By Marina Aman Sham, Senior Communications Manager, Sabah Landscapes Programme, WWF-Malaysia

International Women’s Day had already passed when I arrived in Teburi, but nothing about the gathering felt late. The women had chosen their own moment, and it felt right. In a community hall warmed by chatter and shared food, women from the village came together not to mark a date on the calendar, but to celebrate each other—openly, confidently, on their own terms. I was there as an invited guest, listening more than speaking, watching how the space filled with laughter, stories, and a quiet sense of pride. It was a celebration that didn’t need a fixed day to matter.

What stayed with me most was the openness with which the women shared their lives. Two women, Puan Rebecca and Puan Justina, spoke simply about their daily routines: caring for children and elders, tending to household work, and supporting their families through farming and small enterprises. There was no attempt to dramatise their responsibilities—just an honest accounting of what it takes to keep a household, and a community, going.

“From morning until night, there is always something to do—but we do it for our families,” one of the women shared, drawing nods of recognition from around the hall. It struck me how rarely these voices are centred in public conversations, even though they form the backbone of village life. Sitting there, my role was to listen and learn, not to interpret. Their strength spoke for itself.

Puan Justina speaks during the sharing session, reflecting on the everyday responsibilities that shape life in Teburi. ©zenwuak/WWF-Malaysia

The celebration soon moved into a different kind of expression, without losing its meaning. Ten women came together in a traditional food showcase, each dish a reflection of skill, memory, and care. The atmosphere was attentive and marked by shared pride—friendly teasing, careful plating, and deliberate attention to each dish. Many of the ingredients were grown locally, cultivated in landscapes shaped by both farming and forest. These were recipes learned over years, often passed down through generations, and prepared not just to impress judges but to be shared. Food, in that moment, became a language of identity—one that connected family, land, and culture.

The sharing also took poetic form. Pantun—local poems rooted in oral tradition—were recited during the gathering, weaving humour, advice, and reflections drawn from everyday life into the space. The verses prompted smiles and quiet appreciation, adding rhythm and depth to the celebration.

Dulu-dulu tanam koko
Zaman berubah berganti sawit
Apa khabar ulun kito
Halo semuanya cantik pewitttt....

Harley Davidson motor idaman
Irama santai jadi pilihan
Hari wanita kita raikan
Mengenang jasa ibu-ibu yang rupawan...

Baju Igut Baju Lapik
Baju tradisi Dusun Begak
Hati wanita mudah terusik
Pujuknya susah walaupun berlawak...

Tungku ke LD membeli belanja
Meredah jalan macam di bulan
Kasih ayah tidak terhingga
Kasih ibu tiada tandingan...

Hari-hari turun ke ladang
Mencari rezeki itulah ketentuan
Sekian coretan pantun didendang
Jumpa lagi di lain kesempatan

~ A poem by Puan Mimi reflecting changing rural livelihoods, cultural traditions, and everyday life, while honouring women, parents, and the enduring values of community.

Prepared by one of the women of Kampung Teburi, this traditional siput masak santan dish reflects culinary skill, lived memory, and pride woven into everyday life. ©zenwuak/WWF-Malaysia

Traditional dress and weaving added another layer to the stories being shared. Women from the Dusun Begak community gathered in richly patterned outfits, first indoors and later outdoors for photographs, where the textures and colours caught the afternoon light. As they spoke about their clothes, it became clear that each piece represented hours—sometimes days—of patient work.

Threads were not chosen at random; patterns held meaning about where they came from and who they are. “Every pattern has meaning—it tells where we come from,” one woman explained. Watching them stand together, I was struck by how clothing can hold history, skill, and identity all at once.

Women from the Dusun Begak community of Teburi stand together in traditional attire, each garment carrying heritage, artistry and stories passed through generations. ©zenwuak/WWF-Malaysia

This sense of connection—to culture, to each other, to place—cannot be separated from the landscape the women of Teburi live with every day. Many are smallholders whose farms sit close to forest edges, where elephants still move through as they have for generations. These are not abstract conservation stories. Elephants sometimes pass through farms, occasionally damaging crops, creating real challenges for families. The women spoke about this matter-of-factly, as part of life. They are not spectators to environmental issues in their village; they are decision-makers. When women are recognised and empowered, they are more confident to act—working together, and with partners such as NGOs, when issues arise. This is where conservation becomes inclusive: rooted in relationships, shaped by lived experience, and strengthened by collective voices.

In the hall, the women of Teburi sit together—smiling, relaxed, and at ease. ©zenwuak/WWF-Malaysia

As the day drew to a close, the importance of the gathering in Teburi was clear—shaped by the women who shared their stories and supported by WWF Malaysia’s ongoing work to engage communities meaningfully. Set within the wider Tabin landscape, the celebration mattered not because of a date on the calendar, but because it created space for women to be seen, heard, and valued beyond any single activity or outcome. It served as a reminder that conservation is strengthened through people and relationships, and that International Women’s Day lives on in moments like this—when women come together to celebrate identity, strength, and collective voice.