One Moment in Time

Circa 1966-7, I would think.

But what one earth were we watching or doing?

Or were we just acting at the behest of the photographer aka our dad?

God knows, I would not know. The photographer is long gone. We were too young to know or remember anything. But I believe the location is Batu Gajah, and it must be the bedroom.

Anyway...

My bro and I

My eldest sister - on the right, and her unidentified companion

Old Paintings by Othmansor

These paintings were left to the elements behind the bedroom door at our Taiping home, and has been with the family since 1970. According to MCKam, the artist painted them in 1968, when he was a bachelor and a teacher. Almarhum Othman Mansor was one talented artist who in 1980 was even sent to the States to study art.

These painting were given to bapak, during one of our visit to his studio home in Assam Kumbang, immediately after he married her in 1970. Almarhum offered one of the paintings for bapak to choose, but bapak could not choose one over the other; so instead Almarhum generously gave both of them away to him.

That's how we came into possession of these two priceless paintings. I should know and I knew it to the fine details as I was there when it happened. I may be young then, as a seven year old, but that conversation remains etched in my memory.

 

One of his painting now resides in Balai Seni Lukis Negara. He won second place in a national competition sponsored by RRI, circa 73/74 when he was a student at USM. It was not a competition for the amateur actually, as the winner was one Latiff Mohidin, Malaysia's most celebrated artist and poet.

That shows how talented he was then. He passed away at a very young age of 37 in 1982. Talented (and nice) people normally die young. He left a very young family obviously - his widow (my auntie) at 27 and his three children, the youngest at two.

This was painted in 1968 and I hope his son and my cousin will be able to restore them.

Now Balai Seni Lukis Negara has two paintings, one done by him and another one by his son, as they had recently purchased a painting by his equally talented son Arif Fauzan Othman. Kemana jatuhnya kuah kalau tidak ke nasi.

His painting (murals if you must) also used to adorn the main entrance of Taiping zoo in the 70s and 80s.

Alfatihah to my uncle Othman Mansor (Othmansor). Moga Allah mencucuri rahmat ke atas ruhnya, dan dimasukkan dalam golongan orang2 yg beriman.

Raya doloe-doelo (1967)

Arif has uploaded the 2011 Raya pix at FB, and as the saying goes, a picture is worth a thousand words. So that's a 64K-word entry (with his 64 pix), much longer than what I could ever managed; I guess I would be able to delay my entry on Raya 2011.

But an entry in the NST last Sunday attracted me as it has pictures of Malaysian celebrating raya in the days gone by. So I thought I should try and do  our own personal raya entryt from the sixties to the 80s.

This is definitely Raya in
Assam Kumbang. No songket then for us
but my sampin was knotted ala P Ramlee!
This could be 1968 or 69.

When we were kids, we lived in Batu Gajah and  later on moved to Lenggong, but I think we had never failed to return to Taiping for Raya. I think most of the time, we would be staying over at our nenek's house in Assam Kumbang (read Beautiful Houses of My Soul). 

I think most of us looked forward to celebrating raya at our maternal grandparent's (as opposed to our paternal's) as there were more kids there. My uncles and aunty were not much older than us and we knew they would be playing all kind of fire works d came Malam Tujuh Likur, so it would be a pleasure to just sit and watch the fun. And perhaps joined in some of the fun.

I remember the ones that come with the parachute. They would target the coconut trees and when it exploded at the top, the parachute would open up and fall back with a small figurine.

No, no coconut  would drop because of the explosion. The explosive is not strong enough!

I am not too sure if duit raya was a culture yet then. May be it was, but definitely we didn't get the green packet then. We would get raw cash - pure and simple and most likely in coins, and we knew exactly what we would be getting, the very moment the right hand of the giver started moving towards ours!

After the solat Raya, we would be in our best dress, ready to go
a-visiting. This is still at Nenek's house in Assam Kumbang
most likely in 1967 with our Aunty. MCKam, MSu and Ksham
must have gotten their hair cut at the same saloon.

