“There it is!” said I, pointing my fingers to a prominent structure, jutting out from the green avenue of firs and casuarinas along its sides. Dusk has fallen. The waves were beating on the shores, the glimmering sands hardly seen any more in the deteriorating light.
It was just the two of us this time. My other half and I. We were there once before. More than 20 years ago. Only at that time, we were there as a family. I still keep the photos and would glance through it every now and then. Just to reminisce…..
Back then, our daughter was about 7 years of age. Beside her, was her little brother, and he was nearly 2. I wanted to take a photo of the two of them on the beach, in the breeze, under the shadows of the casuarinas. Our daughter was ready to pose. As usual, our little boy could not stay still for more than a minute. Something in the sand intrigued him and he put his face down, poking here and there in the sand with the stick at the last second, just as my finger pressed on the button. And the camera went click…
Those were such wonderful moments. We had traveled to the east coast using our old and battered second hand car (a Nissan 120Y, with a plate number beginning with PAE something…), grateful that we finally reached the coastal shores. At that time, there was no highway like now. We stopped at Pantai Batu Buruk, spending the night at about one of the more decent hotels amongst the handfuls that were around at K.T. We walked along the beach; sometimes running, sometimes walking; at times playing hide and seek. The children were laughing gleefully.
Then, we were off to Dungun, stopping to put up the night at a very modest place. No TV, no air-conditioning and no hot water. Only the bare necessities and the most important thing was that the place was spotlessly clean. In the early hour of the morning, we were already up, enjoying the view of the sun rising slowly above the horizon, the rolling white waves amidst the waters so blue.
Suddenly, there was a lot of noise and commotion in the air. Our little son whom we believe could not understand a thing, was somehow feeling the change in the air. Both our children's faces were beaming as they ran towards the shore.
Yonder, we could see a group of men, the waters up to their waistline, flanking both sides of what made up to be a boat. Slowly, they were closing into the shore, the semi-circular shape that they made becoming narrower and smaller. Just then, we could see something else. Right at the centre from where they stood, there were fish! Yes! Fish! Fresh and gleaming like rainbow in the sun's rays. Here and there, jumping up towards the sky and landing back onto the shallow waves. The net beneath them was beginning to show as the group of men slowly pulled it up onto the sands. A typical scene back then, of fishermen pulling in their catch of the day. But not to us, city dwellers. We were mesmerized!
By then, our children were nearly hysterical with excitement. And so were the little groups of children and women of the village, who had gathered around. They too were jumping up and down along the shores. Smiling faces, everywhere….
This little piece of experience was a very valuable one. The closest thing that our children got to real life fish were the occasional visits to the aquarium. We also took them to the wet market at the Central Market of Ipoh once in a while to let them watch how the fish that they finally see at the dinner table were being handled.
I cannot imagine how life would be like for our children’s children…They get to buy clean fish at the local hypermarket; there is no doubt about that. But then, they will be deprived of the real joy in getting a first hand experience such as like the one we had…. (Research has found that all
fish are diminishing and
there will not be any more fish for us to eat in 40 years).
Who then should be blamed?
A new year for Muslims again..
Wishing Eid Mubarak to everyone!
My other half was watching the BBC news early this morning while I was summoning my might to start examining a postgraduate thesis from a certain university down south. All of sudden, my eyes were transfixed on a certain message scribbled on an ugly wall, flashed on the tube.
Thank you, Allah...Most Gracious, Most Merciful for allowing my fourth book "Beautiful Daffodils" (Seindah Dafodil) to be chosen amongst the list of books purchased by the Ministry of Education for the year 2009.
I love to watch the History Channel 555 on Astro. The series are eyeopeners, knowledge enriched as well as being therapeutic when times are taxing and academic commitments become so stressful and too demanding.
