IN the heart of Sabah, in the villages where the forests and rivers whisper their ancient secrets, there lies a heritage that is slowly being forgotten: the wealth of edible plants that have nourished generations.
For centuries, the people here have lived in harmony with nature, thriving off the bounty of the land. Vegetables herbs and roots, grown in abundance in the wild, not only filled stomachs but also served as medicine and remedies for ailments long before supermarkets existed.
Yet today, many of the younger generation see these plants only as “wild,” unaware of their significance. As modernity creeps into rural life, the old ways are in danger of slipping away.
The deep connection between food, culture, and sustainability is at risk of being lost to time. But there are those, like elders and passionate activists, who still believe that these natural treasures can help bridge the gap between past and future.
A Call to Preserve and Protect
For those who grew up in the villages, the connection to the land is not a nostalgic ideal – it’s a way of life.
“If we are not careful with what we have – our food, our land, our knowledge – there will be no legacy left,” warned one NGO member, whose voice is part of a growing movement to preserve the traditional ways of living in Sabah.
It’s not just about saving recipes or knowing which plants to eat. It’s about preserving a worldview that values sustainability, connection to nature, and community.
“Food, like language, is part of culture. Once lost, it is very hard to recover,” she reflected, drawing a parallel to the slow decline of the Kadazan language, which is also fighting to survive.
As much as the younger generation in the village has become disconnected from these traditions, some elders remain passionate about passing on the knowledge.
Take 86-year-old Okong Moluntang from Kg Guunsing, Penampang, for example. She was raised on a diet of homegrown vegetables, and her mother taught her from an early age to recognise the many edible plants that grew around them.
“If given the choice, I will always take homegrown vegetables. I never get bored of such food,” she said, her eyes gleaming with the joy of simple, nourishing meals.
But today, Okong worries that young people have lost the curiosity to learn about the food growing in their own backyards, much less venture into the jungle to forage for wild greens. It’s not just about knowledge – it’s about understanding how the land provided for their ancestors and how it can continue to provide if treated with respect.
A Day in the Life of Lucy Toiyi
Life in the villages is simple but demanding. Take Lucy Toiyi, a 60-year-old woman from Kg Manduring, Pitas. Every day, she wakes up at 4am to tend to her garden, tending to chickens, fish ponds and the rows of plants that supply her with everything she needs to feed her family and customers. By 7 am, she’s already cooking breakfast and running a small tuckshop next to her house.
Lucy’s life is a testament to the resilience of village living. “How can we be hungry when we have land to work on?” she laughed, shaking her head. For her, the key to survival is in the land – the same land that has provided for generations before her.
Despite the challenges – like dealing with snakes and squirrels that spoil her crops – Lucy and her family remain deeply connected to the land. “Living close to nature brings its challenges, but we accept them. Animals are part of the environment, too,” she said with a calm acceptance that comes from years of experience.
But it’s not just the wild animals that cause problems. There’s a deep frustration among villagers that, despite their connection to the land, they still struggle with basic needs – clean water and electricity, for instance. “Is it so hard to give us what we truly need?” one villager asked, a sentiment echoed by many.
The Return to Simplicity
Living in the village means living with simplicity, a life centred around nature’s rhythm.
“What we value most is simple food, a simple home, and a peaceful environment,” said Lucy’s daughter, Paulina, who now lives in Kuala Lumpur.
When she returns home, she admires her mother’s discipline.
“Every day means work for her, but she does it with joy,” Paulina remarked, struck by the stark contrast between village life and city living.
For Paulina, the experience of living in the village, even briefly, always brings her back to the basics. One such experience was her amazement at the plant Losun, similar to chives, which her mother grows in abundance.
While Losun was once just a humble addition to village dishes, it is now a popular ingredient served in Kuala Lumpur’s upscale restaurants as part of Linopot – a traditional dish made from rice wrapped in leaves, served with simple, easily accessible condiments.
In fact, many once-overlooked foods, such as Bambangan (a wild mango) and tapioca (once considered food for the poor), are experiencing a resurgence in popularity.
Bambangan, a seasonal fruit traditionally turned into pickles, is now sold in large jars, attracting a growing market, while tapioca has found its way onto restaurant menus as a sophisticated ingredient.
Reviving Traditions for the Future
There is a growing movement among young people to learn these traditional recipes and share them with others. Cooking classes are being organized in some communities to make sure the next generation doesn’t forget the importance of their food heritage. “These plants are not just wild plants – they are food, medicine, and heritage,” said one local activist, emphasising the need to pass on the knowledge to ensure these traditions survive.
Part of this movement is not just about cooking but about learning how to care for the land itself. Healthy soil, rich with microorganisms, is essential for growing food that is safe to eat. Groups are already working to protect the soil from harmful chemicals that can destroy its health, but it is clear that this is not just their responsibility – it’s everyone’s.
The simplicity of village life can seem like a distant dream for many who are consumed by the hustle of modern life. But for those who remember, who have lived it, the wisdom of the past remains a powerful force.
“How can we return to that simple way of living, where joy comes from nature and daily work, not from material things?” one villager asked, pondering the true cost of modernity.In a world where convenience and commercialism often overshadow the importance of sustainability and community, it’s essential to pause and reflect on the way we eat, the food we value, and the connections we’ve lost with the land.
As the elders in Sabah continue to advocate for the preservation of natural foods and the revival of forgotten traditions, perhaps the future can find a way to honour the lessons of the past – one meal at a time.
