Little Cozy Corner

Seeing the tall, coconuts trees swaying in the cool breeze amongst atap roof houses was a norm for me. Running barefooted on muddy roads after a rainy day was something I always looked forward to but was frowned upon by Mum when she caught me frolicking in the mud. I’m sure it did not amuse her to clean me up spick and span, from head to toe after such a day and yet, I always found joy in doing so. Perhaps I knew subconsciously that all this would be lost in the near future due to vast development that nothing and no one could stop.

It was a huge affair for me and the year-end school holidays was something to look forward to every year when I was growing up. Without fail, Mummy would take my younger sister and I back to Butterworth to visit her family. It was always a joy to spend time with Grandma although most of the time she was pre-occupied playing ‘Patience’ in the kitchen with a lighted cigarette dangling loosely from her aged-worn lips. Aaahh…yes, lips that once were luscious red and seductive yet in time, have lost their appeal and yet, I loved them all the same for when they kissed me, it was of pure love. I hardly remember Grandpa for he had passed away much earlier although I have had memory flashbacks of the both of us taking a ride in the trishaw. And Mummy has pictures to prove it too. I guess I do have a pretty good memory.

It was no rich man’s life living in Chain Ferry Road and yet, I felt so much at home and at ease visiting and living in that huge wooden house that my mother called home and grew up in. Although it was big and old, musty-smelling and scary to one as young as I was then, I was always intrigued by its structure especially the attic. Till today, I still wonder what lay beyond those creaky, dark stairs. The furthest I ever got was perhaps 5 very cautious and unsteady steps before I would see myself running helter-skelter in the opposite direction for no particular reason whatsoever. Perhaps it was just my inner chicken rearing its cowardly head.

But what I loved the most was the silver painted 2 seater metal swing that Grandpa placed just beneath the huge mango tree. I spent a lot of time sitting and swinging by myself in that swing. I could spend hours just sitting in that swing. Afternoons were the best times of all as I was sheltered by the tall shady mango tree. I loved just lying down on it and looking up at the gorgeous blue sky between the tree leaves as the cool breeze kept my damp and sweaty skin dry. It was always humid at Grandpa’s…must be all his lovely greens and orchids. He had a really big orchard and was an orchid enthusiast, just like Mummy. I bet she got her green fingers from him. It was common to hear the constant crowing from the big black birds throughout the day. It was something I didn’t fancy at all only because they tend to drop rubbish on my beloved swing and that made me cross many a times. But yet, it is those black crows these days that remind me so much of the days long gone. Every time I hear a crow, I’m instantly transported back to the kampung I once called ‘home’.

It has been at least a decade since I last step foot in Chain Ferry Road or the kampung beyond the main road. Both Grandpa and Grandma have long gone, leaving behind just sweet and warm memories. The government has since taken over the area and many families have been moved, unwillingly I’m sure, to another location or perhaps ‘bought’ over by the local authorities. All that’s left these days are the pre-war foundation poles which kept the houses intact. Everything else is in rubbles. Gone were the days of passing and sharing steaming hot dishes over the wooden divider between neighbours. Gone are the shacks where the night soil man visited. Gone is my poor kampung which I know I will never see again but long live the memories buried deep within my mind and heart.

*A piece of writing that’s going to be submitted to Memoirs Of Malaysia*