Childhood memories — Part 2

WHEN my family made the big move from Kuching to some remote village somewhere between Serian and Balai Ringin, I was 11, confused, and scared.

I arrived to find my Inek’s kampong house without electricity, so there was not going to be TV. I had left all my old friends behind in Kuching, and wondered what my new life in the desolate rural landscape was going to be like.

The next day after my arrival, my mother took me to the pegung to wash her clothes. (A pegung is a pool fed by flowing water, and was created by Ayak Guek and his neighbours for the explicit purpose of providing a swimming pool for the children.)

I suppose the news that a new lady from the city had arrived in the village travelled fast. A group of young children about my age soon came to the pegung, perhaps to check out the latest addition to their midst. They were all boys except Miding. (Being Iban, Miding’s name has to be pronounced as ‘Mediang’.)

They jumped into the pool and started to show off their swimming prowess. They displayed different strokes and swimming styles. They had a hilarious competition to see who could submerge the longest under the water surface. But it was obvious the boy they called Wat was the best swimmer of them all.

Very soon, we all became friends, as rural children were wont to be. Miding taught me how to swim with eyes open under the water, and also gave me tips on the right way of breathing.

Wat became one of my best friends. He would take me into the jungle, taught me how to build bird traps out of twigs and leaves, to climb up the jambu tree, and fish with a wooden rod. Kampong life suddenly became much more lively and interesting than my city life before! There was not a dull day indeed.

When I went to Form One at the SMK Balai Ringin, five miles away from my house, my father hired a kereta sapu to fetch me and my siblings from the house to the school, and make the return trip later. Suddenly, I came into contact with children my age from all kinds of different ethnic backgrounds. My social life became so much more interesting.

I got to know my Malay friends Tipah, Hamisah, and Sa’diah, while Juliana, Misery and Maurine were my Iban schoolmates. Among my Chinese friends, Bong Siew Chin and Bong Juan Lee were my best friends. Bong Juan Lee was the school shot-putt champion in the girls’ division, and she was stouter in build than some boys. When she talked, she shrieked like a surprised hen.

The naughtiest boy in the entire schools had to be an Iban boy with the strange name of Looking. One day, while we were gathered for the morning assembly and waiting to sing the Negaraku, Looking suddenly broke wind very loudly. The girls ran away from him in fits of uncontrollable giggles.

The teacher found out that Looking was the culprit, and asked him why he did it. He replied with a straight face: “Tidak tahan.” He was firmly admonished in words, but only mildly punished.

We all played together, during breaks, after school, and sometimes during the weekend. There was no racial segregation.

Sometimes, they came to my house, and we would go swimming, fishing, and even playing football, boys and girls together. We all liked to race bicycles, and even motorcycles!

Sometimes, during the weekend, they would descend upon my father’s house, to play in his huge garden. We would go fishing for prawns in the river, while others would gather corn. Then, we would set up a BBQ pit, and roasted our catch and harvest, all without adults teaching us how to go about it! The adults would keep their watchful but loving eyes on us of course.

Sometimes, we would just play the cassette tape player under the Enkabang tree and had a singing session. I must confess I considered myself the best singer of them all!

I had left the village long ago, to pursue my study and then to work in Kuching city. Like many of you out there, I have found the hearts of city dwellers hard to fathom. Over and over again, I had been betrayed and stabbed in the back by those whom I considered friends. Then I realise how

lucky I was to have those childhood friends in the village. Memories of all those faces warm my heart in my dark cold nights in Kuching.

Nowadays, everybody is talking about politics, in the office and during social gatherings. Many tense, amazing, and confusing things are happening in West Malaysia. All kinds of rumours spread like wildfire. It seems every politician wants to be the champion of his race and his religion.

Then I think about my very good friends from all the different ethnic communities in those distant childhood days. I met one or two of them in my adult years. We still screamed with delight like little girls upon those chance encounters.

The politicians should learn a lesson or two about racial harmony from those schoolchildren in Sarawak’s rural area.

(Feedback and response to Ladybird can be sent to ladybird_wen@hotmail.com)