In Borneo, the art of bubu (fish trap) making is more than an essential skill – it’s centuries of cultural heritage passed down through generations. From 2025, you can hear more about it and get hands-on with a new bubu-making cultural experience on the Sabah Adventure.
When you grow up with the Kinabatangan, the largest river in the Sabah, as your backyard, you have a story or two in your pocket. Nelson Deocampo has plenty. The river stretches over 560 kilometres (348 miles) and is a lifeline for wildlife and communities. Its ever-changing rhythms and moods leave an indelible mark on those who call its banks home.
Originally from Tawau, Nelson moved to the riverside village of Bilit, just 2.5 hours from Sandakan, when he was 17. He started working in tourism with his uncle. Together, they hosted travellers at a small, remote lodge in the jungle.
‘When I arrived, there was no road to Bilit, so we had to walk from the junction and carry our stuff. Me and my uncle hosted guests at a small place in the jungle, but it was very basic. We had no electricity – we just used a kerosine lamp,’ he says.
These days, Nelson is a wildlife warden and manager of Bilit Adventure Lodge – a different lodge close to where he first started working with his uncle.
Nelson has been a long-time friend of Intrepid thanks to the company’s small group adventures to Bilit Adventure Lodge over the years. He tells me he has been buddies with a leader, Felix, since Felix’s very first Intrepid trip over ten years ago.
Nelson’s stories date back over 30 years before tourism in Sabah was as established as it is today. Back then, Nelson says travellers were few and far between, and the river provided a source of income between visits.
‘When there’s no travellers, we go fishing. We do the casting net, we make the bubu traps and then we get the income, and that’s the way we get food,’ he says. ‘We go to the jungle, find the big rattan, then find the small rattan to make the fish trap,’ he explains. To make bubu traps, you must first find the right kind of rattan. Different size vines serve different purposes for constructing the trap, depending on their strength and flexibility.
Nelson adds that it’s a community experience and families dotted along the river each have their own bubu and boat. ‘We just see each other upstream, and we always say hi. We all know each other, and I know the waters like the back of my hands.’
But how does a bubu actually work?
Each bubu trap, approximately 1.5 metres (5 feet) long, is carefully crafted and woven to lure and capture fish using the river’s current. If you’re looking at a big bubu, the one Nelson describes as the ‘rocket-style’ one, the secret is all about using the current to get the fish.
Nelson holds the large bubu with outstretched arms and moves his whole body from side to side as he describes the current’s movement and explains how the current needs to flow into the bubu’s mouth. To help with this, a bamboo screen is positioned next to the trap and acts like a fin to guide the fish right into it. ‘Once they go in, they can’t come out. Because we have a special door for them in the bubu when they go in, they’re in there for good,’ he says.
As for the secret to making the perfect bubu? Keep it straight. Nelson laughs as he holds up a recent bubu he made – it looks sturdy and straight to me, but he’s being self-deprecating about it. He says straightness is the secret to correctly using the current and river flow. Well, that and skilled hands to bend and manipulate the stiff rattan to create the right shape.
A change in materials over time
Nelson shows me the difference in materials between the traps – a towering wooden structure for fish and a smaller, plastic one for prawns. The smaller prawn traps traditionally required the skin of trees to cover the outer frame but this has since been replaced with a durable plastic netting, a change Nelson says was a shift in the community’s approach to conserving and caring for the environment.
‘When you take the tree down and take the skin off, you kill the tree, so we don’t want to do that anymore. But we love the trees, and we changed to use a plastic net and a plastic skin to put bait inside,’ he says. ‘It’s good for the trees and us not making all the time.’
As he points up and down the riverbank, he explains how each family has an area for fishing. ‘Normally, each family has over ten fish traps, and we have our own territory. That corner is mine, and another one is my friends, and normally, we’re all fishing all night.’
The need for bubus over the years
Sabah’s population is made up of 33 ethnic groups, and the Orang Sungai – which means River People in Malay – is one of the ethnic groups that live on the Kinabatangan River. Today, Nelson tells me that River People is a collective term for those living along the interior river valleys and is an identity to which Nelson is culturally connected.
In years past, life in Bilit revolved around the river. Using hand-crafted bubu traps, fishermen like Nelson thrived off the river’s bounty, selling their catch to buyers who navigated the almost non-existent roads from Sandakan twice weekly to purchase fresh fish and prawns.
The people of Bilit today still embrace bubu-making to preserve their cultural identity and history. Once the mainstay of their livelihoods before tourism, these intricately woven traps are essential tools for fishing and prawn catching along the Kinabatangan.
As we cruise up and down the river, I can see tall sticks standing upright in the water along the bank – marking the location of the traps with a recycled plastic bottle tied to the top. Today, it’s just as much a way to ensure traditions endure as it is a way of providing livelihood on the side.
Weaving stories
Nelson was 19 when his relatives taught him how to make his first bubu. He says he still can’t compete with the quality of their bubus because theirs are bigger, straighter and taller, but he’s proudly been a river fisherman for most of his life.
I ask Nelson about his earliest memories of making bubus in his teens, and he immediately points to his foot to show a big scar. ‘I still have this cut on my foot, see here, from one of my first bubus. A big knife fell on my foot, and I thought it was going to be damaged. But now, I am very experienced in making bubus,’ he laughs.
Connection to culture is everything to Nelson. In 2025, Intrepid travellers on the Sabah Adventure will have the chance to hear more of Nelson’s stories while learning about bubu making and the traditions behind it.
Nelson says, ‘I’m really ready for it. I will tell them: I feel this, I have felt this culture for years, and I’m a fisherman of the Kinabatangan River. I’ll teach my people and children, too, they’re all river fishermen like me, so they can do it.’
Discover this new experience on Intrepid’s Sabah Adventure in 2025. Find out what else is new for 2025 with The Goods.
