Connecting people through art 

The film displays an internal conversation of uncertainty, doubt and resistance based on the perspective of faith and tradition with one's self.

A year ago, my father’s side of the family organised a Mongukas ceremony.

This is an event where we pay respect to relatives who have passed. The highlight of the ceremony is sacrificing a bull where the meat is feasted on by the living family members and the head of the bull is sent to the grave as an offering for the relatives who have passed.

The ceremony was filled with warmth as we reconnected with family members. From morning to dawn, we prepared the bull for everyone to feast on. As we were preparing, I noticed that the bull’s head was left under a tree. It was still bleeding, and the smell was very foul. I asked my parents why it was still there, and asked why it  hadn’t been sent to the grave for  our relatives who had passed? They answered, ‘We don’t do that anymore, that is satanic’ and added, ‘Someone wanted to do the ritual, but we stopped them’. I felt uncomfortable, but kept silent as it wasn’t my place to say anything. The ceremony started and everyone was having a very good time. There was dancing, laughing,  even karaoke and everyone was having the time of their lives. As we  enjoyed our time together, the bull’s head was still under the tree, unbothered. It was just there, staring at us. I can’t get the image out of my head. I felt as if we were forgetting the purpose of the ceremony. We were forgetting the purpose behind what we had gathered for. I was also angry with myself that I couldn't do anything, I couldn’t counter what my parents had said, and I had no knowledge of my own tradition to do the ritual myself.

Before my grandmother passed, she told us ‘When I die, my spirit will live forever in Mount Kinabalu’. Her spirit was magical.

As much as I am regretful that I am slowly drifting away from my culture, I am more sorrowful that I am slowly forgetting the spirit of my grandmother.