Clock ticking as Kg Jimpangah folks rush to vacate before Sunday deadline  

WITH just days left before the eviction deadline, families who resided in Kampung Jimpangah in Beaufort are rushing to pack belongings, salvaging whatever they could or sell to cover the cost of their relocation. 

A court order obtained by the private landowner has given 53 households until this Sunday to vacate the 12.14-acre land.

But it turns out 19 of the households say they’ve been told they can stay — for now.

Their homes remain standing, untouched by demolition crews. 

The reason, according to several residents, is simple: they chose not to resist.

“We didn’t fight,” said Salmah (not her real name), a 42-year-old mother whose house remains intact. 

“We didn’t question or challenge the landowner. We just said, if there’s a way to stay, we’re willing to buy the land.”

In 2023, when the landowner first visited the village, he offered to sell lots at RM10 per square foot. 

Some families agreed in principle, but the plan was later scrapped — reportedly after several villagers demanded proof of ownership and challenged his claim.

The landowner may have seen their reaction as confrontational. 

“We asked to see the land title. He refused. When we pressed him, things got tense,” said Rynnalto Elsther Peter, 38, who led a committee opposing the eviction. “Then came the court order.”

The result is a village divided. Those who avoided confrontation have not been asked to leave. Those who pushed back are now moving out.

But even those spared from eviction are unsure what comes next.

“There’s no black and white. He hasn’t told us to leave, but he hasn’t said we can stay forever,” Salmah said. “We’re not sleeping well. We don’t know if we’ll be next.”

For the rest, the eviction is already underway.

‘This was our home for 40 years’

Egbertus Stanislaus, 77, said his family first settled here in the 1970s, when the area was part of a rubber estate. 

“We built our home near my in-laws. It was a proper kampung — we had roads, water, electricity.”

“We thought this land would eventually be gazetted. That never happened.”

Edward Pengang, 58, who moved in after losing land across the river in 2001, said this was the second time he was forced to start over. 

“We found a rental nearby, but it’s RM800 a month. I do odd jobs — I can’t afford that on my own.”

He said he rented a lorry to move all his furniture this week and offered to sell the timber stilts of his home to cover the cost of relocation. 

“Everything is packed. I don’t even know if the new place is permanent.”

The 34 evicted households are now scattered — some moving in with relatives, others scrambling for temporary housing in town.

The land on which Kampung Jimpangah sits was first issued as a Country Lease on March 14, 1911. 

Located some 98 kilometres from Kota Kinabalu, the land had passed through several private and corporate owners over the decades. 

In 1995, it was listed under Woordford Estate Beaufort when an application to convert the land into a native housing reserve — a process that never advanced.

Between the 1960s and 2017, the land changed hands multiple times through memorandums of transfer. 

In 2023, it was formally transferred to the current private owner, who then pursued legal action to reclaim possession on May 21. 

While the village has existed for decades — with piped water, electricity, and paved roads — it was never formally gazetted as a Native Residential Reserve, despite recommendations made by the Beaufort District Office in 2000. 

Without a Native Title, residents had no legal protection

Legal experts say the owner was within his rights to enforce the court order.

“It’s a private land title. The law is clear,” said one land officer familiar with the case.

Sabah has seen a growing number of evictions since 2020, many involving state-backed redevelopment projects or security operations. 

But Kampung Jimpangah is different — a rare case of private land enforcement dividing a single village into those who must go and those who may stay.

As Sunday’s deadline approaches, the lines are drawn. Some are already gone. 

Others are loading their final belongings into lorries. And a few, like Salmah, are still waiting — for what exactly, no one knows.

“We didn’t raise our voices. But silence doesn’t mean assurance,” she said. - May 22, 2025