Baab Aki Kulanga: The mango tree that holds generations of memories in Kpg Sandapak

KENINGAU (April 5): For many of those who grew up in Kampung Sandapak and the nearby villages in Bingkor such as Tuntumolod, Buang Sayang, Tandian, Minansut, Naidat and Tangkongon, their memory is tied to a single name: ‘Baab Aki Kulanga’.

Standing at Jalan Persiaran Taman Bandukan in Kampung Sandapak, this mango tree follows its own cycle.

Unlike other regular varieties, it produces white blossoms and bears fruit throughout the year.

Each mango is small, but distinctive: crunchy when it is still green, but becomes soft, fragrant and sweet as it ripens.

According to the caretaker Paul Ukau, the story of Baab Aki Kulanga dated back to the 1940s, when the original tree stood on ancestral land belonging to Aki Singgon, near the Sungai Kisaging riverbank.

“It was a place where time moved slowly and life unfolded simply.

“Under the tree, children gathered freely, laughing, picking fruits and passing the time without the distractions of modern life.

“There were no clocks, no phones – just the tree, and the rhythm of village life,” he recalled.

For villagers who grew up in the 1960s, the tree was more than a source of fruit – it was a part of everyday life.

Children used simple bamboo knives known as ‘bonut’ to peel the fruit, savouring every drop of juice and even sucking the seed clean.

“These were lessons not taught in school, but remembered for a lifetime,” recounted Paul.

However, not all memories were without danger as there were moments when the seeds were accidentally swallowed or lodged in the throat, prompting quick action to dislodge them – a reminder that even the simplest joys carried risks.

There were also folklores associated with the tree.

One was about Aki Kulanga having been transformed into a celestial being known as ‘Mondou’, linking the tree with the skies and the spiritual world.

The legend was also associated with the ‘Botung Kulanga’ – a site still known in Kampung Sandapak today.

Stories from the Dusun Gana and Kujau communities also spoke about a mysterious presence called the ‘Mogibubuha’.

Villagers said whenever the ripe fruits fell during sudden downpours, not all the sounds came from the fruit alone; some believed that shadows accompanied the falling ‘Baab’, described as ‘eerie figures rolling across the ground’.

That original tree, however, did not survive. Sometime before the 1980s, it fell and what remained of it was burned.

Still, it seemed like nature itself refused to let the story end as years later, a new sapling emerged near the original site.

Since then, the spirit of the tree not only continues, but is reinforced through a simple act of generosity.

Paul, as the caretaker, invites all visitors to come, taste and take the fruits without any charge as he believes that such invaluable sustenance is meant to be shared, not kept for oneself.

Today, the tree stands within the grounds of Balai Kasih Adela, serving as more than just a plant, as it is also a keeper of memories, a bridge between generations, and a symbol of enduring community ties.

Beneath its branches, the visitors initially arrive as guests, but later leave carrying stories.