The Cipans in Ganu

SCENE: A small neighbourhood cyber cafe in KT.

Contents: Eight PCs, half occupied by neighbourhood kids; two servers, one large fridge and the operator's table.

Half of the remaining PCs are occupied by my son and I while the last two are being used by 2 young men in their 20s playing FIFA 2005 on the network.

The one beside me is sitting cross-legged and howls with delight everytime he scores, bellowing a running commentary over his shoulder to his mate across the room. Way across the room.

"Bod-doh anak buah aku dok ambik!"
"Hoh, comeii gol - mu dok nengok semulo - comel hoh ...!"

... just a few gems being tossed around freely for us to ponder upon their superior keen wit and enthusiasm.

I normally go to the CC at Jalan Tok Lam - it is air-conditioned, low-lighted and arranged so as to afford the maximum amount of privacy possible in the space available. But today it would be a futile exercise because the roads to town are jammed solid by vehicles bearing number plates mainly from out of Terengganu.

The CC we're patronizing is solar-lighted and fan-cooled (one ceiling fan and a huge industrial-sized stand fan just five feet from my right ear.

The PC screens placed so as to afford good viewing angles to the operator - a woman in her 30s clad in the standard Ganu tudung.

This is to discourage surfing for porn, I gather - as most of the clientele are children of schooling age.

As expected most of them are shooting it up in Counterstrike, trying to shoot it in on FIFA 2005 or cruising on Midtown. No shooting-off wads allowed in here.

I'm the only one blogging while my son (15 years old) tries to get picked up by an older woman somewhere on MySpace. Truly takes after his father, that one ...

My nether-snout, normally unruly during fasting, falls asleep on cue.

This CC is located beside the KT-KB main trunk road. The cars whizzing barely 10 metres away from this flimsy structure will reach Pulau Rusa in just a few minutes - Pulau Rusa being the kampung famed for the beauty of the local lasses.

I should know - I have relatives who live there. They have 4 daughters, all good-looking and the source of much of the conversation and longing among the young men in the area.

One of the daughters was supposedly wooed by her own secondary school teacher - actually the role of seducer was surprisingly taken up by the girl - in strict accordance to the local code, of course.

After long bouts of eyelash fluttering, deftly timed lingering glances and topped by the few rare yearning looks on the part of the damsel, the poor bloke (fully believing that he was the suitor and not the other way around) responded ardently in honourable fashion by sending in his parents and they duly got engaged.

All was well until news of the beauty of the newly-engaged damsel attracted the attention of a local hero, recently back from his studies overseas; son of a wealthy songket merchant with good looks and a dashing car.

The girl, flighty by nature, responded to his overtures and the family crisis loomed up in due course.

Two months to the scheduled wedding date, she declared to her father that she no longer wished to go on with the wedding. Unfortunately for her, the father, a local headmaster, was by no means unaware of the gossip surrounding his daughter's gallivanting around town with her new beau.

He was more than ready for her.

In the sharp exchange that followed, the daughter was more or less told off by her father and that ...

a. She was not the prettiest girl in Pulau Rusa,

b. The father knows of at least ten other girls much prettier than her,

c. The schoolteacher was the best she can realistically hope for,

and the clincher,

d. As long as her fiance wanted her, she will be married to no other.

The scenes that followed, leading up to the wedding day, became family legend. The bride refused to change into her wedding finery and instead kept on her dingy T-shirt and kain batik even as the guests started arriving for the akad nikah ceremony.

On being apprised of the situation, the father of the bride walked into his daughter's room and ordered everyone out. Voices, though loud were barely intelligible, and it was only after the politest of guest could pretend no more that nothing untoward was happening, that the father emerged to signal to the mother that she should bring in the mak andam into the room.

The two women found the bride dark in anger, but docile enough to be dressed.

The rest of the ceremony went off as planned and, unlike Bollywood tragedies, the couple went on to live happily in the suburbs with 4 lovely children to this date.

What actually transpired in the room, of course, remained largely a mystery but some accounts emerged into daylight some years later.

Apparently the father told his reluctant daughter that if she continued to behave that way, he will take it upon himself to dress her up and he wouldn't be caring much if the whole kampung knows it and also whether he does the job properly.

The clincher apparently came when he reminded her that if that should come to pass and the stories are repeated with glee across the whole town, her new boyfriend's parents will not want to touch her with a galah rakit (barge-pole).

Come Hari Raya, I will make my way to their house, probably - there's normally some satay and really good nasi minyak. I think that's what some of us surreptiously enjoy when we make our rounds on Hari Raya - meeting all these fine upstanding citizens and knowing all the stories that lurk in their backgrounds.

We are, after all, heartless gossips most of us.

It's 2.15pm and the place is deserted. The kids have gone back to their homes for the midday prayers. Only Klang Valley hard-core sinners like my son and I will naturally procrastinate in this matter. We continue to uphold this image religiously.

For the pious Ganu guy, his daily routine revolves around the 5 prayer times the way pilgrim perambulate the Kaabah in the holy rite of tawaf. Klang Valley Muslims try to cram everything within the same half-hour.

Lady Cipan has called - we (meaning me, as the designated driver) are to brave the insane jams, now choking the grace out of the hordes of fasting drivers, in order to make the following purchases :-

a. A pair of shoes for the 2-year old

b. Songkoks for all of them except for the 5 year old - apparently all current songkoks in the house are no longer fit to be worn due to heavy usage. It sounded unlikely to me at first but my eldest (15 years old) assures me that it's true and lists out the occasions where they actually wear their songkoks. That boy has got the makings of a good con-man.

c. Disposable napkins - yeah, we are part of the polluting populace.

And my cellphone has given up the ghost, after I dropped it on the floor upon waking up.

Looks like a real heavy day - then again, that's what being tested really mean, innit?

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Sir Cipan Nougat-Tenuk extends the very best Selamat Hari Raya greetings to all readers.

Special hugs and kisses (and a few well-placed gropes) to Lily the ultra-seductive Bitch-Goddess.

Chaste kisses (no tongue, I swear it, Lils) to thinktankgirl and manly handshakes to skiva. Drive safely, please and thanks for all the support.