Raindrops and firefly

After every flood has subsided, the bunch of kids would go down the river bringing tire tubes of all sizes and dusssss, into the water. That was one of the ways of celebrating the early morning breeze during my childhood. Cold it have been but for a kid like me who was immortally mortal by the heat of naughtiness, it was a big no problem haha. We would stay there until one of the moms came and started scolding everyone, ohh yes, it’s time to get ready for school. From 7 to 11 o’clock and that was our prime play time…down the river, of course.

We use to stay there and molding santul, a small ball shaped molded sand . Each of everyone was having their own site to polish his santul and later we would fight each other’s, bangging them to the death haha. Racheal’s was the only one santul every one could not win. His santul was as big as a soccer ball. Imagine that. He would carried it inside a plastic bag every time we went to the river side and it was always funny to look at. After the mandi sungai season was over, he crushed it on his own and we would look at it and felt guilty. How sad.

Everyone would sneaked in my uncle’s orchard and stole as much as limau manis and buah koko, then ran away to the up steam. My uncle knew it after some time and we would get caught red handed, sometimes. That’s the reason we became green little ninjas back then, putting up branches on the back and wore green t-shirt while crawling through the grass just to steal fruits. Funny.

There was a time when I lost total control during life-boating on the still-heavy-current of the subsided flood. Everyone was shocked and mission to rescue me, was started. They all jumped in their own ‘lifeboy‘ (nickname for the tire tubes) and
started to catch me up on a heavy current and deep Liawan river. I was stranded on a bamboo pile, we called it liagu. Someone actually died there, and I though it was my turn to be swallowed alive. Thank God Im still alive. Thanks to them I can still write this one adventure I had haha. Now the place isn’t there anymore. Everything changed.

Here is another story of the past. My cousin and I were the only anak-anak kecil around the late 80’s in my family. We used to play around and sneaking out the house every time we got the change in the afternoon and we would go down to the river and wasted time playing tanah liat making features we liked. Not forgetting to bring some of my mom’s sarong making balloons out of it. Haha, time went to fast. Today, she has become a beautiful lady and a good teacher. Me? I’m still hanging around time waiting to blast that visions of mine beyond reality.

We used to help my mom to cook pisang goreng after being scolded because of the mandi sungai thing. Haha. It was a very special moment in my life. How I wish to get back in time to just do lots of things with both of them and laugh. There is not much we can do and tell of being a grown up. We can’t afford the time to just sit around and enjoy the good times we used to have during childhood. Everyone is having their own struggle,  and ups and downs. Being a grown up isn’t easy.

She wanted to call me abang but I never wanted it. I felt ashamed when she acknowledged me to that extend. In the end, none of them address me to that, but always with the name. So I guess I’ve made my mistake because I felt like nobody respected me as an elder to this day.

Ahh.. We were good friends back then. Always do things together. Tales of the two children ended when I knew what was the meaning of kampung boys. I started to join the kids at my age and did stupid things. The only time I stayed home in my free time was on Saturday and Sunday morning, cartoon fever that is. After that, it was melastik burung time.

Walking through the stairs of time turned me into a man. Now the kids I used to play with are having their own family and children. Damn, they went ahead too fast or am I the only one who is still searching the meaning of life? The story was an adventure of mine, late in the 80’s but we are now here in the new millennium. I don’t know how to accept this but it’s was almost 20 yrs ago.

… and now I feel sad.

I remember back when I was about 12 years old, I took a Karate lesson during night time after school. After each of every lesson, my Sensei would send me home but not at the stairs of my house, it was more like a couple of hundred meters from my house at the edge of a jambatan gantung, a Kampung bridge across the small Liawan river. So I would walk down there and looked around, sometimes stumble, but most of the time scared. My heart would be pumping hard while walking through the depth of nights, but I’m greatful that I’ve experience it and it made them a wonderful memory.

There was a tree, though. A very special tree for me. I don’t know if you believe this but, every time I was walking across the bridge, the tree would suddenly turned in to a Christmas tree. One can see all the fireflies would fly and gather there making it shines similar to a Christmas tree, filled with color lights and blinking all night long. There was a special feeling about that but I would never stop and took the time to enjoy that scene. The moment you get that special feeling makes the night even scarier. The sense will tell you, there is something wrong about it and you will start to have goosebumps.

I want to actually enjoy watching the tree and the fireflies but I failed in every attempt, too hardcore for a 12 years old. There was a time when my friends and I went to check out the tree but nothing happened. No fireflies, no Christmas tree and no nothing. I wonder why? Btw, that place actually has its own tales. Scary ones to be exact.

It happened every night until I was 14 when the tree got washed out by the raging stormy flood in the 96. I never saw fireflies since then. I guess not many people experienced that and I for one, pity some of the young ones who I believe don’t even know what is a firefly. Not just fireflies, lots of other beauty of nature I used to see back then, are now disappeared. NOT even a bettlebug. You know that small red little bug with black dots on its back. And there was this square shaped bug, sometimes yellowish, sometimes whitish.. gosh, I miss the old times.

I used to go play in the bushes searching for insects and plants. Remembering back, there was a lot of names I hardly hear people saying them now such as rumput sundal, kucingan, jarak, etc. I can’t recall the name for that plant which has a purplish bud-kinda-flower and its leaves can shy shy one…oh shit, it’s that rumput semalu!!! hahaha. I always ended up getting stings by bees. Funny but enjoyable because back then there was no computers, no counter strike, no DOTA, no nothing of such.

Such a wonderful memory.

I’ve been living here in the land of my ancestors since the day I was born, not so long before I can see this magnificent world full with mystical wonders. My ancestors have been fighting much of the struggle to raise up generations of Sabahan, which, somehow divided into ethnics. I am a mix-blood of a Dusun and a Murut, so now what have I become? A whatever? Should I or should I not to use the surname inherited by my father who inherited it from his great grand fore fathers? Why can’t I use my mother’s surname, instead?

So much mysteries yet so little we know about ourself, not to mention this homeland. So much to seek and to understand, but so little left to discover. Things have passed and gone none to be seen again, so let us dig deep what’s left to understand the past. There was a time in our generation’s life line disrupted from the track and resulting a devastating outcome, so let us rebuild that track of time to a better future for this land of our ancestor.