Raya in Taiping was not only about the Hariris. It is actually about the Adams as depicted here by the family of PC Zain, Mak's younger brother taken on Raya day. I am not sure if he lives nearby or if all of us were cramped up at Tok Adam's house. I have no recollection at all.

The young family of PC Zain bin Adam 
in Assam Kumbang

During this year (1967), the Raya morning we would be in Taiping, and from Taiping, we would then moved on to Kuala Kangsar to visit our paternal grandfather. Taiping and Kuala Kangsar then was not that far away, but we need to climb the hilly Bukit Berapit and as the road was single lane, we might have taken more than an hour to reach the destination. May be it is more like one and half hour.

If nenek was more well known for her dodol, then at Tok Bab's, we would be looking for the dried agar-agar. His was crunchy - dry on the outside (with the sugar precipitating out) and juicy on the inside.

And here we are in Kuala Kangsar - Talang to be precise on the
very same day the picture above (in Taiping) was taken. You can see
by the shirts and dresses we were wearing. Tok Bab is standing
with Pah and Mak and MCMiah in the background.

What do we look forward in Talang? PC Mat was a slightly older uncle and he was the only one, so it was not as much fun as it was in Taiping. But we look forward to the many magazines that Tok Bab would subscribe, so our time would be spent on reading I guess. (I remember our fav then - Kulop Kecil, Kulop Besar. Don't laugh - the title was innocent enough then, and it is a wonderful adventure cartoon series.)

But then again, on Raya day, even that would take a back seat too, as we would be going to the neighbouring houses for Raya, and a next door house has a peculiar door. The door was not vertical on the wall, but is laid horizontally on the floor!

I think the house is still intact, but I am not sure about the door.

And typically too my uncles and aunties from Kuala Lumpur would be back in KK. Pak Long and family - eldest son of Tok Bab would normally stay at his father-in-law house in KK and typically too Mak Cak and PC Wan would be around.

So after Talang, we would be visiting Pak Gam's house, also in KK - say about 5 mins from Talang, on this side of the polo field.

More rounds of duit raya, I guess.

I am still dressed in my cowboy suit that Raya and the rest of the clan
including Mcak and PC Wan and a rare pic of Bapak on the
right with his (fav) son! See how poorly dressed bapak is compared
to his children. I guess kids come first for him.

I guess back then we knew nothing more than to enjoy the day. We have no commitment and no responsibility, so life was easy enough. We have no idea on how difficult it was to cook the cookies that we all enjoyed so much - then there was no kuih tunjuk.

We knew Raya was about visiting, and Raya was about families. Nothing more, nothing less.

Kenang-kenangan Hidup

Prologue

So my youngest two siblings want me to write about their bapak. I don’t blame them. They didn’t get the chance to get to know their bapak like we the elder siblings did. We spent nearly 20 years with him, while my youngest sis, for one, for barely for 8 month.

It is not easy writing about him. For one he is no longer with us. He can't defend himself in my writing for sure - not that he needs to defend himself. On the other hand I don't want to paint him like a saint that he becomes so unreal, even when he is a very religious person. But his exploits in the course of discharging his duties and 'amanah' would make him nearly a saint, especially vis-a-vis today's morale standards.

Another bro wants me to write more on Taiping, another topic close to my heart. I have a story on the Tekah airfield aka Taiping Aerodrome (in Assam Kumbang Taiping), where Sukarno & Hatta had landed in the 40s; another on a writing by one colonial officer in the 1900 beautifully describing Taiping after-the-rain that had me jumping and screaming “That’s my Taiping; that’s the Taiping I knew.” Yes, I have been wanting to write about both topics – it is in my mind all the time.

But where do I begin?

I am as clueless as to where to start as Pak Lah clueless about managing this country. No joke. Just relying on my memory and not talking say to his sister MakCak or his brothers PakLang and PCYa, I found it hard to recall all those memories of him. May be I don’t want to, I don’t know.

