Keng: Ancestral Echoes from Borneo’s Sky Plateau

Keng: Ancestral echoes from Borneo’s Sky Plateau. Photo credit: Eremespe.

🌍 NUNUKAN | BORNEOTRAVEL : To the Dayak people, they are not apart from the universe—they are a part of it. From this great cosmos they come, and to nature, they shall one day return.

The universe, in their view, is not merely a refrigerator for food. It is the breath of life. It is song. It is sacred hymn.

The sound of a bamboo pole falling to the ground: keeeeng! 

Take keng, for example—a traditional percussive instrument whose origin is as poetic as it is unassuming. It all began with the sound of a bamboo pole falling to the ground: keeeeng! 

Struck by its resonance, someone long ago must’ve paused and thought—what if that sound could be repeated?

The answer came through intuition. The forked tip of a bamboo pole, once used for picking fruit, was trimmed. The playing technique? Striking it gently against the wrist bone —where a small ridge of bone helps produce that crisp, resonant note. And just like that, keng was born. So explains Elias Yesaya, an artist and culture bearer from Krayan.

🎵 Watch the performance here

But keng is more than a musical instrument. It is a cultural artifact passed down by the ancestors of the Lundayeh people, who have lived for centuries in the Krayan Highlands—an elevated, remote region of Borneo where the air is thin, the rivers run clear, and tradition lives on.

The keng reflects a worldview 

The keng reflects a worldview where music is not crafted but discovered—in the way bamboo falls, in the cadence of footsteps, in the hush of wind through the trees.

This musical heritage is part of a greater legacy. The Lundayeh—recognized in Malaysia and Brunei as the Lun Bawang—are one of Borneo’s 405 sub-ethnic Dayak groups. Though names differ across borders, they are the same people, bonded by land, language, and memory.

We paid homage to this heritage on November 3, 2022, during the closing night of the Batu Ruyud Writing Camp, deep in the highlands. There, under the stars, we played keng alongside other natural instruments to accompany Idan Idan—the Lengilo rendition of “Kapan-Kapan,” the beloved Indonesian classic by Koes Plus.

No fancy setup. No formal rehearsals. Just a few spontaneous jam sessions in the cool mountain nights. But somehow, it all clicked—the rhythm, the voices, the bamboo. It touched something old in us. And something new in those who listened.

Music is rhythm, not decoration

To the Dayak, music isn’t just about beautiful sounds. It’s about rhythm. Structure. Repetition. Persistence. A single tone may seem insignificant on its own. But in harmony with others—it sings.

And so our farewell song, carried by the breath of the forest and the pulse of tradition, began to spread. It went viral. Not because it was perfect. But because it was real.

May this music —this living memory— bring joy to all who hear it.

-- Masri Sareb Putra