There I was banging away on my keyboard creating an entry for the blog and with a swift highlight of the mouse; I lost a whole page! I don’t know what happened, it was just a minute ago. I usually create my entries in word and then copy it over to the blog. This time I didn’t and paid the price for it. So lesson learned.
Anyway, what I was writing about earlier is about how we are only seven days away from celebrating Aidilfitri. Seven days away from lazing in front of the tube watching movie reruns and circus shows.
Seven days away from waking up early in the morning getting dressed in our brand new Baju Melayu or Baju Kurung and for the men head out to the mosque and pray – some for the first time this year while others just because everyone else does it. Also in case you haven’t done so we have only seven days left to pay Zakat Fitrah.
We are also seven days away from eating the rendang, ketupat and lemang with the sumptuous kuah kacang right after we come back from the mosque. I can almost taste it now. The spicy rendang with lemang, and being careful so as not to dirty the Baju Raya. The whole table filled to the brim with what I would say makes fasting worthwhile and somewhat necessary. It is supposed to be just a mid-morning snack but often it turns into a binge.
Just after that quick so called snack we gather together, one big family and inevitable some eyes will well up with tears as we salaam and hug each other asking forgiveness. We look into the aging faces of Paktuk and Maktuk wondering how many years more we will be together. (Zed’s Note: We lost Maktuk last year and will be missing her lots this year) We also look into the excited eyes of the children as they salaam not to seek forgiveness but the green packets which is a tradition that grew from being a Malaysian and has little to do with Aidilfitri.
Then we sit down with our favorite relative - an uncle, a brother or a cousin and we chat away about how we all have grown up and how much things have changed. How we used to be poor. How Abah used to have to scrape together whatever he can to make Raya a celebration for his kids, and how today there are seven cars parked in front of the house and some of the family are staying in a hotel because their kids complain that "rumah Opah panas!". After that we go out and check out the new car Paksu just bought and tell him how great the car looks, while some uncle pours expert advice about cars and you can tell it really is just sour grapes.
Seven days away from opening that bottled rows of Kuih Raya lined up on the table which after the first few begins to taste just the same. And seven days away from having to visit relatives which you would rather not but sometimes are thankful, especially seeing how some of them have grown up into really beautiful ladies.
The hugs, the tears, the advice from our parents and grandparents for the lucky few that still have them will be forthcoming in seven days.
In seven days most of us will be celebrating except for about 200 people.
They will die on the road.
In an accident.
