Everything that happened in posa month, all the fun, hype and activities led to the finale on raya morning. I can never get enough sleep on raya eve due to anxiety, but would still wake up in high spirits. We would normally be up on raya morning around 6.30am and waking us up on raya mornings was definitely easier then waking us up for school. We would be flocked off to the 'bilik mandi' which was a small outhouse made of zinc roof and zinc walls. Within that zinc bath house was a large rectangular cement 'tangki' where water is stored. I remember it was usually mum who gave us our baths; green milo tins and red or blue plastic cans called 'gayong' were used to dip into the the tangki and splash us with the icy cold water. If left to our own devices the shower would be invariably short and swift, 'mandi burung' my parents would say (literally translated to mean bird bath). With mum in charge we would get a full lather of soap and body scrubbing which would leave our skin pink and smarting.
Dressing up and getting into the new yellow, orange or brown teluk belanga took no time at all, right down to tying the 'samping', socks and shoes, topi melayu on our head and a face dabbed with Cuticura or Johnson baby powders. Sometimes when we overdo the powder part, my grandma would remark: 'macam tikus masuk dalam tepung'. Freshly showered, fresh faced and dressed in refreshingly coloured teluk belanga, I would be ready and waiting for the ride to the state mosque for raya prayers from uncle Kamarudin.
We lived next to the kampung's surau and my dad would be at the surau very early. I remember the surau was an elongated rectangular shaped building, made of wooden planks, painted blue with dark belian shingle roofs. The kampung folk would turn up at surau in droves, all dressed in teluk balangas in different colours and shades. The teenage boys and girls would sell stickers to collect funds for charity. Most homes would also have sent food to the surau for those who wished to have raya breakfast at the surau after raya prayers. Straw 'tikar golong' (rolled mats) used for prayers would have been rolled out since the night before to be ready for prayers.
My uncle however, would come to get me on his motorbike (I am trying remember the name of his bike) and we would head to 'masjid negri' in town instead. I remember the original masjid negri had a huge dark dome and that it was demolished some time in the late 60s (or it could be early 70s). The current masjid was built on the exact site.
The masjid negri still sits majestically on top of a small hill, surrounded by the cemetery where Muslims from the time of Raja Muda Hashim or earlier have been buried. The masjid is right by the Sarawak river next to Brooke Dockyard and Engineering Works (BDEW) where my dad worked and retired as the Superintendant. We visited BDEW many times while growing up; most of my dad's colleagues knew us by name, watched us grew up and kept tabs with how we did in school etc. I remember tales of spirits and yellow mud thrown from the adjacent cemetery in the middle of the nights. There was a case of a security guard at BDEW known as Pak Assan who fell sick after one such incident because he went to check and touched the mud.
In front of the masjid negri stood an old wooden shop, kedai Haji Sihat, selling an assortment of curry powders and traditional Sarawak malay kuihs like 'penyaram', 'jala', 'sarang semut', 'edam', 'kuih sepit', 'kuih cina', etc. The old wooden shop is still there today and still looked as old and decrepit as it did forty years ago. The curry powder from that shop is renown till today, I remember my family referring to the 'kari munggu kubur' (munggu kubur means cemetery). My uncle would usually park his motorbike next to the 'kari munggu kubur' shop and we would walk the short distance up the small hill, through the cemetery and reciting 'Al Fatihah' as 'sedekah' to the 'penduduk kubur'.
Uncle Kamarudin is mum's eldest brother among seven siblings. There is a younger brother name Shah Jahan, who later studied medicine in Canada and migrated there. There were five sisters - Zamrud the eldest aunty, the late Mummy Esah who lived in Singapore who was such a lovable aunty, my mother - Chi Mohidin and her two younger sisters Mak Tuyah who later married and moved to Labuan, Usu Misiah who married and moved to Singapore. Usu Misiah is the mother of the singer actor Maizurah Hamzah (my closest claim to celebrity).
Anyway, as the eldest brother my uncle would be addressed as Abang Kamarudin by his siblings. Somehow for reasons I cannot remember, the nephews and nieces, all grew up referring to him as Abang Kamarudin. Today, our children, nephews and nieces would refer to him as 'Cik Bang', short for Pakcik Abang Kamarudin. Abang kamarudin worked in the government clinic in Kuching, now renamed Polikinik, as a senior attendant and was the union leader; Secretary General I think. He was very popular in the kampung and even dispensed vitamins and maybe even tablets and creams for simple fevers, headaches, rashes etc.
