Siang-ngau: The Hakka Footprint on Borneo’s Shores

The front cover of the 646-page historical novel The Hakka of Sanggau.

Sanggau is a river town nestled along the mighty Kapuas in West Kalimantan. Here, history is not merely a memory, it lives on in the names of old Chinese shop houses, the incense-filled halls of temples, and the winding alleys where two worlds once converged.

“Siang-ngau: The Hakka Footprint on Borneo’s Shores”, a historical novel by Indonesian writer and researcher Masri Sareb Putra, uncovers a little-known yet profound episode of migration, coexistence, and cultural resilience on the island of Borneo.

The story begins in the early 18th century

The story begins in the early 18th century. Hakka migrants, fleeing war, famine, and political turmoil in southern China, braved the treacherous waters of the Kapuas River aboard bamboo rafts. 

Led by the intrepid Ben Teng Thua, they landed on what was then uninhabited jungle along the riverbanks and named the place Siang-ngau, today’s Sanggau. 

From the humblest of beginnings, with nothing more than tents and hope, they built a community that would eventually give birth to what is now the Tridharma Temple on Jalan Kartini, a living testament to their faith and endurance.

But this is not merely a tale of pioneering settlers. Masri paints a layered portrait of Sanggau’s historical landscape, one that includes not only the Hakka diaspora but also the indigenous Dayak communities and the Senganan, Muslim Dayaks who shared the land. Through meticulous research and an archive of oral histories, he introduces readers to a wide cast of historical figures: Ben Teng Thua, Kwee Seng Ong, Liu Shan, Tong Guan, Loh Tian Hui, Acin, Alin, Akim, Ben Theng, and Kitono, who stood side by side with local leaders such as Daranante, Babai Cinga, Macan Gaing, and Panglima Kumbang.

Their lives intersect in a complex, often volatile tapestry, marked by trade, kinship, conflict, and ultimately, accommodation. The book offers a rare look into how cultural bridges were built, not without difficulty, but with resilience and mutual recognition. 

Masri does not shy away from the darker turns of history either. He details the 1967 anti-Chinese violence, prompted by discriminatory policies like Presidential Instruction No. 14/1967 and Government Regulation No. 10/1959. These measures forced thousands of Chinese Indonesians, including the Hakka of Sanggau, to flee their homes. Tragically, the Dayak people, once mobilized by the state for political ends, also became victims of the same mechanisms of exclusion.

A Living Museum on the Kapuas

For lovers of history, culture, and forgotten stories, this book is more than just a compelling read, it is a passport into the soul of Sanggau. The Tridharma Temple, still active today, stands on the exact spot where the Hakka once set up their first riverside shelters. The Kampung Tionghoa gate, a more recent symbol of pride and memory, welcomes visitors to a neighborhood that echoes with generations of layered heritage. Streets, shop houses, and marketplaces become silent storytellers of faith, struggle, and coexistence.

Masri Sareb Putra’s novel is not merely historical fiction, it is an act of remembrance, a scholarly yet empathetic bridge between the past and present. It reminds us that migration is not only a journey across geography, but also across identity, memory, and meaning.

As Cicero once said, “Historia vero testis temporum”, history is the witness of time. This book is one such witness, evocative, truthful, and deeply human.

-- Anna Wang