Last week, we visited grandma (Mak Wan) at his kampung, my better half. Wasn't my first time being there, but saw it in a different light nevertheless as we get to spend a longer time. Brought along the kid brother. Who too, found consolation from the place. The city boy. Grew up knowing very little about living in a village just like his elder sister. Whom only once in a blue moon gets a taste of the kampung ambiance when he was still so young.
We had a kampung. Our great grandmother's (Tok Nek). Whom we only visited if and when we pass by the house to or from my hometown when travelling, when she was still around. She passed away when i was 14. My brother was then still at the tender age of 6. The large compound, the wooden house, the trees, the breeze of Mak Wan's house took us back down memory lane. He can still remember the house quite vividly. Where the great grandmother spends the last years of her life. Mostly alone. The house was built far off from the gate, a row of rambutan trees would welcome each visitor from both sides of the road leading to the house. It has the old fundamental wooden structure in the middle, sandwiched between the concrete extensions of the living room and the kitchen area after remodelling. On the side, lies a large porch with curved arches, where we normally would sit to enjoy the kampung breeze and listen to the sound of crickets singing in accord. There, we would also play games and run from one end to another to prove who was the fastest and gave out lame reasons to justify our losses in giggles, but at all times refraining our eyes from even the slightest gaze at the small gate where you could gain access to the dark area under the old wooden stretch. At the back of the house was a massive land area with many rubber trees.
He remembered how we used to walk (and sometimes run) as fast as we could from the kitchen area to the living room at the front, passing the cold, dark wooden part of the house, never dare turning our heads or even the corner of our eyes towards the old rooms for it was very gloomy and never once fail to give us the chills. We would visit only these 2 concrete parts of the house for afraid of any unwanted encounter. Though none of us really ever did.
She (the great grandmother) would only stay at the kitchen area, where a room and a small bath was built specially for her to better access the kitchen for meals as she wouldn't want to leave her home. She was always very quiet, the great grandmother. Sitting on the wooden dining chair unspoken, looking pale but pleased with our visit, every time. Clad in small floral prints cotton baju kurung and batik sarong, as she normally would, a small bun always neatly set on her long, gray hair. A warm smile would draw on her small face, exposing fine lines that had gathered from her 90 years whenever dad or any of us uttered something that amuses her. I wish i had a photo of her and her house too, for the house are no longer there, replaced by a factory after she was long gone, but i don't. I did not know her well. What more my younger brother. All i have is this remaining memory of how she used to look like and what used to be there that soon will fade as time passes by. But with this entry, perhaps it could help me remember how it all used to look like once again, when that day comes.
Today, at her age of 89, Mak Wan's house is still very much alive and well taken care of for she stays with 2 of her children. Sometimes 3. Though old, the house is far from a state of dreary. Unlike aruah Tok Nek's. Even though she can now barely stand up, the house is still as lively as can be. Each room are filled with bright sunlight, the sound of the tv surrounding the living area, the kitchen, busy with sounds of the frying of keropok and the clanking of cups and dishes, and the trees are still green and bear delicious fruits each year. Near the house, within the large compound sits another wooden shack now used to keep old, unused stuff. An old well that is no longer in use are a few steps away from the main entrance to the house.
That day, we relived the memory of aruah Tok Nek's house, ate juicy fruits, even plucked them ourselves and get to bring home some too, rode on the bike (which once belong to my hubby), had keropok, hand picked bunga kantan, in short, had great fun. That day, i took the opportunity to photograph the only kampung i have left. And today, i shall have the privilege of sharing them with you.
We had a kampung. Our great grandmother's (Tok Nek). Whom we only visited if and when we pass by the house to or from my hometown when travelling, when she was still around. She passed away when i was 14. My brother was then still at the tender age of 6. The large compound, the wooden house, the trees, the breeze of Mak Wan's house took us back down memory lane. He can still remember the house quite vividly. Where the great grandmother spends the last years of her life. Mostly alone. The house was built far off from the gate, a row of rambutan trees would welcome each visitor from both sides of the road leading to the house. It has the old fundamental wooden structure in the middle, sandwiched between the concrete extensions of the living room and the kitchen area after remodelling. On the side, lies a large porch with curved arches, where we normally would sit to enjoy the kampung breeze and listen to the sound of crickets singing in accord. There, we would also play games and run from one end to another to prove who was the fastest and gave out lame reasons to justify our losses in giggles, but at all times refraining our eyes from even the slightest gaze at the small gate where you could gain access to the dark area under the old wooden stretch. At the back of the house was a massive land area with many rubber trees.
