REUNITED 287 Race Course Lane was one huge sprawling residence. In the middle of the land stood a spacious stilt house with an extended kitchen and a two-roomed unit. A car workshop shared the compound together with many fruit trees. However, not many knew of some graveyards that lay in a secluded corner behind the stilt house, camouflaged by banana trees. The house belonged to my late dads adopted brother whom we lovingly called Dadar Ali. He was a pensioner and a strict one who lived to a ripe old age of 90 years old. His daughter and her family occupied the house too, tending to his needs at the same time. My father would always bring us to visit his brother and I grew up being close to Dadar Alis grandchildren. Zainab became my childhood cousin and I would drop by her house for lunch or a chat. The house was never silent. The siblings of six boys and three girls would curse and swear at one another but they would end up at the dining table laughing and joking, enjoying Zainabs superb culinary skills. The boys would look after their fathers workshop, hammering and tinkering the cars. Her cousins from her maternal and paternal side would also crowd the residence. There were frequent engagements, weddings and birthdays celebrations held at Dadar Alis house and that was how I met Zainabs cousins. One night, Zainabs brothers threw a birthday party. They were into music. Improvised kerosine tins became drums and cut-out planks were their dream guitars. They decked the back of the house with lights and chairs. Canvas sheets covered the undulating ground. The guests streamed in. They made some kampung music, tucked in the food and took their seat while enjoying the conversation under the moonlight. There was no bouncer to control the crowd so it swelled to more than the invited list. All chairs were taken up. Some guests had to sit on the canvas covered ground. Amidst the singing and the merrymaking, several loud shrieks were heard. A fight had not broke out. Someone had lifted the canvas sheet. To his horror, the guest realised that he had been seating on a grave and had used the tombstone as his armrest. The guests scampered to leave, kicking the tins and cursing the host about their extraordinary hospitality. Some were praying hard that they had not enraged the dead for fear they might end up being possessed. The party ended early naturally when news spread that the graveyard was where some of the guests had seated. I did not know whether any more parties were held after that. --------------------------------------------------------------- And the wedding I attended today reunited me to all of Zainabs siblings and cousins whom I have not met for a long time. With Zainab Omar, Noraini Mohamed Noor, RareRose AJ, Yusuf Abdul Rahim
Posted on: Sun, 21 Sep 2014 14:04:11 +0000
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