Nature’s Pharmacy: Ethnopharmacological Treasures of Krayan, North Borneo

A glimpse of the lush rainforest along the Krayan River, where nature's wealth includes a wide variety of traditional medicinal plants. Photo by the author.

Across these lands, local wisdom is more than heritage; it’s survival. Among Indonesia’s diverse peoples, cultural knowledge has long guided everything from rituals to remedies. And nowhere is this more evident than in the practice of traditional medicine.

If you ever find yourself in North Kalimantan—whether for work or for leisure—make time for a journey to Krayan, a remote enclave in Nunukan Regency. Why Krayan? Because its rainforests remain among the last truly untouched by deforestation, mining, or industry. Here, the air is crisp, the rivers run clear, and the forests speak—if you know how to listen.

This is where the Dayak Lundayeh people have lived for generations, drawing healing from the land. Their knowledge of medicinal plants—passed down orally and through practice—is what scientists today call ethnopharmacology. In Krayan, the forest is both pharmacy and classroom.

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Ethnopharmacology

Rooted in centuries of inherited experience, many of Indonesia’s ethnic groups possess rich pharmacological traditions that rely entirely on the natural world. 

Known as obat tradisional, these remedies are drawn from an estimated 20,000 species of medicinal plants scattered across the nation’s sprawling rainforests. Yet, as recent studies show, only about 1,000 of these have been formally documented, and a mere 300 are widely used in traditional healing (Kurniawan et al., 2022).

In pharmaceutical science, this growing field of study has a name: ethnopharmacology. More than the study of folk remedies, ethnopharmacology delves into how ethnic communities understand, prepare, and use natural substances as medicine (Roudotuljannah and Azizah, 2019). It’s science grounded in culture—an intersection of biology and belief.

This knowledge is especially vital in places where modern healthcare remains out of reach.

One such place is Binuang Village, nestled deep in the interior of North Kalimantan Province, near the remote Indonesian-Malaysian border. Surrounded by nearly untouched jungle, the village spans more than 1,100 hectares—80% of it dense forest. For the Dayak Lengilo’ people who live here, the forest is more than backdrop. It’s pharmacy, pantry, and teacher.

Nearly all of Binuang’s residents are farmers or gardeners, drawing from the land to support their families and communities. But the isolation is profound. The nearest health clinic requires a multi-hour motorcycle ride through rugged terrain. For serious illnesses, patients must board a small aircraft and fly 30 minutes to the nearest hospital. In such circumstances, conventional medicine is not only impractical—it’s often inaccessible.

That’s why, for generations, the Dayak Lengilo’ have turned to nature.

Passed down orally and practiced communally, their use of medicinal plants is shaped by centuries of trial and tradition. Plants aren’t merely identified—they are revered, understood, and integrated into cultural practice. Among the most frequently treated conditions are fever and pain, typically addressed with natural analgesics and antipyretics. Overreliance on synthetic drugs can lead to side effects and dependency—another reason these communities value plant-based alternatives.

Traditional remedies

According to interviews with local villagers, several traditional remedies are used to treat such ailments. Known locally as Keboro, Siguk ada’, and Datu’ belanda, these plants are believed to reduce fever, ease pain, and support recovery. Yet, despite their use, much remains undocumented.

And that’s the danger.

As modernity edges closer, knowledge of these plant-based treatments is fading. Globalization, migration, and the decline of oral traditions threaten the survival of this cultural treasure. Without intentional documentation and research, an entire pharmacopoeia risks being lost.

To protect this legacy, researchers are turning to ethnopharmacological studies—using both qualitative and quantitative methods to document and analyze traditional medicinal practices. Interviews with community elders and healers are conducted using snowball sampling techniques. 

From there, data is analyzed using indicators such as Use Value (UV), Informant Consensus Factor (ICF), and Fidelity Level (FL), which help determine the relative importance and reliability of each remedy (Sujarwo and Caneva, 2016).

Prior studies in neighboring Dayak Lundayeh communities, such as those in Terang Baru and Long Api villages, have identified dozens of medicinal plant species used for ailments ranging from wounds to digestive issues. 

Researchers like Diana and Matius (2019) and Afromika (2021) documented as many as 73 species in some villages, with leaves being the most commonly used part of the plant.

Yet those studies, while groundbreaking, focused more on cataloging species than on understanding their effects on specific conditions like pain or fever.

The Dayak Lengilo’ and Dayak Lundayeh peoples are culturally and geographically close—neighbors in both blood and tradition. Their shared history includes a deep reliance on the land for healing. But Binuang remains unstudied, its wealth of therapeutic knowledge still largely untouched by formal science.

This is where the work begins.

By documenting and analyzing the Dayak Lengilo’s use of analgesic and antipyretic plants, researchers hope not only to preserve endangered cultural knowledge—but also to reveal nature-based remedies that could one day inform global healthcare. What grows in Binuang may hold insights for the world.

For now, it’s a story of preservation, not just of plants, but of a people and the wisdom they carry—one leaf, one root, one remedy at a time.

-- Masri Sareb Putra