“Thank you
for flying with us. Have a nice day.”
Nothing but
the bustling airport filled with unfamiliar faces greeted me as I collected my
luggage and tried to shake the weariness of sitting down for hours in an
airplane off. The only consolation I had was that a beautiful air stewardess
approached me to offer some assistance. She asked me if there was anything that
I needed help with to which I, being a proud native, reluctantly declined. I knew my way around the city well enough. I walked
through the scanners of the airport and found myself in a familiar landscape.
Skyscrapers and couture malls blotted the skyline while expensive restaurants
lined up along the roadsides.
I dragged
my luggage with me out of the bustling airport and made my way to the taxi
stand. I could have used the public transport, but I wasn’t in the mood to be
packed like sardines in a can to be transported to my destination. Instead, I
was more willing to fork out a pretty large sum of money, possibly amounting to
about RM 150, if the fares hadn’t changed all that much since my last visit
home at any rate.
After some time, an old yellow taxi pulled up
in front of me. Out from it came an elderly man, possibly in his 50’s or 60’s,
with a kindly face.
“Good evening, sir,” he greeted me. “Where can I take you to?”
“Good
evening,” I replied. I handed him a scrap of paper with an address written on
it. It was to a small town at the edge of the state. “Are you willing to go
there? It’s a bit far off from the city.”
His face lit when he saw the paper and he
smiled. “Of course, sir,” he said. “It’s along the way to my hometown; I was
planning on going home after today anyway.”
He helped me with my luggage and I got into the
passenger’s seat beside him. It was a pleasant ride, and we had a good
conversation going on about the festive season. It wasn’t long before the
concrete jungle we were in started to thin and I could see the sky and some
trees again. There were quite a number of cars on the road, which was no
surprise at all, because most people would be rushing to get back home.
We reached the town about two hours later. I
asked him how much the fare was, but he didn’t want to charge me. I insisted,
and gave him RM 200 instead. He thanked me and wished me a safe journey home,
and I reciprocated the gesture by doing the same. I watched as his car
disappeared after a turn and took out my mobile phone to call a friend. While
waiting, I took a walk around the area.
It was an ordinary town; it had a small
shopping small and coffee shops were aplenty. I remember, as a child, my father
would sometimes drive the family out to eat at one of those fast food
restaurants. It was simple food but, to us, it was luxurious enough and we
would be so happy. Rather than being fancy, it was more for a change of pace;
as much as I loved my mother’s cooking, having the same kind of theme for lunch
and dinner everyday can get tiring. Of
course, as I grew older and started to live in the big city away from home, the
fast food became commonplace for me and lost their novelty. However, home
cooked food was the one I started to look forward to each day; they had swapped
roles and it was kind of ironic, now that I think about it but that is a story
for another occasion.
After
some time, my friend finally arrived in his gray car. It was the car his
parents gave him when he graduated from university. We exchanged friendly greetings and made our
way home. It wasn’t long before we left the town behind us and the scenery of
small buildings and old cars changed to that of dirt roads, red earth and a lot
of greenery. He dropped me off within walking distance from my house, as he
stays a little further away from me. I thanked him and wished him well. It was
a long journey all the way from the airport, and by this time I was very
weary. However, the arrival to my
village gave me an injection of energy.
My village was definitely a sight for sore
eyes. There were children playing and laughing together, some of them were even
chasing the chickens around and in between the houses. I felt as if the place
had been left out of the flow of development; it was the same place I grew up
in years ago, untouched by time, except on the faces of its citizens. I greeted
the elderly folk as I walked past their houses; I recognized all of them, but I
don’t doubt some of them don’t find my face familiar anymore. After all, it had been a long time since I
last came back and I did change a lot.
The feeling of the earth under my shoes was really
refreshing as opposed to the usual concrete pavement I was so used to. I had also almost forgotten how the natural
cool breeze felt like as it caressed my face gently. The sound of chickens clucking
around as well as ducks quacking in the lake nearby was really music to my
ears.
Finally, in front of me there stood a
traditional house; it was made of wood and raised a few feet off the ground on
stilts. There were elaborate carved patterns on the pillars and balconies as
well as the railings. In front, there was a flight of stairs leading up to the
front porch, where there was an old rocking chair and a wooden wind chime. At the foot of the stairs there was a shoe
rack with some slippers in it. As I approached the house, I could make out the
delicious smell of pandan mixed with cooked rice and a myriad of spices that my
family loved to use. There were no
fences, much less a doorbell, but the inhabitants of the house already knew of
my arrival. Standing in front of the door were my beloved parents, and behind
them my siblings.
I dropped my bags and ran up to my parents and
gave them big hugs. I bent down and kissed both their hands. The firm hands
that I remember were already starting to spot wrinkles and their beaming faces
belie the harsh work they have been doing.
“Bu, Yah,
adik dah balik,” I said. I hugged them even tighter still. Every child may
one day dream of living away from home, but there will only ever be one place one
can truly call home; a place where one will always be welcomed back to no
matter where one goes or what one does.
“I’m home,” I said. I’m home.
-Written by,
Terence
Terence
