WITH the school holidays soon to be upon us, I can't help but recall my own holidays in the 1960s. Instead of vacationing in Disneyland with Mickey Mouse or Donald Duck, my brother and I experienced a more real and raw adventure in life.
During the holidays, we'd stay with our grandparents in a village nearby Kampar. Their house had a large compound with a big jambu air (guavarose apple) tree in the centre. All of my siblings and cousins learnt to ride the bicycle using grandpa's old bicycle around his compound. Our doting grandpa had 60 grandchildren so you can imagine how many dents and scratches were inflicted on his poor bicycle.
Although it was old and rickety, his bicycle was nevertheless still working fine. It was just like grandpa himself. Although he sustained numerous sprains and fractures during the war, grandpa was a still a healthy and strong man in his 60s.
We'd have to wait for our turn; each one of us would be allowed to do three rounds around the jambu tree. As grandpa's bicycle was big and tall, we had to twist our little body with one hand holding onto the seat while the other would be controlling the handle.
It was hard to maintain our balance when pedalling the big rickety bicycle. We'd often crash into the front door of our grandparents' house. Whenever grandma heard a crash, even from the kitchen at the back of the big house, she'd give us a nice scolding.
She had a pair of sharp ears and a loud voice. Occasionally, we'd crash into the jambu tree which would bring an unexpected windfall. Some ripe jambu fruits would then drop onto our heads.
Our grandparents had a small altar below the jambu tree. It was quite a common practice among the villagers those days. They called it their Datuk which was like a 'Spiritual Jaga' or guardian spirit for the house compound.
Once, my brother crashed into it and broke its oil lamp. My father made him kneel down and kowtow three times to our Datuk with three joss sticks. My father also bought some bananas and rambutan to appease our Datuk.
However, I noticed my grandma always bought imported and expensive apples and oranges for Buddha and Guan Yin on the altar table in the house. It was an eye-opening lesson for me about social hierarchy and discrimination even in the spiritual world.
CHILDHOOD ESCAPADES
Our grandparents' house would get a little stuffy in the hot afternoon. Sometimes, we'd climb up the jambu tree for some rest and relaxation. Its shady cover was a welcome natural air conditioner. I loved sitting high up the tree while looking down on what was going on around the house.
I could see my grandpa happily repairing the broken front door and my father tirelessly chopping firewood. I could see my aunts busily chatting and cooking in the kitchen. I often wondered whether they enjoyed the chatting or the cooking more.
My father had told us about the newly invented space satellites orbiting in the sky. With their high-tech and powerful eyes, I wondered whether they could also see what was happening in our family and neighbourhood on earth.
The pink jambu fruits were irresistible on a hot afternoon. Once, in my eagerness to reach out for some juicy fruits, I slipped and fell down the tree. Luckily, I didn't crash on the Datuk. However, I ended up knocking out my two front teeth. Hurriedly, my mother bought me a sweet and colourful ice ball. Its numbing coldness instantly relieved my pain.
The sugar gave me a high and the rainbow colour also cheered me up. My mother reassured me that everything would be fine as our Datuk would be blessing me with a new set of teeth soon. I was six then and obediently trusted my beloved mother. True enough, the next year I grew a new set of shiny white teeth.
As the December school holidays coincided with the monsoon season, we'd also be flying — and fighting — kites with others. As our kites flew high up in the sky, our spirits also soared together with them. Often, we flew them so high until they were tiny specks in the sky.
My brother, Wai, loved flying so much that he eventually joined the Royal Air Force to become a fighter pilot later. Wai was especially good at making kites and lacing our strings with some broken glass to make them sharper. We'd fly our kites and cut our opponent kites with our sharp strings. We won some and lost some — that's part of the game.
Once, we painted an eagle on our kite. During its flight, a real eagle flying nearby could neither outfly nor outshine our eagle. Out of anger, the eagle started to attack our eagle kite. We had to somersault our kite several times to scare it away.
On another occasion, our kite got stuck in a coconut tree. I climbed up the tree to retrieve it. When I reached the top, a sudden gust of monsoon wind blew and swung the tree so violently that I almost wet my pants. It was an unforgettable incident and I swore never to climb a coconut tree again.
