double digits

I escorted my grandma back to her house in Bunut Susu and got back from my kampong only yesterday. It’s been quite a while since my last time there-a decade or so if I’m not mistaken-and needless to say the trip brought back sweet memories of mine. Amongst my siblings I think I spent the most time there since my mother could not stand my behavior when I was a kid and sent me to my grandparents when I was five. It was a blast. A year or so later when I’m back home again with my parents I can’t speak proper Malay (Bunut Susu is in Pasir Mas, Kelantan, not the UK or Italy, although some might think Kelantan is in Germany, for whatever reasons). Oh and by the way, my kampong is Kampong Apa-apa (direct translation: Whatever Village. How cool is that?).

As it is with most kampongs, the folks in Kampong Apa-apa are mostly related to each other. And every face is familiar and the birth of every child is celebrated. During my recent trip I went for tarawih at the madrasah there and people were asking questions like “anok Zakiah dok?” (Zakiah’s son, isn’t it?), their eyes lighting up when they uttered my mother’s name, telling me they still remembered every moment of my mother being there; born and raised, and how happy they were when she ran to them telling what happened at ‘school’, hands clutching buah keranji and face littered with dirt. Until my recent visit, buah keranji is still the favorite snack for primary schoolchildren. But they no longer come in perahus (sorry I just can't resist that one. Heh, heh).

The sun rises early in Kampong Apa-apa. The heat would start to rise at ten in the morning till about 4 p.m. My grandma’s house is devoid of ceilings and I, bless my metabolism, would sweat like my sweat pores had been forced open and had to spill something out. I was constantly in a damp mode you won’t need those small yellow papers if you want to stick some notes on me (not that anyone would want to).

I like my grandma’s bathroom best. The bathroom is roofless. And I don’t think anyone would be interested in seeing me bathing, so it’s like way cool. Too bad the well there is no longer in use. Water from the well used to be so cold when I was a kid every time my mother ordered me to bathe before 8 in the morning I would be convinced that I’m a stepson and she’s purposefully trying to torture me :)

Too bad my camera wasn’t with me in my last trip. But the pictures in my head remain, the way they always do. I got home at about 6 a.m. yesterday and got a call from my grandma to ensure I’ve arrived home safely. How sweet can a seventy-something woman be?

oh and by the way, this is my tenth post. WHOOPEE!! needful unhelpful things goes double digits.