Where’s The Loving Feeling
Can we coexist as one when irreversible damages have been done? Your guess is as good as mine…
Ipoh Echo Online
Troubled Times
Those who grew up in the 60s would certainly recall this 1965 hit song, You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling by the Righteous Brothers. It was the number one song on the hit charts in the West. The song did fairly well in Malaysia, although it was not during the best of times. The country was being troubled by communist insurgents and a hostile neighbour bent on crushing the nation and its people. The message in the song has much relevance with the malady that is afflicting the nation today.
Although raised in a kampong I grew up in a town and was exposed to the bright lights at the tender age of five. Parit Buntar in the 50s and 60s was simply an insignificant provincial town with basic amenities, at best. Times were bad as the economy had nose dived due to falling rubber prices. There was not much development. The only buildings that were constructed were a row of shophouses and a 30-foot tall clock tower, a gift from a former hometown boy who made it big in Kuala Lumpur. The clock tower, built on a tiny roundabout at the entrance to the town, is still standing today but minus its grandeur. Back then it was the town’s only landmark
Kampong Roots
In spite of my urban upbringing I did not completely abandon my kampong roots. My brother and I would join our Malay brethren on weekends and during school holidays. Fishing was a form of escapism for me. The many ponds and streams that dotted the landscape were filled with ikan keli, puyu and haruan. I would use my grandmother’s priced fishing rod to fish. Hers was a seasoned bamboo pole with a hook and line on one end. In spite of its simplicity the rod worked wonders with fish, especially ikan puyu. For baits there was a plentiful supply of grasshoppers available in the idle padi fields behind our house. Catching grasshoppers requires a certain amount of talent which I acquired after watching the old lady deftly grabbing the insects with her bare hands.
The month of Ramadan was something we kids looked forward to in the kampong. The village’s madarasah would be a hive of activities. We would gather at the prayer house for breaking-of-fast and the tarawih prayers that followed. Moreh (mass-cooked food) would be served to the congregation after prayers. Some of us would remain behind taking turns to beat the giant cowhide-covered drum to warn villagers the time for sahur.
