My memories of the 50s.

I have fond memories of what I did with my grandfather when I was brought up in the kampong. The grand old man used to tag me along even though my grandmother sometimes forbids him. My grandfather molded my character early in life and taught me the basics.

I sat on the old bicycle carrier and my grandfather cycled slowly to the Surau for the Maghreb and Isyakh prayer. Sometimes I dozed off when the Ustaz preaching got too lengthy for me to bear.

In the evening my grandfather and I planted two or three fish traps “lukah” at allocated spots in the river. This was when I learnt how to swim with his supervision. When the current was swift, I walked upstream along the bank and then I floated diagonally to reach the other end. The best time when we picked the “lukah” early the next morning and I would be excited to see the catch. The process had to be done carefully as sometimes snakes were also trapped. My grandfather disallowed me from handling the fishes as some species had poisonous stings.

After a downpour, the old man would take his “jala” to the river and tried our luck. There were plenty of fishes swimming about after every downpour. I would tie a small basket at my waist, collected the catch and trotted along the river with the basket immersed in water of which the catch would remain alive. Once I accidentally stepped on bamboo shrapnel and my grandmother shelled at my grandfather.

During durian season, I accompanied my grandfather at the “dusun” and we stayed in silted makeshift hut, we call “dangau”. To chase away the mosquitoes, I collected dead branches and leaves to start a bonfire. It was a beautiful sound when the durian dropped at night. My grandfather used the torchlight and collected the durian immediately. He disallowed me to follow him and he scared me that tigers love to eat fresh durians. I smiled when my grandfather was away and someone came to buy durians. I turned Towkay and kept the return to myself. Those days we were talking only 20, 30 or 50 cents per fruit. Sometimes I just donated it free especially when my playmates came around. I would always remember this incident when my grandfather applied simple psychology and logic to me. He asked me to take a bamboo pole and start hitting the durian tree. He narrated to me the fruits would be tastier and nice. Like an idiot, I started whacking the durian trees like crazy until the bamboo splinted. Later I realized, by doing that I would chased away all the squirrels and of course the durian fruits would be nice and perfect. Up to this date when I see a durian fruit, the memories of the old man appears. I got played out but a lesson learnt. Simple reverse psychology and I applied it when I became Boss in Guthrie.

During the green pigeon season he would take his shot gun and brought me along with him. We would wait at the right spot, the flight path of the green pigeons or the particular tree where the pigeons normally seek shelter. Once the shot was fired, I was the hunting dog to collect the victims. I would carry along a “tudung saji” because the pallets from the shotgun may hit five or six birds at a single shot. I ran back to my grandfather where he slaughtered them.

I love the time when someone from big town wanted to buy bamboo poles. My grandfather cut down the bamboo, tied them together as a raft and taken upstream to the main road where the lorry could collect them. I would hitch a ride on the raft. When the water was shallow, I helped to push or pull but when the water getting deeper I jumped on the bamboo raft for a free and safe ride. Few other kids of my age would come along and we enjoyed the rafting expedition.

My grandfather disallowed me to play top with nails. It was dangerous. He made me a nail less top instead and we call it “gasing kepala”. It spins all right but I could not join the other kids playing the usual top with nail. Hitting an opponent top and split it open was not my kind of game, forbidden by my grandfather. I think he was absolutely right for it was not ethical to destroy someone property. My grandfather made me a kite as well as elastic. The elastic was only to be used to scare away animals not to harm them. My grandfather was very strict on this. During the month of Ramadan he would find a thick bamboo, strapped it with steel wires, bought fifty cents worth of carbide and allowed me to play bamboo canon. He was never far away watching me exploding the environment. All the animals would run helter shelter. It was real fun during the loud boom and I could hear my grandmother’s voice yelling from the house.

During the hot season, my grandparents would open up a farm across the river and planted maize and tapioca. The river water was the source of watering and during this time the water was shallow enough to walk across. I helped to water the farm and took the opportunity to dip myself into the river. I love to barbeque matured maize and it was very sweet and tasty. We made flour out of the tapioca and turned into several “kuihs”.

The only fruit trees my grandfather allowed me to climb were mangos teen tree. This tree got a lot of branches and I could cling to them easily, however it was strictly forbidden to climb after the rainfall. The branches became very slippery.

When I was a small kid, I hated cats and sometimes I just threw them down over the window to the ground. My grandfather would yell at me and I told him the cat would not die anyway. Whatever, I should not do that to other living things. Allah forbids.

My two children would not believe what I went through when I was a kid and they would be nowhere near the experiences I had. Turning back the clock, I would not regret going through the same.