Balik Kampung
It was the time for the exodus again! Not because the Sun would not rise from the East, nor because of an impending hurricane. But because the new Syawal moon was coming out in a day or two.
I made my northward journey together with my family on Sunday before Raya starting from Kajang around midday. I had not visited the kampung for almost 8 months. The last time I was back in Pasir Mas was in February for my aunt’s funeral. That visit was unplanned and was a very brief one.
The journey from KL to Pahang was surprisingly smooth despite the fact that thousands of vehicles were using the trunk road going through Bentong, Raub, Kuala Lipis and Gua Musang. The new road from Raub to Kuala Lipis cuts the distance by more than 30 km and straightens what used to be winding tracks and dangerous curves along the way. More needs to be done to improve its notorious safety record but for now we just need to take more care.
Along the way, perhaps because of fasting, everyone else fell asleep. I kept to the speed limit rolling up and down the hills of interior Pahang while listening to the radio and some podcasts I had downloaded from the Internet. This year Raya falls in the middle of the week giving people more time to make their journey home. There were no accidents or long queues along the road unlike in previous years when everyone had to rush home only one or two days before Raya. I saw Raya greetings from politicians from both sides at strategic junctions in towns along the way. This is the time to show to the people that they care. In Pasir Mas, our own independent MP, the maverick Datuk Ibrahim Ali, back in the lime light after winning the March 8 elections on a Pas ticket, had put up banners at the entrances of mosques in the town affirming his rise and fall with his people (“Jatuh Bangun Bersama Rakyat”). I am quite sure I can get one or two pieces of 50 ringgit notes if I go to his open house. I was told he is a very rich man.
The early break I took gave me some time to spend the last days of Ramadhan in the kampung. I have always enjoyed Kelantanese kuih for its sweet taste but this time I was shocked to find that the price of my favourite Kuih Akok had gone up to KL level just because of the influx of cash-rich city folks coming back for the big day. I did communicate with her in Kelantan-speak but it did not help. May be she knew that I was not one of her regular customers and that it would be fine if I did not buy her kuih next time. Makes me think that when it comes to money, folks in this Ulamak-ruled state are anything but generous! Pak Lah’s gesture in reducing fuel price just before Raya and his plea for traders to bring down goods prices did not seem to work. The often repeated phrase - what goes up must come down – simply does not apply here.
I spent the first day of Raya visiting relatives in the kampung. I only get a chance like this every other year as my nurse wife has to work on alternate Raya. Hospitals always seem to be busier during festive seasons! I took the opportunity to see cousins, uncles and aunties. The eve of Raya was the time to pay my dues in the form of zakat. Four of my young cousins have just lost their mother, four years after losing their father. They are now orphans and in need of monetary support from the extended family. I thought growing up with divorced parents was tough for me. Difficult to imagine that the four of them have lost both parents at such a young age. I remember how happy I was as a child wearing new clothes during Raya, going round from house to house playing firecrackers. I wanted to make sure that they too enjoy the same experience in their childhood.
On the second day of Raya I paid a visit to the graves of my mother, grandmother and father, the three most important people in my life. Their graves lay silent waiting for visits from their children and grandchildren. It was late afternoon and nobody else was around. The quietness seemed to understand the sadness of their loss many years ago. I cleared some weeds that had grown wild since I visited the place last Raya Haji. I read some verses from the Quran and spread out my hands while utterring some doa. After so many years, the sadness of their loss is now bearable. It was almost maghrib time and I had to leave. I looked back at the graves as I took my steps out of the graveyard area. I could not help but feel very sad again as I was leaving them behind. It will probably be another year when I come and visit them again. But this I’ll always remember. I may be working in the tallest buildings in the world, but I'll never forget my roots are here. You people were the ones that made it all possible.
