|This is not a 'kampung' (village) house. To be a kampung house,|
it needs to actually be in a kampung. Oh, I see...
When I wrote about Kak Mutiah's home in Tanjung Karang recently, I made a mistake. I called it a kampung (village) house. Because to her, a village house has to be in a village, consisting of small houses (mostly on stilts) not too far apart and generally surrounded with trees, orchards and gardens. I know this because when I drove her back last Tuesday morning, she said, "I don't like living in the kampung houses. I love the open spaces of the paddy fields. To be able to see the Sun rising in the far horizon and later setting in the westerly direction. I like to feel the breeze and the open air." Before affirmatively declaring, "I really love my home!"
As I spent time talking with her mum and dad, I got to know that the present house is not where Kak Mutiah was born. Her father recalled that they were in fact staying in another house, but not far from their present abode. Later, as I was lazing on the front steps, I watched Kak Mutiah's father get on his small motorcycle to ride to the mosque nearby. I was quite clearly visible, but he appears not to notice until just in front of me, he suddenly glanced in my direction and waved. I was a little apprehensive because he was in fact riding rather fast and heading straight for the ditch. Happily he got control of the motorcycle alright and safely rode away.
It was only sometime later did I find out that he has problems seeing because of his cataract. "That is why whenever he wants to ride to town, my mother will ride along in the back to make sure nothing goes wrong." Explained Kak Mutiah, chuckling, "She's like his navigator!"
I think that is the sweetest thing ever...
Have a safe ride today, sunshine, wherever you may be going!
wa min Allah at-taufiq
Hate has no place in Islam
Love will show the Way