A tale of two ‘tamus’

JUST as the heat enveloping Taman Tunku begins to soften and the day edges towards evening, a stretch along Jalan Simanggang transforms.

Big umbrellas bloom one by one, and tables appear as if by magic.

Very soon, the air is filled with the mingled scents of smoked fish, jungle greens and fried chicken.

This is the ‘tamu under the umbrellas’ – one of two markets that form the social and cultural heartbeat of this northern Sarawak neighbourhood.

By definition, a tamu is simply an open-air community market, focusing not only on local produce and goods, but also cultural items.

‘A place of convenience’

Located about 15km from Miri city centre and a mere five-minute drive from Miri Airport, Taman Tunku is one of the largest residential estates in northern Sarawak.

Stretching roughly 3km from north to south, it comprises a diverse mix of low-cost terraced houses, semi-detached units and larger residences.

Originally planned in the 1970s as a low-cost housing estate, Taman Tunku has since expanded following the migration of families from the rural areas to the city.

Developers responded to the growing demand by building more units and shophouses, and over time, larger and more comfortable houses followed.

Named after the nation’s first prime minister, Tunku Abdul Rahman Putra, the estate soon became very attractive to families seeking both convenience and community.

For many residents, however, it is not just the location that defines life in Taman Tunku.

Its two tamus: one is informal and open-air, matching the general description of one; the other is a permanent wet market building built by the local council – tell a story of food, history and cultural exchanges.

‘Daily rhythms’

Flora Sempurai still remembers Taman Tunku as it was in its early years.

She bought a terraced unit in the first phase for RM35,000 in 1990, where she raised her four daughters while working long hours at a dry-cleaning shop.

“The road names here sound so pleasant: Jalan Kuching, Jalan Simanggang, Jalan Limbang, Jalan Lawas,” she smiles.

“We all live in harmony. I have Chinese neighbours on my left, and a Bidayuh family on my right.”

The two tamus, to her, make life more manageable.

Open from early morning until late afternoon, the wet market sells the essentials: fresh fish, pork and vegetables.

The stall-and-umbrella tamu continues the rhythm later in the day, offering jungle produce, poultry fresh from the slaughterhouse and miscellaneous items.

“Back then, whenever I was working late, my children would buy chicken from the wet market and jungle vegetables from the tamu,” Flora, 65, recalls.

“I would always come home to all these fresh items, ready to cook. The tamus made life here very easy.”

‘Cheerful character’

Unlike traditional morning markets, the Tamu Taman Tunku only opens after 2pm.

Located along Jalan Simanggang near a large water tank and rows of shophouses, it draws residents from Taman Tunku as well as nearby areas such as Taman Futee, Kampung Sungai Dalam and even Riam.

By late afternoon, the market hums with activities.

Civil servants still in office attire stop by on their way home.

Elderly couples examine the jungle vegetables, while the younger shoppers ask vendors how to cook unfamiliar greens.

Vendors travel from villages in the rural areas such as Peninjau, Batu Niah, Bakong and Long Lama – some hours away.

They arrive in cars, four-wheel drive vehicles (4WDs) or vans, laden with produce harvested from secondary forests, rivers and backyard gardens.

The umbrellas offer shade, but they also give the market its cheerful character.

Alice Daring, a regular shopper, points out a stall selling wild boar’s meat – a rare sight in recent years following the African Swine Fever outbreak around 2020.

“This Iban woman reared the boar,” she points out.

According to the hawker, her husband found the piglet after its mother was shot during a hunt.

The couple raised it in their Bakong longhouse, a careful experiment that paid off.

Wild boar’s meat can fetch a price of RM35 per kilogramme, comparable to fresh pork.

It is eagerly sought after by the Iban and Bidayuh customers.

Sweet and flavourful, it disappears quickly whenever it appears.

‘More than just trading’

What gives the tamu its charm are the people behind the stalls – mostly, it is a family affair.

Grandmothers pound tapioca leaves using wooden ‘lesong’ (pestle and mortar), while mothers and daughters arrange bundles of ‘terung pipit’ (turkey berry), wild mushrooms and leafy greens in small baskets.

Babies nap on makeshift beds behind the tables as transactions unfold.

Vegetables are tied with rubber bands, allowing customers to choose the freshest bunch.

The vendors usually forage enough for two-day sales, returning to their villages for more supplies when stocks run low.

Their earnings, however, depend heavily on the weather; rainy days bring fewer customers.

Smoked fish from Long Lama is another staple.

One Kayan seller wakes up at 5am to transport her stock, staying with relatives at Kampung Sungai Lusut until it is time to set up.

Some vendors even sleep in temporary sheds behind their stalls during busy periods.

Among the most popular stalls is a fried chicken stand run by a Chinese vendor.