After raya prayers, it was customary for Abang Kamarudin and I to go visit my aunty and grand aunt who lived in Kampung Muda Hashim, on our way back from town. 'Berjarah raya' as we refer to these visits in Sarawak would begin immediately after the raya prayers. Berjarah (or Berziarah, as it is actually called in Malay) is the form of greeting among Malays where we would extend both hands and we 'berjarah' instead of the handshake in western society. Berjarah with our elders would involve us bowing and kissing their hands too. 'Berjarah' with the parents and grandparents usually involves them sitting on a chair, and the children or grandchildren would bow to kiss their hands and knees as we 'berjarah'. I cannot recall my children berjarah with me this raya, much less kissing my hands and knees...Hmmmm!
[Editor's note: I beg to differ, I tried to berjarah with you first thing in the morning but you told me to check on Adam's teluk belanga. I did manage to catch you later in the day, though.]
Abang Kamarudin and I usually concluded our 'berjarah' and arrived home by about 11am. At each relative's house that we visited we would have been feted with ketupat, lemang and fizzy drinks. That would not stop me dipping into mum's cooking as soon as I reached home. However the raya breakfast for the family cannot happen till after we 'berjarah' with grandma, mum and dad and asking for forgiveness for all the things we have done wrong over the last one year.
Usually by this time we would already have guests flocking to our home by the droves. They customarily arrive just as mum finished cutting the raya cakes and displaying them on trays and plates on the table along with the curries and the rest of the feast. The first batch of visitors would normally be my dad's staff from BDEW and their families.
Lucas and his wife and sons from Matang would always be the first. Lucas,was a very cheerful, chirpy man with a ready smile and a good hearty laugh. He had a distinct voice and spoke extremely fluent Malay. He was a very close friend of my late father and would come visit my dad long after they had both retired. The big Peter Chin and his family was another colleague of my dad who never missed raya at our house. I remember Peter Chin as a big guy with a gentle and quiet demeanour. His sons and daughters were also quite tall and big.
Then we had a contractor friend, Kho Kak Beng, who would never fail to come berjarah raya. As I recalled Kho Kak Beng was a small contractor providing manual labourers 'banging' on the rusty ships hulls that docked at BDEW. BDEW was a dry dock and ships would be steered into the dock, propped with bako woods on all side before the river water was drained out of the dock. The process of dry docking ships were a treat to my brothers and sisters. Kho Kak Beng is now a major corporate businessman with a company carrying his initials, KKB Bhd, now listed on the KLSE mainboard. There were many more colleagues and friends of all races from BDEW, PWD, DID, Marine Department, etc that would come berjarah raya at our house at No. 35, Jalan Bunga Rose, Kampong Gita.
The hustle and bustle of serving dad's staff and friends would be over by late afternoon. Then it would be the kids turn to go berjarah raya. Berjarah raya in the kampung for me would entail a group of friends of about the same age (between 7 to 10 years old) from the neighbourhood. We berjarah to almost ALL the houses in the kampung till late at night everyday for the whole of raya week.
We went berjarah street by street in the kampung - Jalan Bunga Rose, Jalan Bunga Cempaka, Bunga Kenanga, Bunga Raya, Bunga Teratai, etc. It did not matter whether we knew the families of the houses that we visited but after a few years of doing this I came to know most of the population of Kampong Gita anyway. Likewise, we welcomed everyone with open arms whether they knew us or otherwise. The process of getting to know will follow thereafter.
Usually the elders would ask us "kitak anak sapa?" (who are your parents?) and every family in the Kampung would know my family and would exclaimed...'Oh anak Bujang Macpherson dengan Chi' or '..cucuk Hj Smah'. Till today if I return to my kampung and stop by the masjid (the then surau) next to my house most of the elders would still fondly remember us when we were kids.
Neighbours and family members from afar would continue to berjarah during the later part of the raya week and sometimes the whole raya month of shawal. The practise of berjarah raya is still alive but probably not exactly the same as it was when I was an eight or ten year old boy. It would be unthinkable to allow our children to roam freely all day long till late at night, going house to house, in view of the security risks. But then I admit that raya really is special to kids of all ages.
However I am glad we still practise opening our doors on raya day to staff and friends of all race and religion. My first day raya spread in KL now still includes chicken curry, beef and mutton rendang, dhal, ketupat, satay and lemang PLUS our very own Laksa Sarawak! No berjarah for the kids though; except for Nabiya and Marko who spent their second day raya onward in Kampung Gita this year.
Selamat Hari Raya and do come berjarah raya!
(I wish my 'dependable' editor is back from berjarah raya in Kuching)
[Editor's note: Better late than never, papa, I'm back... didn't get much duit raya this year though... heh heh]
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