nonseng

Sydney / 2008

Much to my dismay, people are still in town. There I was, confident of leaving the office at 6.30pm in an attempt to reach home by 6.45pm, sitting in a traffic jam in front of Berjaya Times Square. I looked around to find other disgruntled people, all looking as if they were fooled by the 'KL will be empty for Raya' belief.

I say it's just an urban myth. Pfftt.

MokcikNab, one of my favourite Malaysian storyteller, says that her husband's ideal Raya is to have a deserted KL, which he thinks "it's good to have Kuala Lumpur back to yourself again." I absolutely agree with him, particularly when my Raya celebration is starting to shift to KL. But it wasn't always in the city. Just like MokcikNab, I, too, have fond memories of Raya in kampung.

But with age (as if so old lah but I mean, we're talking when I was 7 or something), I can only remember some striking images of my kampung:

The Volvo Wagon driven up and down Karak Highway's winding roads, where the view was filled with lush green trees (this idea of a view later became an interesting perspective for my photography, which I'll explain another time). The 2 houses, both maternal and paternal grandparents' houses, were separated by a fence. One had dark corridors and an attic, the other had green cement floor and kekabu mattresses. Despite the differences both had one thing in common: "Myra tidur mana?". I remember the young watching tv, the women baking, the kids playing. Bunga api (cap Black Cat or Thunder Cat? I forget), mercun ular, ayam, katak and lebah. The flurried Raya eve would end with everyone camping out in the living room, grouping either according to family or geng (peers lah).

I don't remember what happened afterwards on Raya day except receiving duit raya and lining up to take the Raya photograph (also grouped according to intermediate family, siblings and cousins).

Point is, with all this recollecting memories and being nostalgic and all, Raya celebration is always shifting. People grow older, cookies are manufactured, duit raya gets less, unrecognizable relatives coming up to ask, "kenal tak siapa? awok ingat tak siapa?", etc. Without anchors, I suppose it gets less communal and less in your face. I don't know. I'm not complaining. I'm not complaining about the shifts because I've had my Raya di kampung experience. I don't remember much but I know how great it felt.

I guess I'm wondering what kind of Raya my nephew and niece will remember.

Oh well.

Selamat Hari Raya! Have a safe one & maaf zahir batin :D

Listening to: Mabuk Gusti by Slamet Gundono