What This Site Is, and What It Is Still Trying to Become
My name is Edu Mungan. I live in Putussibau, Kapuas Hulu, though I was grew up in Sejiram, on the banks of the Seberuang river in Kapuas Hulu, West Kalimantan. My day job runs from 7:30 in the morning until 4:30 in the afternoon. This site exists in the hours after that work is done, and on Saturday mornings when the world is still quiet.
Two shelves, one house
Everything published here belongs to one of two categories. They are kept on separate shelves on purpose.
The goal here is not to become famous. It is not to build a brand. It is to make a permanent digital home for stories that come from my village, and for the cultural notes that explain those stories. If a line stays with a reader, if a detail teaches them something they did not know before, if someone from Sejiram sees their own life reflected without distortion — that is the measure of success.
The Chronicles — Fiction
Sulung and Bungsu. Brothers under an ironwood longhouse. The red thread tied around their wrists. The salt lines laid across every threshold at dusk. The roof that learned to speak in beetle shells.
This is invention. I have said so plainly on the Archive page, and I will say it again here. The protective practices are mine. The floating longhouse is mine. The magic that answers to the rules is mine. The emotional logic — the weight of vigilance, the cost of vigilance, the way one brother bears what the other cannot — that is real.
The Archive — Education
Sourced cultural notes from Sejiram and Kapuas Hulu. Tebelian/Belian ironwood, the tembawang forest garden, the bilit/pangkin and ruai division of the longhouse. Beuma and Nugal as agricultural traditions recorded in the local university journal. Gawai festival days. Alah Tala, Betaha and the higher power in Dayak belief.
The Archive does not expire when a story ends. It is a standing companion to every serial. Readers can link to specific entries from individual chapters, creating a web that holds both fiction and fact in the same browser tab.
I am not a writer by trade. I write because there are stories that will not leave me alone, and notes that need to be recorded before they fade.
If you are from Sejiram or nearby:
1. Tell me what I got wrong. This page will be revised when errors are found.
2. Tell me which names you prefer. Are you Dayak Suaid? Uhang Sebehuang? Something else?
3. Tell me which cultural terms I should avoid using altogether. Share these pages with elders who might want to correct them.
What readers can do
I am a solo operator. I do not have editors, reviewers, or research assistants. I rely on readers who know better than I do.
If you are a reader anywhere:
Leave a comment on any chapter. Even a short note helps. I read them all.
Share a chapter with someone who likes slow, atmospheric stories.
Point me to sources I have missed. I am looking for anthropology journals, local government records, photographs, oral histories.
Invitation
If you have read this far, you are already part of the project.
You are welcome to browse further. You are welcome to read The Whispering Rafters from Chapter 1 onward. You are welcome to explore and see what is sourced and what is invention.
For those who choose to stay: thank you. If you wish to leave a comment, share a correction, or offer a small tip, the links are at the Support the Stories.
See you in the next chapter.