The Beh of Datuk Lat (pun intended)

Remember Kampung Boy?

I took to the highway first-time after the Hari Raya. A friend was grieving over his Dad's passing. I simply had to console him, knowing how sad I was letting go of my Mom. The guilt feelings that one had not done the best, yet there were circumstances beyond your control.

I had to recall the great times I had with mom, and be grateful for the 'ingenuity' I created. When Mom was alive, many years ago, it dawned upon me that my phone call brought her endless joy. So I said to myself, a call I can pay for, but my mom's voice is one I cannot buy.

So I set on this love-affair with my mom. I called her on the phone almost everyday. Someone asked me "what did you speak to your Mom about?. I can hardly hold a conversation without going blank on what else to say".

So I recommended him the book "What do you say after you had said Hello". Know what? I bought that book but had not read it.

So what did I speak to my mom that requires the soap sequel on the following day, and the next, and.. Simple. I listened to her, much of the time. I could hear her enthusiasm. When I heard her happiness, i would add in re-cycled moments about happiness I shared with her. Sometimes just about her food, her hair, her temperature, her breakfast, her dinner, her feet, her sarong (it is ok to jaga tepi kain sarong Mek, as we called her).

To add enthusiasm to the call, I egged my sons, and daughters to speak to nenek too, one after the other.

On another day, I would ask my children to call nenek first, just to let her know that they appreciated her and missed her voice, and not just because their dad passed the phone over to them.

I went to console my friend. To let him know that whatever had happened, we cannot unravel time. We just have to move on. Just think about the good deeds he had made and gladdened his dad. He will soon be fine. But most importantly, he, being a son, need to keep doing good deeds and do some in his dad's name, for the deeds of his dad ended the day he was brought to the grave, but the ajr accruing from his sons and daughters who make doa for him will perpetuate for as long as the children remember to perform these duties.

The highway would lead me to his kampung. I was trailing a van with a familiar caption written on the back, together with the phone numbers to call. Ahhh.. Datuk Lat had resorted to advertising his comics on this van, thought I.

As I got closer the caption became clearer, and it read "Kambing Boy". Kami sedia membekalkan susu kambing dan daging kambing.

Behhhhhh...

.

Born Again in Paris

I am no Mormon yet I feel sooo born again, after the Raya.

Paris? No lah, it is Pagheet.. Bote kiri, Bote kanan where Doc Shahe resides. But we did weave through the many Parits on our way Balik Kampung; each tells a story well preserved.

When we hit Parit Pinang Seribu, the kampung of our bro-in-law, we felt for an elderly lady there, who smiled at us a few kilometers before our shadows hit the kampung. She is a lady of courage. She still flashes her best smile even after 1000 times failed proposal. If you'd like to make her a proposal, please make sure you do not disappoint her this time, cos we will be very disappointed. Very.

We'll be coming after your throat, cos we're reluctant to change the name to Parit Pinang Seribusatu.

Then there was Parit Jawa. Need I elaborate?

Parit Sakai is nice. Really nice. It is one of the most developed, landscaped with a Taman Teknologi in mind, and a masterpiece for the engineering feats achieved by the pakciks, mak ciks, waks, mak itams, pak utihs of yore. They had produced the engines of development, for the world consumption. Have you not seen their bull-dozers, tractors, and the latest gallant crane, boldly emblazoned "SAKAI"?

Parit Korma, Parit Sulong, Parit Temu Jodoh ( that's where CB met CsB..), Parit Setongkat (or was it Setongkol?) but you wont blame this old soul for having his favourite haunt (get the drift?). Takut nak sebut.. yes, you guess right, Parit Syetan. It is apparently very underpopulated, in fact no one is seen going about in the day time. But you should be there malam raya... grrrrr... the H*-Rayas in all fineries come out to play fire flower (bunga api) but dont you stare into their faces. You'll be very disappointed, cos you are not going to see any.

But why Born Again?

Of late, after raya, CB felt like re-living his childhood. Coming home from the mesjid after Subuh, with CsB in tow, he would pore over the parit (monsoon drain outside his gate); fish-net in hand, a clean bowl of water in the other. CB turns fisherman. He is now having nearly an hour of fun every morning scooping the 'fishlets' and guppies from his parit, to have countless hours of fun watching these tranquil souls swim about in his bird-bath. Come join CB lah.

And if you happen to see a 53 year old aparition, in the failing light of dawn, poring over your drain, a fish-net in one hand, and a bowl of clean water in the other.. do not run away. Just slowly come close, and say Hi CB. Guess what?

That thing is not CB. Now it is time for you to run and shriekkkkkk at the same time....

Selamat Hari Raya, Maaf Zahir Batin