The life and Times of Hariri Bab

Bapak was born in Kuala Kangsar in April 1936 and went to Clifford School. The house they lived in was a row of government houses right in the middle of KK, which front the school. The house is more like a rumah berek on a stilt. Two room and a living room and you go down (and out) to the kitchen and another room, with an open space in between to dry your clothes. Of course in 2007, that row of houses is no longer there. It is now a bus stand and a new township for KK.

We had our chance in 1979-1982 (??) perhaps to re-live what he and his sibling went through living in the same row of houses. I remember coming back after SPM and that night after my arrival, I slept from after magrib till the next morning and felt like I had waken up from my death.

It was the most beautiful sleep I had ever had.

Sorry, I digress.

The Bab family in their KK home in the 50s
with their grandmother. Their mother had just passed away.

I don’t recall much of his life in KK to be honest. Life was difficult for the 8 sibling without a mother since 1947, and with a dad with a newly married wife (Tok Bab re-married after 3 months), it was not an ideal environment to excel. Tok Bab was a technician with Telekom and I am sure his pay in those days was peanuts.

But he played cricket a lot at a field near the house (not too far from KK's wet market). He had told me stories of his cricket exploit when I came back from summer holidays, but not having caught yet the cricket bug myself, I didn't give his stories much thought. Ah, well, those were the colonial times, I guess.

Bapak with PC Wan (on the left) at Bukit Bendera. This was probably taken in the 50s(??)

But he passed his senior Cambridge exam. Senior Cambridge, from my understanding, is the O level of the olden days, and going by the number who would passed SC, I think it was probably like getting a degree today. And during those days not many would have reached that level. I don’t know why he didn’t go on and further his studies. Money issue? Qualification issue? I had never asked him.

But upon passing, his eldest bro Zainuddin Bahari Bab (PakLong), who was then working at Utusan Melayu (which was then owned by the Ishak’s brothers – Aziz Ishak to bapak is Pak Jed) asked his friend for help for a job in the government sector for his brother Hariri. I remember this story well, as told by PakLong.

“But he is overqualified for the job,” Pak Long was told, “ I am not sure whether he would last there.”

YOu read it right. He was overqualified for the post.

“Trust me,” PakLong reassured, “I know my brother and he will not leave.”

Bapak at a field expedition in Batu Gajah (??) in the 60s.
This was his first job - and his last.

Leave he didn’t and Bapak died in office in 1984 in Taiping.

For as long as I can remember, bapak was a settlement officer (SO) at the Land & District office at the various towns in Perak (Taiping in the 1960s, Batu Gajah up to 1968, Lenggong from 1968-1972, back to Taiping (1973-1978), Kuala Kangsar (1978-1984) and then back to Taiping (1984)). Obviously he had gone up the ladder from being a junior officer to the most senior SO.

Bapak as a settlement officer in his Pejabat Tanah office

But the next step of the hierarchy eluded him. I remember that in the 70s he went to Ipoh and sat for an examination for promotion, but he didn’t get the promotion to ADO (assistant district officer). I don’t know why, I believe that may be it has something to do with his health; may be he didn't pass the interview, may be he didn't play the office politics well, who knows. He had stone in his kidney and hypertension, and especially in the 80s when it was at his worst, in some way I am glad he is not an ADO or DO.

While he was a government servant through and through, he never encouraged any of his children to seek a living with the government. "Enough that I am one," he said, "I expect you to work in the private sector." I think he can see it in the future, perhaps the private sector would be more rewarding. Except for one lecturer and one teacher daughters, we have basically steered away from the government sector (i.e. two out of thirteen).

He put emphasis on education for his children. “I have nothing to give you but a good education,” that was his mantra ("Bapak tak ada apa nak bagi kat anak-anak kecuali pelajaran.") I would get that small talk practically every time I came back from boarding school. He is right, he knew he didn’t have much to give his 12 children (excluding one adopted daughter) in term of worldly wealth. And he knew that the only way for the family to progress is through education.

