Happy days…Kelantanese words.

“How much altogether, please?” I asked.

Lin (my Masters student) and I had just finished with our dinner at a Tom Yam restaurant at a corner. The small eatery was situated at the crossroads leading to my lodging i.e. Rose Palace, Kota Bahru, Kelantan.
“Twelve ghiya samah!” said the cheerful owner.

“What is that again?” I asked turning my head to Lin, my eyebrows raised. She too seemed a bit muddled up.

“Sorry! I mean, twelve ghiya and fifty cents,” he said, nodding his head.

“Is that so? We are so sorry! We are not from here, that is why we have problem understanding what you have said,” said I.

“It is alright!” he said, returning our smiles.

“We have learnt a new word tonight!” I said to Lin, turning on the engines. I drove Lin back to the trainee students’ hostel at the Health Campus of USM, Kubang Kerian, before retiring to my humble temporary abode at the Rose Palace.

Early next morning, we were back at the campus, in particular, the Radiology Department. That was our routine for weeks on end, holed up at the Medical Campus, trying our best to finish our research work. The corridor leading to the small space given to us for putting our things and doing our work was dimly lit, its atmosphere was a little ghostly. Every day, while walking past the corridors, we could hear noises.

The first few days when we were there,I would often ask, “What is that sound? Like a small kitten whining for its mother.”

Finally, the matter was resolved when one day, I asked the security officer stationed at the entrance to the corridor.

“That is the sound of the MRI machine. That machine cannot be switched off, even for a second,” said the officer, beaming a friendly smile.

Everyday, while on our way back from lunch at the cafeteria, we would stop to pamper ourselves with the sweet taste of freshly cut fruits.

“They are simply marvellous and so sweet, aren’t they?” said Lin, a pair of tongs in between her fingers, picking up the slices of pineapples, papayas and mangoes.

“You want the awaih-awaih?” said the young man manning the stall.

“The what?” said I, trying to make sense of his words.

“This!” he said, holding up a clear container, filled with a certain brown and white powder with a spoon in it.

“Oh! That! We call that asam boi!” I said, bursting into a laugh.

“Really? Do you want it?” laughed the young man too.

I nodded my head, my lips curving into a little smile while my eyes were looking at Lin’s face, as if smiling and telling her, “Another new word to be added into our collection, indeed!”