His deep-fried chicken skin, sold in neat paper cups for RM2.50 each, often sells out before 5.30pm.

Using his own flour blend and marinating the chicken in the morning, he produces irresistibly fragrant pieces, also priced at RM2.50 apiece – making it an affordable dinner option for many families.

A small PA system helps him call out orders as the customers patiently wait.

‘Jungle produce galore’

The tamu is also a place where culinary traditions are quietly preserved.

The ‘kepayang’ (Pangium edule, or football fruit), also known as ‘buah keluak’, occasionally appears in the form of saplings or processed products.

The fruit, poisonous in its raw state due to presence of cyanide, requires strict, careful preparations.

As done by the Ibans, the fruits are sliced and soaked in clear jungle streams for about a week to remove the toxin.

The leaves are valued by the Iban and Kayan communities for preserving meat and fish, and they add depth of flavour to salted dishes.

In the Peranakan (Straits Chinese, or the Baba-Nyonya) kitchen, the ‘kepayang’ is essential to ‘Ayam Buah Keluak’ – a labour-intensive braised chicken dish with a dark, rich gravy.

The nut’s flavour is often described as ‘earthy and complex’, reminiscent that of cacao, truffle, coffee and mushroom.

Because of the lengthy preparation, the dish is usually reserved for festive occasions such as the Chinese New Year.

Seasonal fruits draw even larger crowds.

During this time, stalls overflow with durians, cempedak (jackfruit), embawang (jungle mango), tarap (Artocarpus odoratissimus), mangosteen, dabai (local olives), langsat (Lansium domesticum) and rambai (Baccaurea motleyana), as well as rambutans.

Shoppers come not only from across Miri, but also from the neighbouring Brunei.

Vendors at Tamu Taman Tunku do not require council licences, but they are responsible for cleaning the pavements and roads before closing for the night.

By late evening, the umbrellas are folded and the tables dismantled; after that, the street returns to its quiet daytime state.

Freshwater river fish from Marudi and Bakong appear occasionally.

‘Tapah’, a prized delicacy, sells quickly, especially during flood seasons.

It can fetch a price of RM85 per kilogramme.

‘Baung’ and ‘semah’ may also be available sometimes. One thing for sure is the vendors proudly claim that they never sold frozen fish.

Roofed market

Complementing the open-air tamu is the Taman Tunku Wet Market, built by then-Miri Urban District Council in the 1970s.

Sheltered and orderly, it provides fresh fish, pork and imported vegetables alongside jungle produce such as bamboo shoots – both fresh and preserved – as well as rattan shoots, tapioca leaves, ‘bunga kantan’ (torch ginger), and rubber seeds.

With fixed tables, a public toilet and regular cleaning-up, the market remains a reliable daily grocery-shopping destination.

One of its most familiar faces is Tabor Maje, or more affectionately known as ‘Indai Gloria’ (‘Mother of Gloria’ in Iban, as her eldest child is named Gloria), who has been trading at the market for decades.

She began by selling vegetables grown in Batu Niah, back when her husband was still in the civil service.

These days, she sources produce from friends and local housewives.

“I come early, when housewives arrive after sending their children to school,” she says.

“If I don’t sell all my ‘ensabi’ (Brassica juncea, or wild mustard green), I salt it to make ‘kasam ensabi’ (preserved), my best seller.”

For Indai Gloria, customers often become friends.

She patiently explains jungle vegetables to and shares recipes with them.

Many Chinese customers ask about ‘upa lalis’, a palm species believed by the Ibans to help reduce high blood pressure and cholesterol.

If time allows it, she even peels it for them.

‘Soul of neighbourhood’

The atmosphere in both tamus is warm and communal.

Most of the vendors are women who understand their customers’ daily stresses.

Sometimes, there is a competition of sorts between the two places, but the spirit remains cooperative.

The pork sellers at the wet market are mostly Chinese, while the vegetable vendors include the Chinese, Iban, Bidayuh and Kayan folks who have served the community for several decades.

Conversations often begin with curiosity about food, and end with shared knowledge.

Indai Gloria recalls customers asking about the home-cooked lunches that the vendors bring from home.

“People ask what we are eating, and we explain to them,” she says.

“Sometimes they buy a vegetable after learning how to cook it.”

Festive seasons bring further collaborations.

Vendors sell traditional biscuits, pomelos and seasonal treats.

Indai Gloria often helps friends sell homemade Chinese New Year cookies, giving them an opportunity to earn extra income.

Tamu Taman Tunku and Taman Tunku Wet Market are far more than being places to buy food.

They are living spaces where indigenous and non-indigenous communities intersect; where traditions are exchanged alongside produce; and where relationships are built over decades.

In an era of supermarkets and online shopping, these tamus endure because they offer something more human: conversation, memory, and connection.