That he went all out to get it for us. Nothing was spared in his pursuit of that objective. Even if he goes broke getting us there - which was most of the time.

While I don’t like to talk about other people’s salary; notwithstanding my own bapak, I know what he earned then was peanuts. And to support 13 of us was a burden to him but he carried it all in the spirit "They ain't heavy, they are my family." He had never had luxury in his life. No new cars for him throughout his life – the Morris Minor (AD 8479) was a second hand.

My brother and I riding a bike in the compound of SK Sentul
in Kuala Lumpur in 1967. IN the background is the Morris Minor  AD8479.

When he brought the 'new' car home in Batu Gajah, we asked him while he was taking us for a spin, “kalau kereta baru, kenapa dia buruk?” I don’t recall his answer – he probably took it in stride like that Burung Murai dad. He drove that car for nearly 20 years till he sold it in the early 80s and bought a second hand Opel Kadett (AW2002).

That was the car that we had a breakdown in the middle of the night in the early 70s that he had to ask us to wind up the window just in case if a tiger were to pound on him while he was out checking on the engine; at least his wife and kids were safe.

Oh, and you know what was his fav car - The Puegeot. I remember that he wanted it so much that a couple of times the salesman was at our house in Aulong. But he knew he could not afford the car, so in the end he resorted to buying an old Opel.

And still no aircond for us then.

He didn't get to taste living in his own house until the last week of his life.

That’s the kind of dad you have, Zali, Aisyah.

He would sit and read the books with us at night at our government bungalow at the edge of Lenggong. “Goodbye Aminah, goodbye Mei Ling, I’ll see you again tomorrow,” said Ali - we would read along (that was from a Std 1 book). That’s how he cultivated the love for books in his family. He would spend the time with us, and not just give a directive “Pegi baca buku!” like yours truly to his kids nowadays.

……….to be continued

Epilogue

If you want to get to know your bapak, listen to these two songs. We used to listen to this folk song by The Brothers Four & Theme from A Summer Place by the Percy Faith Orchestra in the early 70s on vinyl. Yes, the vinyl is still with me and safe in my collection. For some reasons everytime I listen to these two songs, it reminds me so much of him.

This is the ori vinyl (EP) from the 60s that is still in good working condition. There are two songs on this side - Theme from a Summer Place and Greenfields.

This song was a very popular song in the 60s. Even Peter, my associate was stopped on his track when he heard this song one day on my notebook. He is just a couple of years younger than bapak.

The lyric is so poetic. I for one knew the lyric by heart, ever since I was in primary school. For he was our Greenfields & our Summer Place.

If you want to listen to the recorded version of Greenfields, click here. Otherwise click on the youtube below for the live version from the men themselves - the Brothers Four.

Once there were green fields, kissed by the sun.
Once there were valleys, where rivers used to run.
Once there were blue skies, with white clouds high above.
Once they were part of an everlasting love.
We were the lovers who strolled through green fields.

Green fields are gone now, parched by the sun.
Gone from the valleys, where rivers used to run.
Gone with the cold wind, that swept into my heart.
Gone with the lovers, who let their dreams depart.
Where are the green fields, that we used to roam?

I'll never know what made you run away.
How can I keep searching when dark clouds hide the day
I only know there's nothing here for me.
Nothing in this wide world, left for me to see.

But I'll keep on waiting, ‘til you return.
I'll keep on waiting, until the day you learn.
You can't be happy, while your heart's on the roam,
You can't be happy until you bring it home.
Home to the green fields, and me once again

And this one by the Percy Faith Orchestra - Theme from A Summer Place

Lima Kali Kahwin (Amboi!)

I first heard this song when I was a kid.

It was Mak who introduced and explained the song to us. We were in Lenggong if I am not mistaken, and with no television, we would always listen to the radio or play the vinyls. She said the song was funny, as it is about the guy who married various girls from all over Indonesia and their cooking styles.

