It was 10pm in the evening as we (abah, my little brother and I) traversed a very quiet road from Tok Uban to Pasir Mas town. I gazed upon the night sky, recognizing each constellations that I knew, smiling back to the moon (sounds crazy but yeah I did it anyway), and winked my eyes to the stars; for Kelantan’s astronomical sphere have never let me down especially during a dry season.
It was silent and tranquil along the way, until abah braked the car for us to get a crisper view of what’s happening outside. I made that face expression of ‘eh bakpo brek ni bah?’ sambil menggaru-garu kepala yang tidak gatal.
“Weh laa banyoknyo kgheto. Caekak ado pasa malae maso nih..? ado gapo ni abah?” asked my brother curiously. I looked around, and I saw nothing but roof zincs being erected to block my view at the other side of the road.
And it was only after we heard some loud gendang noise that we eventually found out what’s what.
“Oghe ggocoh,” abah said. Yes, the gendang noise was quite familiar for us. I remembered on how abah persuaded my brother and I to learn muay thai, formally years before. At an instant, adrenaline rushed its way out, my eyes expanded and we tried to have a peek of ‘oghe ggocoh’ from inside the moving car.
As abah continued our journey to Pasir Mas, I pondered upon a story told by some random old folks about this ‘ggocoh’ event. We were quite aware that there are several ‘ggocoh’ occasion being held a few times a year in Kota Bharu, both legally and not.
But this one is in Pasir Mas (which is quite rare, I think), and we were totally thrilled with the heat in the air. How I missed those ‘ggocoh’ moments… the bleed and sweat, the fast-beat-yet-motivating gendang, the gelanggang, the killer kick and elbow moves, the opponents, the everything…!
The point is, people do get excited when they experienced aforementioned experiences told by others.
Like what happens when you just got back to your hostel from a week-long ‘pulang bermalam’ and you just can’t stop talking and chatting with le friends during the break from maghrib to isyak in the surau. (and the seniors will shhuuuhh you because the surau is so noisy with chatters)
Like what happens when you got excited if le friends share those ‘sekolah rendah agama’ moments of playing cepers, baling selipar, tamiya, beyblades, crushgears, pokemon cards, and main kejar-kejar.
Like what happens when Syeikh (a friend of mine now in Imperial) shared those funny gestures about Upin Ipin by some Indonesian fellow in
and I got extremely excited because I experienced that in the first place. Mecca
This euphoric-like feeling of excitedness, I termed it ‘mutual experience’. <-- sukati aku je haha.
credit picture: here
And I felt that ‘mutual experience’ dearly when I happened to read this good book of ‘Growing Up inTrengganu’ by a fella named Awang Goneng, though I’m not a Trengganuian either. Dah lama pun baca buku ni tapi baru nak buat review heh…
Copy paste (from the back of the book): ‘Growing Up in Trengganu started life as the blog of Awang Goneng (pen name of writer Wan A. Hulaimi) until it was found to be too good to exist only in cyberspace. Through a collection of memories retold in glorious colour, Awang Goneng evokes the pleasures of a kampung childhood for the benefit of new generations brought up in air-conditioned condominiums. Listen to the azan call to prayer from the surau of Haji Mat Kerinci, order satay with toast for breakfast, meet notables such as Tun Long the laundry man and Cik Wook Payong Locoh, whose umbrella turned inside out in a storm, and relive the pleasure of hearing the rain hammer down on a corrugated-iron roof while reading The Beano and eating kuih putu. Sultans, sweetmeat sellers and shopkeepers all act as springboards as you meander through Trengganu history, and by the end of this book you will have painlessly mastered the Trengganuspeak that foils even fellow Malaysians.’
So who is this Awang Goneng? Yes, you might always find his articles in viewpoints section of the new Sunday times, babbling about cultural and language and current issues whatnot… uh huh, just googled (since when google has become a verb ey?) out his name, no worries.
Abah loves to tell stories of the past which we would always look forward to hear more of those. Sometimes he recalled on how deep into the forest he went, with an intention only to find the hardest buoh getoh, a rare one, to compete in a game with his schoolmates. And once abah had said,
“Hargo kasut skoloh abah dulu pak riya milae ploh sen (rm4.90) jah… kasut rrayo hok tu, kasut skoloh pon hok tu lah jugok….”
Awang Goneng said the same thing in his writing, but abah don’t even know who’s this chap…. I smiled, for reasons unknown, for feelings uncertain, for I don’t even know what stories I can tell to my children in the future. How…errr… pelik, haha.
"The sad things about Hari Raya was that it came and went all in a day. And the sadder thing about it was the way it dropped us again with a plop into the middle of everyday reality. Father had a way with Hari Raya based on the state of his economy: he'd buy us only shoes hat we could wear again daily to school, so our shoes were mostly white Bata, and the same too applied to the colour of shirts so, in parts, we were on our Hari Raya outfit throughout the year". Page 25. =.=
True enough; Awang Goneng does with words what Lat does with pictures. I’ve heard worse (I mean, those incomprehensible dialect of the people in hulu Trengganu… KoleBrang, maybe), so let’s just have some good poem (if I might say) read, will ya? Read this out loud, guys… XD
Pak Ok kaki kecok
Dia dok wak dok
Tahang tu dok ok
Cari Mak Jeng Bbatu Burok
Nok mitok tulong urok
Bila ttemung tepak dudok
Dia pulok takdok setabok
Jjalanglah dia cakting-cakting
Cari bining keliling pusing
Nak mitok urok keting
Jjalang ddalang panah ddering
Pak Ok jerloh ddalang lokang
Sakit naik sapa pinggang
Adoh! Adoh! Dia ngerrang
Ba’pelah nasibku ni sunggoh malang
Bila bini balik jengok
Tengok dia tengoh ggosok
Dia terus suka selok
Sapa dok buleh ok
Tulah, Guane gamok?