Thursday 29 December 2011

School child harvest

There is a small rambutan tree in the front compound of our house. It was planted by my mother quite a number of years ago, I can't remember. A few years ago it started to bear fruit but the quantity wasn't that much. Last year was not very good at all, with most of the fruits falling off the tree before they were fully ripe.

This year is different. Seems to be the best produce of all... a bumper harvest. Part of the tree's branches overhang past our front fence and the neighbourhood kids are having a field day plucking the fruits as they please. Some of them ask our permission while others do not. To those who asked, I say go ahead. There's plenty to share.

Since last Monday was a holiday and it wasn't raining continuously like previous days, I decided to do some rambutan-harvesting. My son and his cousin pitched in to help. I climbed part way up the tree to trim some of the branches using a saw. The fallen branches were then gathered by the boys who then pluck off the abundant fruits at the tips. Trimming the branches help new leaves to sprout for the next season.

As my son started to gather the branches, three of the neighbour's kids came around to help... and this kind Pakcik then rewarded them with a plastic bag-full of their pickings. I had trimmed maybe four or five small branches when I felt too tired to continue. We had already collected 2 large bucketful of the fruits. There are still plenty more up there on the tree. Maybe I'll continue the harvest this weekend.

The rambutan my mother planted is of the variety known as `anak sekolah'. Strange name for a fruit but very sweet and juicy with a reasonably thick flesh. I wondered how the name came about. According to a friend, this type of rambutan is well-known in Kelantan state since many years ago. Moktea anok skoloh, that's the way they say it.

The young man using a stick and ladder to pick the lower fruits

The plucked fruits are gathered in a bundle and then shared

Red hairy skin...

...with white juicy flesh.

Monday 26 December 2011

The day after Christmas

The first time I spent my Christmas holidays at a place where most of the people actually celebrated Christmas, was in 1980 in the small town of Wrexham, in the northern part of Wales, in the United Kingdom. The bunch of us students from Malaysia didn't actually do very much during that term break. It was freezing cold outside so we just stayed at home, kept warm and watch TV. No snow though, so it wasn't a white Christmas.

It was the first time I heard the term Boxing Day, the day after the 25th of December. It is also a public holiday in the UK. If we in Malaysia can have 2 days off for Aidilfitri plus another 2 days off for Chinese New Year, then it is not difficult to understand why the Matsallehs cannot have 2 days off too.

I was puzzled why they called the 26th of December as Boxing Day, so I asked my British friends. None of them could give me a definitive answer. Even today, trying to search for the origin of the name via online sources does not give clear results. The name has nothing to do with the sport of boxing (you know, the game where one man punch another man, in a ring which is actually square in shape). The most accepted theory is that it has to do with boxes (the thing that we keep stuff in), whereby charity boxes containing donations from the public during the Christmas service the previous day are collected and then shared with the poor.

Well, what ever the origin of the name, I remember Boxing Day for another reason. It is a full day programme for English league football. So I'll be tied in front of the telly tonight.

Hoping my friends had a lovely day-off yesterday. Me and the missus had a quiet day resting at home. Our son with a number of his cousins, had a blast spending the whole day at Universal Studios in Singapore.

Once a lifetime experience...

Saturday 24 December 2011

Swift as an arrow

I drive to work this morning (yes, I work on Saturdays). The traffic on the highway to Pasir Gudang is lighter today compared to the weekdays, but still busy nonetheless.

I am on the right lane of the two-lane road, driving at a leisurely 70km/h. A few cars are not far in front, at the same pace. The left lane is conquered by the slow heavy lorries, as usual. I glance at the rear-view mirror and see a car in the distance, speeding towards me. Pretty soon it is right up on my tail and I see it is a red Suzuki Swift. It is so close. The sight of the car fills the whole rear-view mirror. The driver seems to be bugging me to move over but not poking my bum with his headlights. I buat bodo aje...

Image borrowed from
Suzuki Malaysia website
A gap in between the trucks on the left-hand side appears. The Swift makes a quick lane switch, overtakes me on the left and weaves in back in front of me. I see a young man driving and a young lady in the passenger seat... a prick impressing his girlfriend, no doubt. He continues to weave in and out to overtake the other cars in front.