The Javanese gal would always adorn the kebaya, and would always cook tempe, while the Padang gal would cook petai and jering. The Medan gal asyik2 tumis, and goreng2, kari-kari campur belacan?  haha Apparently he also got married to a Western gal, and she would wear tight skirt, and she would always cook french fries and everything cheese.

And at the each of each story the singer would imitate the wife's way of justifying the dishes she cooks - in the various dialect.

"Oh itu paling enak, darling" in a fine western slang.

It is funny. I love this song, Zulkarnain is cheeky in this song.

I have no idea who is Zulkarnain and how he looks like. I tried surfing but could find little.

Anyway, enjoy the song, ok. I prepared the video after downloading the mp3, but could not find anything suitable as Gadis Medan.

Norlela vs Nurlela

The one by Bing Slamet, Nurlela, was recorded in 1960, while the movie Norlela was released in 1962.

I guess it was a popular name back then.

I do enjoy both to be honest. Lovely song, and lovely movie.

Norlela, starring Murni Sarawak


Nurlela - Bing Slamet

Farewell to thee, Bayum

The cousins during Raya 2009.
Bayum is the one in the middle in the background. The
Mahmuds are such a close-knit family.

Baharom bin Mahmud, 1963 - 6 Oct 2010

A dearest cousin of mine, and teman sepermainan back in the 70s in Aulong Taiping, passed away two days ago at Taiping Hospital after ~3 weeks in coma. I have only recently met up with him - on the 4th day of Raya, to be precise, and he was his usual self. I am not sure if I have talked much with him, as there were quite a number of people. So our conversation is still fresh in my mind. I could not have detected that that would be our last, to be honest.

They dropped by again after a couple of hours to pick up some duit raya we didn't get to give the kids earlier, and I told him at that point I didn't know the way to his twin Baharin's house in Simpang (they were all heading there).

"Tak pa, nanti Aman sampai sana, bagi tau, Bayum datang ambik," he said.

I nodded my head.

30 mins later, he picked us up on his old motorbike and showed us the way to the house.

Earlier, he had visited Mak and us on his old motorbike. I have to emphasize on the word old. It didn't  even have an odometer. The place where the meter used to sit in, is now an empty socket. Just like an empty socket without the eye. It is really in bad condition. I should have known that everything about the motorbike spelt trouble.

"Nanti simpan lah duit, beli kereta lepas ni,' his big brother Abg Ned told him that day. I was there to hear the conversation, right in the middle of it. I think he pitied his brother as he was the only one riding a motorbike that day - an old, dilapidated one at that. "RM3000-RM5000 saja." I am not sure what kind of car one would get for that amount of money. I didn't know one could get a car that cheap. Then again, I am sure Abg Ned was not talking about a new car.

But it was an advice a tad too late. A week later he met an accident on his motorbike and passed away 2 weeks later. 

Kak Sham and I decided to visit him about a day earlier. I was about to drive to Kuantan, but decided to postpone the trip when told about his deteriorating condition, and we both thought that it would be wise to visit him while he was still alive, albeit in coma at the ICU. His hands had already bloated - a sign that his internal organs had failed him. We went to his bed and flanked him - KSham on the right and me on the left..

"Bayum, kuat kan semangat. Ingat anak-anak. Nanti depa nak kawin, nak tengok Bayum ada sama," KSham whispered to his ear. I touched and held his turgid left hand.

We wanted him to fight to stay alive. But we were only met with silence - only the sound of the machine pumping oxygen into his chest, and the voice of KSham filled up the quiet atmosphere in the ICU.

"Aman nak raya sekali lagi dengan Bayum," I told him, after KSham had left to allow other to join us at the ICU. We would normally be alloted about 5 mins each, may be 10 at most, if we were to negotiate. But that afternoon we were the first visitors, so there was no competition for the ICU badge. "Aman tau Bayum kuat; nanti Aman datang rumah Bayum pulak."