BUFFALO BOYS
"Boy, Sam, come over here!" my friend, Meng, used to call his two buffaloes as he tugged on the ropes. Boy and Sam would slowly nod their heads and lumber towards us while flipping their tails.
During our secondary school holidays, my brother and I would often visit our friend, Meng, to play with his friendly buffaloes. Meng could read their mind and mood as he'd been rearing them for years.
Water buffaloes might not seem as glamorous as horses but they were really fun. Buffaloes are shorter and easier to mount and dismount. They're also friendlier and down to earth, literally speaking. They'd even smile at us whenever we fed them with pisang gajah or elephant bananas.
We loved riding our water buffaloes and would race against each other. My brother, Wai, would always win. Somehow, he loved the thrill of speed. Years later, he'd be flying his fighter jet faster than the speed of sound.
I remember a time when we mounted our buffaloes to cross a big lake. We wanted to pluck some wild and juicy guavas and durians on the other side of the lake. I was feeling a little hesitant as it was the first time for me to cross a lake riding on a buffalo. Meng assured me as we entered the water, saying: "Don't worry, just hang on to his horns. It's easy!"
I remember feeling an exhilarating rush of adrenalin as we entered the water. It was so exciting to be able to ride a buffalo as it swam effortlessly across the lake. What was special was the bond and trust between Boy and myself. I could feel the strength of Boy and his pair of big horns as my life depended on them now.
As we were halfway across the lake, I recall Boy begin to tire. He started dipping his body lower and lower into the water. I was then quite a distance behind Meng and Wai. Sometimes, Boy even dipped his head below water. Maybe he didn't like the sun that much. This meant I was forced to go underwater too.
IN THE DEEP END
I found myself struggling to breathe. I was going to drown. I was gripped by fear. No one was going to help me. I had to think fast. What should I do? I had no choice but to quickly let go of Boy before it was too late. I had no time to say goodbye to him. I had to swim to the nearest shore all by myself.
After swimming for a while, I remember there was a wall of floating water hyacinth blocking my way. It was like jumping from the frying pan into the fire. I had no way of penetrating them as it was too dense to swim through it. I took a deep breath and swam under them.
The sky looked dark and everywhere I turned was water hyacinth with its long thick roots. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't find any opening for air at all. I was running out of breath and felt like I'd pass out soon.
Luckily, I eventually found a small opening. I quickly emerged from the water to gasp for air while treading water. Just as I was breathing hard, I felt something sting my legs. It could be a water snake or a fierce Toman fish, I remember thinking before panic gripped me.
Instantly, I summoned all my strength to force my way through the water hyacinth. I nearly passed out by the time I reached the shore. My leg felt painful and the wound was bleeding. But, at least, I survived and made it to the shore alive.
I had to rest under a tree by the lakeshore as Meng and Wai enjoyed all the wild guavas and durians they could find. Thankfully, my wound wasn't infected. It healed itself quite nicely, but not without leaving a thick scab after a few days.
Our adventures came with plenty of alarming moments. I also remember a time when Meng and his friend almost sank into the muddy lake. We were all trying to pluck some lotus fruits and flowers to sell for some pocket money during the holidays.
The local Chinese believed that their Goddess of Mercy, Lady Guan Yin, meditated on the Lotus flower. Its flowers were said to be holy and its fruits, auspicious and nutritious. As the bigger fruits were located further out in the waters, I recall Meng and his friend bravely wading out to the deeper end.
We hadn't realised that its soft muddy bottom was like quicksand. Within minutes, they were already down to their chest level. I remember Weng Wai and I frantically making a grab for a long piece of bamboo to reach them. We pulled and pulled with all our might, all the while panting heavily.
After an agonising interval, we managed to pull both of them to safety. However, their shoes were stuck in the muddy bottom. Meng wanted to go back to retrieve his shoes. We all scolded him, exclaiming: "Are you mad? Your shoe or your life?"
After this scary incident, we were more careful. However, we were not intimidated. The lures and temptations of the lakes and forest as well as wild lotus, guavas and durians were simply too irresistible for schoolboys such as ourselves.
Gary Lit Ying Loong, a retired academic from Nanyang Technological University (NTU) Singapore is presently a visiting professor to some universities in Asia and Europe. Reach him at [email protected].