Buddies, Fruit Season and A Tiger Tale
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Been a while since I updated this blog and the usual excuses will be tendered. Work, family matters etc. etc. Not that it matters.
Nazzim’s birthday came and gone and he’s got his presents long before that, i.e. during Sofia’s birthday, about three weeks before his.
I have got a ton of work around the house to do and I aim to do it soon. I have been watching too much TV lately but not AF or Malaysian Idol. It’s the talk of town but not my cup of tea. My apologies to all fans of those two shows. But this is a free country, so while I don’t watch those shows, others have a right to do so. But I won’t defend that right, hahaha. That is a mutation of that famous saying said by one of them dead guys. I’m not sure if it was Benjamin Franklin, Nathan Hale, Benedict Arnold or John Hancock. Come to think of it, it’s not Benedict Arnold, he’s famous for being a traitor and neither was it John Hancock, he’s famous for his John Hancock, I mean his long and elaborate signature
Over the weekend I met my buddies Wak, Red, ex-Joe Sewel and we discussed about the coming school alumni annual dinner. Both Red and ex-Joe had to go on overdrive asking yours truly to simply be patient about many of our classmates who are playing hard to get about going to the dinner. I think after the dinner I’ll just say goodbye to all. Two decades or so is a long time to carry on about something. Maybe there is nothing to it, maybe it is just hanging on to worthless images, ideas and visions.
On a juicier note, the fruit season is in full swing. There are more mangosteens and rambutans we could ever eat at my mother’s house and we resorted to sitting in front of the house and call out to whichever kid(s) lucky enough to pass by to go ahead and take the fruits. But they have to climb the trees or use the galah themselves. Some of them have that you-are-asking-us-to-take-the-fruits-for-free-you-must-be-kidding look on their faces. But awas the ants. It runs in the family. Long ago my grandfather said to someone to go ahead and take the fruits at the orchard and that bozo actually brought a lorry to try and clean out the place. Luckily there were some of the kin who were not that kind and that offer was retracted soon after. Aiyo, the gall of some people.
Aaah, the orchard. Some place it was. It was the same place where my brother and uncle slept in a hut during one durian season and one night when he turned over in his sleep, instead of my uncle, he felt something big and hairy instead. Oh, my uncle was not hairy, neither was he big. Yup, it was one of the resident harimau penunggu. Ha ha, needless to say, they ran back home and it was a long time before anyone except my grandfather and father dared to sleep at the orchard. I think that was just before Dr. Ariffin nearly ran into that cow running like mad out of the orchard and started overtaking all vehicles on the road. People figured that the poor thing must have had the luck of running into the harimaus. Dr. Ariffin was not a real doctor but a part-time bomoh instead. But he does cure sick people and we bestowed upon him a degree in medicine and the title Dr. He was a fine doctor until he lost most of his eyesight but he still insisted on riding his bicycle around the village and started using white shoe kiwi instead of some oil when he gave his massages and when that white shoe kiwi dried up, you could get a nasty blister or two from his rock-hard fingers. Back to the animal story, they let the harimau penunggu stay at the orchard since they had nowhere else to banish them to, as it was, they were sent to the orchard from my grandfather’s house in the first place by my grandfather himself when my Kak Munirah, Abang Yusof and Abang Najib were growing up as it would be rather improper to have a few tigers running around the house then, with children and all. They could still remember when at dusk, sometimes they’d see the tigers come home from their daily walkabout, how sometimes at night they’d feel the house shake as them tigers rubbed themselves against the pillars of the house and almost every morning they had to sweep away fur from the veranda.
Anyway, that was how the story went. Like Mr. Ripley says, believe it or not.
.
Been a while since I updated this blog and the usual excuses will be tendered. Work, family matters etc. etc. Not that it matters.
Nazzim’s birthday came and gone and he’s got his presents long before that, i.e. during Sofia’s birthday, about three weeks before his.
I have got a ton of work around the house to do and I aim to do it soon. I have been watching too much TV lately but not AF or Malaysian Idol. It’s the talk of town but not my cup of tea. My apologies to all fans of those two shows. But this is a free country, so while I don’t watch those shows, others have a right to do so. But I won’t defend that right, hahaha. That is a mutation of that famous saying said by one of them dead guys. I’m not sure if it was Benjamin Franklin, Nathan Hale, Benedict Arnold or John Hancock. Come to think of it, it’s not Benedict Arnold, he’s famous for being a traitor and neither was it John Hancock, he’s famous for his John Hancock, I mean his long and elaborate signature
Over the weekend I met my buddies Wak, Red, ex-Joe Sewel and we discussed about the coming school alumni annual dinner. Both Red and ex-Joe had to go on overdrive asking yours truly to simply be patient about many of our classmates who are playing hard to get about going to the dinner. I think after the dinner I’ll just say goodbye to all. Two decades or so is a long time to carry on about something. Maybe there is nothing to it, maybe it is just hanging on to worthless images, ideas and visions.
On a juicier note, the fruit season is in full swing. There are more mangosteens and rambutans we could ever eat at my mother’s house and we resorted to sitting in front of the house and call out to whichever kid(s) lucky enough to pass by to go ahead and take the fruits. But they have to climb the trees or use the galah themselves. Some of them have that you-are-asking-us-to-take-the-fruits-for-free-you-must-be-kidding look on their faces. But awas the ants. It runs in the family. Long ago my grandfather said to someone to go ahead and take the fruits at the orchard and that bozo actually brought a lorry to try and clean out the place. Luckily there were some of the kin who were not that kind and that offer was retracted soon after. Aiyo, the gall of some people.
Aaah, the orchard. Some place it was. It was the same place where my brother and uncle slept in a hut during one durian season and one night when he turned over in his sleep, instead of my uncle, he felt something big and hairy instead. Oh, my uncle was not hairy, neither was he big. Yup, it was one of the resident harimau penunggu. Ha ha, needless to say, they ran back home and it was a long time before anyone except my grandfather and father dared to sleep at the orchard. I think that was just before Dr. Ariffin nearly ran into that cow running like mad out of the orchard and started overtaking all vehicles on the road. People figured that the poor thing must have had the luck of running into the harimaus. Dr. Ariffin was not a real doctor but a part-time bomoh instead. But he does cure sick people and we bestowed upon him a degree in medicine and the title Dr. He was a fine doctor until he lost most of his eyesight but he still insisted on riding his bicycle around the village and started using white shoe kiwi instead of some oil when he gave his massages and when that white shoe kiwi dried up, you could get a nasty blister or two from his rock-hard fingers. Back to the animal story, they let the harimau penunggu stay at the orchard since they had nowhere else to banish them to, as it was, they were sent to the orchard from my grandfather’s house in the first place by my grandfather himself when my Kak Munirah, Abang Yusof and Abang Najib were growing up as it would be rather improper to have a few tigers running around the house then, with children and all. They could still remember when at dusk, sometimes they’d see the tigers come home from their daily walkabout, how sometimes at night they’d feel the house shake as them tigers rubbed themselves against the pillars of the house and almost every morning they had to sweep away fur from the veranda.
Anyway, that was how the story went. Like Mr. Ripley says, believe it or not.
.
posted by dudae_simboyo at 13:53
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