As I watch him fly away in the distance, I realise that another car is close behind my tail. Another Swift! This one is black. It has a lone driver. The same thing happens... as gaps on the left lane present itself, blackie makes swift lane-switch manoeuvres to get to the front. Crap, I thought. I'm being hit for a double trouble this morning. Tak boleh jadi ni...

A thought crosses my mind... I should give them a chase. But then I realise that this old car of mine is no longer a sprinter but a long-distance runner. A few years ago, I would've stepped on the accelerator and perform them nifty moves myself. Age is catching up on me.

Turns out to be a good decision. As if on cue, I hear the sound of a siren behind me. A police patrol car is crawling on my back. I move to the left when I see a safe gap. The coppers zoom past, switch on the flashing blue lights and catch up to the two Swifts. Both Suzuki cars are directed to pull over to the road shoulder.

As I pass them, I note that it could've been three cars in the police summons book. God is kind to me today...

Thursday 22 December 2011

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone

The original singer of this song, Bill Withers, released it in 1971. The song became a classic hit. Since then, a number of other singers have performed cover versions. A few months back, I discovered this youtube video of Joe Cocker singing the hit in his distinctively raspy style and I like it very much. I thought it appropriate to share at this present time... what with the weather being gloomy and rainy for the past few weeks.

Youtube credit to : Andranik Azizbekyan



"It's not warm when she's away...."

Yeah, you're right Joe. The missus has been away at the hospital for ten days now. The doctor says she may be discharged tomorrow if everything's okay.

Saturday 17 December 2011

Common and self-admiration

As a young boy in primary school, my interest in reading was sustained by poring over Enid Blyton's books, particularly the Famous Five and Secret Seven series. Whenever I come across a new word, I would borrow my father's pocket-sized Collins English-Malay dictionary. That tiny book became my reference companion for a few years until my father, either on seeing my keen reading habit or wanting his own dictionary back, bought me a thick full-fledged dictionary published by Larousse. I was in awe when I received it as a present. It must have cost my father a bomb to buy it and I treasured it very much.

From reading Blyton, I went on to read more classical authors like Charles Dickens and Jane Austen. Reading Dickens was tough. He used so many words I didn't understand that I had to refer to the dictionary too often. This took out the fun in reading so I went back to reading mystery and adventure stories. The Three Investigators and The Hardy Boys were among my favourites. As I entered late teens, my reading scope expanded to include horror by Stephen King and spy thrillers by Frederick Forsyth and Robert Ludlum. Most of the thrillers that I read are fast-paced and I can become so engrossed as to miss dinners and postpone sleep. Unputdownable, if there is such a word.

If I come across new words while reading such thrillers, I never stop to check their meaning in the dictionary. It spoils the momentum. Usually I just try to guess what they mean from the context of the sentence. Only after finishing the book would I flip the dictionary to check if my guess was right... but I'll do that only if I remember or if the word interests me. Sometimes I wouldn't bother... especially if I think the word is too complicated and that I'd never use it myself, either in speech or in writing. Sounds like I'm limiting my vocabulary, but hey... there are millions of words out there, so it's okay if we don't know a few.

I was listening to a classic song recently when I heard a particular word that I didn't know the meaning of. I googled the lyrics and part of it I reproduce here :

You drove me, nearly drove me, out of my head
While you never shed a tear
Remember, I remember, all that you said
You told me love was too plebeian
Told me you were through with me and...

The word that stumped me is plebeian. According to my dictionary, the word means something relating to ordinary people or the common folk. If used as a noun, it is a degrading word for someone of low social class. Now how's that for an insult.

Click on this link to have a listen to the Susan Boyle version of the song -> Cry Me A River

Ok then, for good measure, I'll give you another word that is in my `hard to understand' category - narcissistic. I'm having trouble even pronouncing it. I first came across this word in a novel but I can't remember the novel's title. It means having an obsession with one's own image and ego.

So there you have it - plebeian and narcissistic. Two words I doubt I'll ever use...