There was no response whatsoever from him. I would not be able to tell if he would be able to hear me. My instinct told me to keep on talking and that they would be able to hear it in their mind. That's what we did with MCak when she was recuperating a couple of years ago. I was really hoping he would be able to hear me out.

He was looking forward to turning 50 in a few years. He has some money in EPF when he was working at Taiping Textiles aka Taifab in Kamunting  - we are all connected to Taifab in the 80s when I was an intern there, and he was a fulltime worker and he was looking forward to be able to withdraw some of his money saved. That's what he told KSham a few months ago.

But it was not meant to be. Tak sempat aruah nak merasa titik peluh berbelas tahun bekerja kilang, we all thought.

As for me, there will be no more Raya with him next year. For two consecutive Rayas (2009 and 2010), he had visited us in Sri Kota Taiping on his old motorbike. Without fail. We grew up together in Taiping, specifically in Aulong, so I can consider him as a friend and cousin. He is unique in the sense that he grew up with our grandparents - Tok Adam and nenek Bulan, which he would affectionately call as Abah and Mak respectively. And Mak, who is his auntie, was called Akak.

And I know I am going to miss him.

We had used his house in Kamunting as the venue for the dodol making in 2006. Once during Ramadhan 2005, I decided to sponsor his children's baju raya. So Mak and I took the children in the car and bring them to Taiping for a shopping spree; sort of. That's was about the only time I did something for his family. Looking at the shirts he wore during Raya 2009 and 2010, I knew I should have done more.

Looking back, should is a norm word for me. This is one person who didn't know how to help others more when he could.

A very young Bayum (right) with the blogger during Raya
in the 60s in Assam Kumbang. We are of the same age,
and hence can relate to one another.

He left behind a widow and five children, the youngest in Std 4.

Selamat jalan, Bayum. Semoga Allah mencucuri rahmat keatas ruh Bayum dan dimasukkan Bayum kedalam golongan orang-orang yang solleh.


Amin.

Alfatihah.

Jom Tengok Anak Bulan

Hey, calling on my siblings especially - time to go home and tengok anak bulan, eh?

Bulan, anak-anak Bulan dan cucu-cucu Bulan

Especially for the fact that they did not get to see it yesterday's afternoon and are now expecting the anak bulan to appear on the horizon tonight. Little did they realize they could have seen her in Taiping!


The reason I am making the call is for the fact that I am stuck here in Kuala Lumpur today on the very last day of Ramadhan, and I am not in Taiping as I would normally be, and that is rare and only happens once every few decades!

Typically in our family I would be the first one to ‘tengok anak bulan.’ Especially when I was working for Hyprotech, I have been given the liberty to take long Raya leaves (which showed how unimportant I was then!), and I would be the last one leaving when Syawal moon dah nak mengambang. Well, not quite, but the last one leaving Taiping is true.

It is always a tradition here in Malaysia to have a ceremony to determine the end of Ramadhan, even with the advent of technology. It's not the intent of me to discuss the need for this tradition - perhaps in another entry.

Suffice to say that the tradition is well alive in our family but we are not sure how long more this tradition can go on.

You see, anak (-anak) bulan is/are a disappearing specie. There used to be 12 anak bulan for us to view but now I guess there are only 5 of them left. Although I think the remaining five would remain at at least for many more years to come especially anak bulan in Taiping!

Of course I am talking about mak – for she is an anak Bulan. 

Literally.

You see our nenek's name is Bulan Binti Tammat, and hence that makes our mak an anak Bulan!

This is (nenek) Bulan. I am not sure when this was taken to be honest. It is not dated.

She is long gone from this world, but I am reminded of her every Raya with her dodol. May Allah bless her soul.

Selamat hari raya everybody, and maaf zahir batin.

Malam Tujuh Likur Part I

Malam Tujuh Likur is a night we used to look forward to, when we were kids.

