An Old Fogey's Raya

When I was a kid, I used to wonder what it was that grown-ups spend so much time yakking about during Raya visits.

I mean, once I've downed that F&N oren, polished off all the sweets from the festive kuih raya tray and munched through endless handfuls of peanuts, I was ready to go.

But no, the adults have loads to talk about, says my mum sweetly as she gives me a discreet but really painful pinch on my thigh whenever I forgot myself and pestered her.

Trying to follow the conversations proved futile as there were too many references to past events and people that I knew nothing about.

Thankfully, most households we visited had kids my age, so we would normally leave the adults alone and made friends.

As time goes by, I realise that mostly everyone gets nostalgic over their younger days during this time - and old fogeys are the worst - hence the interminable conversations.

Since the Minx says I'm getting close to being an old fogey now, I think it's about time I imposed some of my Raya memories on you lot.
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The first inkling we would have of Hari Raya drawing close, would be the arrival of the soft drinks at our house.

Always a cheerful event -anything to break the monotony of the seemingly endless days of puasa - the deliveryman would call out in a singsong Chinese accent as soon he pulls up in the front.

"Ayer botol! Ayer botol" (old spelling, meh - in fact, this whole posting should be in sepia tones).

All of us would cluster around excitedly as he lugged the crates from his becha (rickshaw) into our store-room while my mum would supervise and keep us kids out of the way.

In those days soft drinks were only sold in glass bottles - the bottles are returned and your deposit repaid minus breakage, and they are washed and reused at the canning factory.

Historical footnote - A huge F&N factory used to stand beside the Bangsar/Brickfields traffic lights junction - the site is now part of the Sentral complex.

For the Raya celebrations, they are bought by the crate.

The crates were of seasoned wood, the yellow paint faded to a nondescript puke beige on its sides.

They are partitioned into 24 slots where the capped bottles stood soldier-like in three neat rows of eight - the one in the pic is the modern one of 15 per crate

(Pic "borrowed" from sparklette.net)

Each crate will carry bottles of the same flavour, though the sundry shop tauke was more than happy to mix-n-match a crate or two for his regulars.

My Dad would order the same flavours every year - they were usually Fraser & Neaves (F & N).

He'd order the bright Orange Squash, dark and broody Sarsaparilla, sparkling clear Ice Cream Soda and cheery red Cherry which was a pretty new flavour those days.

In those days Coca-Cola and Pepsi were newbies and were considered too pahit (bitter) for our teensy throats.

We (the kids, that is) would actually count out the whole inventory and would always bitch about there being too many Orange Squash bottles compared to the others.

Apparently most adults of that era preferred orange drinks.

The F&N Cherry was highly prized by the girls - *snigger* but I'm not kidding, it's really true - and my eldest sister would abuse her position as an almost-adult by opening up the storeroom and hiding a whole crate of them under some rags and other stuff.

My brother Jap and I, being junior citizens and the most oft-bullied, would sneak in when no one's looking and squirrel away a few bottles of our own.

I was partial to the fresh and tarty (heh!) taste of Ice Cream Soda while Jap was a Sarsaparilla fan.

Funnily enough, we graduated to vodka and Guinness respectively during our hedonistic phase later in life.

On Raya morning, each of us will be given the chance to pick a whole bottle for ourselves and it was supposed to last for the whole day.

As a result all of us became highly proficient at uncapping a bottle with minimum damage to the metal cap - and then re-capping our partially-full "personal" bottles.

When our friends came around, we would jump at the chance of opening up a brand-new bottle of our choice.

We would then sit around munching peanuts and discuss the various merits of soft drinks with an intensity that would have put professional wine-tasters to shame.




Besides the aforementioned brands there was the dark tea-coloured Sinalco - it's actually orangeade but alas is no longer available here though they're still in business in Europe.










Then there was Green Spot which apparently only rich kids would drink because the bottles are so small compared to the others

(psst ... catch that bloke trying to feed the girl his hotdog);



... and of course RC Cola which was the forerunner of Coke and Pepsi later on.



But we were not snobs ... we'd just as intensely discuss the merits of different sirap kordial at the homes of friends who were less well-off.


Anyway that's what we thought meaningful conversations ought to be about.

It doesn't seem to change much as we grew up though - the hottest topics still remain the best places to eat and drink. Funny that.

Anyway Hari Raya would also inevitably remind me of a particular conversation some years back.

Infected by a rare burst of Raya-related nostalgia, I decided to get some fireworks for my kids to light up the night with when we get back to Terengganu.



It wasn't just any fireworks that I wanted.


It was those primitive, red Chinese stuff that look like tiny dynamite sticks all wrapped in waxed paper and a mythical Chinese lady wreathed in clouds on the cover.


Yes, it's the stuff that I used to play with in my childhood.


Somehow I managed to get my hands on some - incredibly enough at the neighbourhood surau during a terawih prayer session.

Mind you there was even a comprehensive order list - I could swear that the only thing missing from it were Stinger missiles.

Anyway in a conversation with an uncle in Ganu some days later, I was crowing somewhat about this minor feat when he leaned forward and said quietly,

Abang Din: "Do you remember a few years back, a story that came out in the papers? On Harian Metro?"

Me : "Um, what story would that be?"

AD : "This was the one about the biggest fireworks seizure in the East Coast ever. By the Ganu police here in KT."

Me : "Oh yeah, I remember now. There was a picture of a warehouse where they found the stuff. Yeah, the whole place was filled with the stuff."

AD : "That's the one. There was a couple of tonnes of the stuff."

Me : "What of it?"

AD : "Do you recall the guy's name who was arrested by the police?"

Me : "Not really, no. Why?"

AD : "Well ... *snicker ..., it was me."

I got an earful from Lady C later on for my ROTFLMAO.



Anyway, SELAMAT HARI RAYA all ... eat well, laugh loud and drive safely.

Oh, I almost forgot our traditional Raya Greeting Card ...

... it's a special one this year ...

...

,,

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SELAMAT HARI RAYA!!!!

dari Pertubuhan Seni Silap Gayung Malaysia