couch that beckoned an afternoon’s rest. The homestay offered more than just a haven for weary travellers. Its interconnected rooms are ideal for friends and families seeking solace by the sea. Right outside, a shimmering pool lay waiting, an alternative for those who wished to linger in the water without venturing far. As night fell and the air cooled, it provided a safe retreat for an evening dip under the stars.
With the beach within reach, an evening stroll is a must. The air turned gentle, wrapping around the skin like a soft embrace, with the waves lapping at the shore in a rhythmic lullaby.
Equipped with sunscreen and a wide-brimmed hat in tow, guests could bask in the golden glow of the sun, their feet sinking into the warm embrace of the sand. Here, the world slowed. Here, the song of the tides spoke of peace.
The Lentera Telok Melano Homestay opened its doors in 2022, after earning its certification from the Ministry of Tourism, Arts, and Culture (MOTAC). Since then, it has been a refuge for weary travellers, drawing nearly a hundred guests each month—especially when school holidays breathed life into its corridors. Siti was no stranger to visitors from far and wide; voices from England, Canada, and Indonesia had all mingled within these walls.
A land of love, loss, and return
But this land—this very soil—holds stories far older than the homestay itself.
It belonged to Siti’s family, passed down through generations, its roots entwined with history both bitter and brave. The land bore witness to days of unrest, when war cast long shadows over Telok Melano.
In 1963, amidst the tumult of the Borneo Confrontation, Siti’s father, Karim Sindang, was taken. The rebels stormed their home, seizing him, his brother, and his cousin, sentencing them to die before a firing squad.
“It was 1963—I was only a child when they took him (father). They (rebels) came to our house to arrest him because he worked for the British government then,” she recalled, her voice laced with memory.
She and her siblings, mere children, lay hidden beneath a mosquito net as gasoline soaked the air around them. The rebels were ready to set them ablaze. But fate intervened. Their leader pulled back the netting, and his gaze met three terrified pairs of eyes.
“They spared us because their leader was against killing children and just took my father, his brother, and cousin instead,” she shared, a quiet gravity in her tone.
The captives were led across the border to Indonesia, where execution loomed. As they were lined up, waiting for death, Karim saw his only chance. He ran. He ran as if the very earth beneath him willed him forward, though his brother and cousin could not escape the bullets that chased them.
He fled along the banks of Sungai Cermai, his body weary, his breath ragged. He ran until his legs could no longer carry him, collapsing into the hollow of a wild boar’s den. When pursuers caught up, a gun was raised, its barrel pointed at his trembling form. The trigger was pulled. But fate, ever fickle, turned her hand—the bullet missed. Karim ran once more.
“For four days, my father went without food and only drank water from the river,” Siti recounted, reliving the tale as he had once told her. When he finally returned home, nothing remained but a single wooden post—his house, his past, his sanctuary, reduced to ash. His family was gone, having fled to Telok Serabang.
Only one soul had stayed behind—a man named Bong Ah Hin, who is a family friend. Siti spoke of him with reverence, calling him an adopted father. Bong had waited, hoping against hope that Karim would return. And when he did, the old friend welcomed him with a glass of water and a handful of crackers before reuniting him with his family.
Scattered like the wind, those who once called Telok Melano home sought refuge in different corners of Sarawak. Siti’s family found their way to Sebandi Ulu, Asajaya. But in 1970, she returned to where it all began—and there she remained.
Borrow only memories, lest the sea weeps
From the emerald embrace of the jungle, the road led us to a world of endless blue. The sapphire sea stretched as far as the eye could see, its surface a mirror to the sky’s shifting hues. It was a place where the past and present entwined like the tide meeting the shore.
And here, as Siti told it, even the sea had stories to tell.
Once, a guest had taken a coral reef as a souvenir. But the sea does not give without expecting something in return. That night, the guest found themselves restless, haunted by a sound—a delicate weeping. The coral, it seemed, longed to go home.
“Just enjoy the nature. Try not to take things with you because something might come along. But if you really want to bring a nice-looking stone or something small that is beautiful, please ask for permission,” Siti cautioned, her voice carrying the weight of old wisdom.
From Padawan, Telok Melano lies 100km away, the journey unfolding along the Pan Borneo Highway. The road wove through Bau and Lundu, hills rising and falling in gentle undulations. It was a smooth ride, a path where time seemed to slow, inviting travellers to take in the changing landscape.
Before turning towards Lentera Telok Melano Homestay, one could continue ahead to Telok Melano itself—the southernmost tip of Sarawak, its mile zero. A place where land gave way to the vast unknown.
The homestay did not offer meals, but it welcomed the scent of home-cooked food. Guests could prepare their own dishes in the communal kitchen, where laughter and stories may mingle with the aroma of simmering spices.
Should you wish to stay at Lentera Telok Melano Homestay, Faiza is but a phone call away at 6013-563 7556. –DayakDaily