And why not; it is a night filled up with fun activities for us. In fact it's not just one night. It could be the last 7 nights of Ramadhan, even though the last three nights are considered malam tujuh likur, officially, that is.

Actually malam tujuh likur initially was closely associated with malam lailatul qadr, as the 27th night of Ramadhan is considered a premier night for both events. However, due to modernization I guess, the activities start diverging and there seems to be a disconnection between these two. Malam tujuh likur is almost associated with lampu pelita, panjut, bunga api, mercun,  meriam buluh and fun, while Malam Lailatul Qadr is typically the night when one should be doing lotsa prayers and ibadah.

Have I mentioned bunga api and mercun? That is before Malaysia becoming a police state and ban everything that is fun.

I have never been bothered about the meaning of Tujuh Likur. Why tujuh (seven), and not eight, and what's the meaning of Likur? A quick check in Kamus Dewan reveals the following info:

likur: bilangan antara 20 dan 30, dua puluhan; tujuh~ dua puluh tujuh; selikur dua puluh satu.

There you are, if you were the uninitiated kind, like me, before. That's the reason why it is called malam tujuh likur. If there was any doubt that the practice is associated with the Lailatul Qadr, this should nullify your fear. The nights of likur, as they are towards the end of the months, are quite dark with little, if any, moon light. So I guess our fore-fathers decided to brighten the night with pelita and panjuts.

There was no electricity in the kampungs then, and the pelita and panjuts helped them on their way to the suraus and masjid for their prayers, while looking for Lailatul Qadr. Of course they could have differentiated it from other religion's practices by say adopting obor instead of pelita (like in P Ramlee's old film), but it would be more difficult for us to make. It would be cool though. Anyway, that's the theory. Whether it is true or not, well, let's consider that that's the truth for now.

My earliest memory of malam tujuh likur is in Batu Gajah. We were then too young to remember much, but playing with the crackers that exploded in one's hand was no fun for me. It was not too bad I guess, nothing that a little bit of brylcream cannot handle.

A light application of the famous hair mousse would do the job. No need to see the doc and get proper medical attention. We were tough kids then, I supposed.

And back to playing with more crackers and bunga api!

Obviously for us back then, we played with simple black-and-white bunga api - bunga api cap mata kucing. The handle is made of metal, so you would have to be a bit careful with the lingering heat. But unlike some fanciful bunga api nowadays, this bunga api would only give out yellowish fire, or white sparks, mono-coloured, and set against the dark sky, I would call it the black-and-white bunga api.

No fancy-coloured firework then. The bunga api that gives out colourful sparks came in much later.

However, mercun or crackers were not something we would normally play with. May be it was due to the earlier incident; may be bapak was a bit strict about about safety and hence seldom, if ever, we would get to play with mercun. I am sure with us being kids, we would still play with it, but nothing that would tell him that we were playing with it. So we would have to select the smallest and the ones that would give the least noise.

It is like an oxymoron, isn't it? ;-) Crackers that would give out the least noise, do they exist?

We did, however, play the more fancied mercun and bunga api at nenek's house in Assam Kumbang, albeit being observers most of the time. PC Usop and PC Nasir were bigger kids than us then, and were considered adult enough to play those mercuns that would shoot as high as the coconut trees, and on purpose they would choose a coconut tree as target.

Complete with a parachute that would be ejected at the end of the glorious and fanciful fireworks.

We have to wait for the uncles to lighten the fireworks, and enjoy the show, and then rush to the explosion site to capture the parachute floating down.

I am sure we still have similar fireworks nowadays, but with the advent of the police-state policy in this country - and the fact that we do not have much space anymore, we seldom would play these types of fireworks in KL.

May be in Taiping, where we would have space more abundantly.

Of course my memory of tujuh likur is not dotted with fireworks and firecrackers only. Half of the fun is preparing to lighten up the dark night with fanciful pelita and panjut. At that time, we were innocent I guess. It had never occurred to us then that malam tujuh likur has similarity to Deepavali, and that the spirit of Lailatul Qadr was not in our mind those nights.