He remembered how we used to walk (and sometimes run) as fast as we could from the kitchen area to the living room at the front, passing the cold, dark wooden part of the house, never dare turning our heads or even the corner of our eyes towards the old rooms for it was very gloomy and never once fail to give us the chills. We would visit only these 2 concrete parts of the house for afraid of any unwanted encounter. Though none of us really ever did.
She (the great grandmother) would only stay at the kitchen area, where a room and a small bath was built specially for her to better access the kitchen for meals as she wouldn't want to leave her home. She was always very quiet, the great grandmother. Sitting on the wooden dining chair unspoken, looking pale but pleased with our visit, every time. Clad in small floral prints cotton baju kurung and batik sarong, as she normally would, a small bun always neatly set on her long, gray hair. A warm smile would draw on her small face, exposing fine lines that had gathered from her 90 years whenever dad or any of us uttered something that amuses her. I wish i had a photo of her and her house too, for the house are no longer there, replaced by a factory after she was long gone, but i don't. I did not know her well. What more my younger brother. All i have is this remaining memory of how she used to look like and what used to be there that soon will fade as time passes by. But with this entry, perhaps it could help me remember how it all used to look like once again, when that day comes.
Today, at her age of 89, Mak Wan's house is still very much alive and well taken care of for she stays with 2 of her children. Sometimes 3. Though old, the house is far from a state of dreary. Unlike aruah Tok Nek's. Even though she can now barely stand up, the house is still as lively as can be. Each room are filled with bright sunlight, the sound of the tv surrounding the living area, the kitchen, busy with sounds of the frying of keropok and the clanking of cups and dishes, and the trees are still green and bear delicious fruits each year. Near the house, within the large compound sits another wooden shack now used to keep old, unused stuff. An old well that is no longer in use are a few steps away from the main entrance to the house.
That day, we relived the memory of aruah Tok Nek's house, ate juicy fruits, even plucked them ourselves and get to bring home some too, rode on the bike (which once belong to my hubby), had keropok, hand picked bunga kantan, in short, had great fun. That day, i took the opportunity to photograph the only kampung i have left. And today, i shall have the privilege of sharing them with you.
from private grounds
2 guys savouring on durian kampung
city boy wandering around
the boy and his kampung
boys on truck
the bike and its proud previous owner
his favourite pastime before he could legally get his hands dirty on car engines
the gleeful brother on the 17 year old bike
old well
lovely window
Mak Wan in the living room
checking out the old shack
the kitchen
this is how you do it, she says..
a skill i picked up on the day trip..
menjolok buah manggis - for the first time in my life:here's a bag-full of the crap.. i mean crop.. heh
another thing i handpicked and get to bring home for asam pedas and tom yam!
goodies
one for the album(kindly excuse our selekehness.. hehe)
6 comments:
cantik lagi rumah kampung tu. kata mana ni? sure rasa best je kat sana. my grandma's place was a rumah kg in the heart of alor star town tapi since she left the world, i don't know whatever happen to the house. stimes i miss her, the house, childhood memories and alor star.
This is at kuala pilah. best la.. lama x rasa the kampung environment.
Dulu2 mana merasa ni semua. Kalau singgah rumah my late great granma pun takde la dapat amik2 buah. Setakat dapat keladi from one of the uncles (sedara jauh yg duk dkt ngn aruah)hehe.
Tapi rumah my granma yg smacked in the middle of jb town tu byk pokok buah.. but takde suasana kampung la.
dah agak sure swhere in ns. nice tho.
my kg same la like yours. tp mine takde apa. yg ada cuma pegaga growing wildly hahaha
Hahaha.. that's funny.
My "kg" pun tak lama lagi takde la.. The gramps are selling the place ;(
now u making me miss my gramma...
everybody needs some missing sometimes ;)
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