We were just looking forward to the first of syawal.

For that, we would need pelita and panjut and litter that through out the compound. We were then competing with the neighbours on whose house would be brighter, and prettier.

Back then, we did not buy the pelita, we would make them ourselves. It was easy; all you need are tin susu and some tali guni, and hey presto, you have pelita. Now you can simply buy them at Carrefour for RM6.

Of course, you need minyak tanah or kero as fuel for the little fire. Back then kero was cheap, and plentiful. Nowadays I would have to drive to Ulu Langat to get my supply of kerosene, and I pay RM5 for a 1.5 L bottle of kero.

In Lenggong, we would go and look for our own bamboo to make the panjut, and for that we would need to enter some secondary jungle up a small hill behind our Simpang Labit home.

Our Labit house in Lenggong

You can see the hill and the jungle in this picture. It is quite a jungle out there complete with the remains of a house in its midst, so even during the day, it was quite scary, but in the name of tujuh likur and some older kids, we braved it then for some bamboo.

The whole compound was then filled with our bamboo panjuts, we were expecting that the light from our panjuts would fill up the dark Lenggong nights of the 70s.

Obviously, then we hope to kick the ass of the anak2 tok penghulu, our neighbour whose house is basically behind ours. They probably have more kids than the Hariris, and for some unknown reasons, we do not get along that well with them. Neighbourly rivalry may be. May be.

And for some reasons that are still a mystery to me even today, many of the panjuts were not in working order that night. The light  I was expecting from the combustion of kerosene did not occur as it should be, except for may be a few. May be it had rained that day, I don't remember anymore.

May be it was this failure that drives me to become a chemical engineer that I am today!

This is of course only true in this blog. Nowhere else, as I remember it, it would come into the picture in 1980 when we had to decide what course we would be taking after our SPM days. I am trying to write to make up for the space I have in this blog! ;-)

Beyond all the bunga apis, the panjuts and the pelita, another must for us would be the lampu kelip-kelip. To that is synonymous with Raya and malam tujuh likur, without them, it would be just like any another night during the year.

This I believe is a forgotten art especially in my area, for one could count the number of houses that would have the lampu kelip-kelip which I thought is a shame. Typically when we were in Taiping, bapak would take us out for a spin in Assam Kumbang to enjoy the light show during malam tujuh likur.

with apology to the owner

Obviously I stole these two pictures from the net, with apology from the owner.

It is not to say that we should imitate Christmas, but in December, they would have fanciful decoration in the compound. Of course they have Christmas them of reindeer and santa claus, and they use white light, typically icicles type of lampu kelip kelip, but ours are normally coloured light and would be kelip-kelip, if you know what I mean.

Assam Kumbang would be richly decorated in the 70s with the fancy and colourful lights. It was so beautiful at night, knowing fully well that some special days are coming to the fore. Then, that is. Nowadays, unless you are muslims yourself, you would not know there would be a grand celebration coming anytime soon.

Where would we be with malam tujuh likur without the meriam buluh?

Obviously as bapak would not have approved it for safety reasons, we can only watch, the penghulu kids playing meriam buluh at their house in Simpang Labit. We would never touch it, and meriam buluh were very popular with the kampung kids in Lenggong, and I do not recall anyone getting hurt then.

May be many of the kampung kids were smarter chemical engineer wanna-be, and are quite safety conscious with the carbide, may be, I don't know.

But enjoy this scene in Kg Talang in Kuala Kangsar. Talang is also our kampung, on bapak side as Tok Bab lived here in the 70s and his house is still in good live-able conditions. I don't remember us playing crackers here that much as there weren't as many kids here as in Aulong - only PC Mat there I guess.

But these video is a reminder of the days gone by and the boisterous celebrations that we used to enjoy back then in the 60s and 70s.

You can have war between two kampungs during malam tujuh likur. After all, one can still seek forgiveness during Hari Raya!

Although these are no longer meriam buluh.