The legend of three Awang

I was already in a state of half awake and half asleep when it came to the story of 3 'Awang's. The soft and sweet tune of my late Toki's (grandfather) voice had never failed to sedate me and put me into an instant hallucination. Normally that was the last story after so many other stories that I can vaguely remember now being narrated to me. In between those stories my late Toki would also sang the sweet Malay 'gurindam' dan 'syair'. He was very good at telling those stories and sang me those classical repertoire. The stories and the 'syair' became my bedtime lullaby during my childhood time.

In short, the three Awangs in the above mention story were none other than 'Awang telinga besor' , 'Awang tahi mata banyok' and 'Awang jubo tajam'. The last Awang will send my kids to an unstoppable giggling (gelekek) when I told them the story, and they realized the true meaning of that traditional Trengganuspeak. The bizarre but funny names were probably a nom de plume but they were there for a very specific purpose I will tell later. Fasten your seat belt please, the story goes like this (as far as I can remember, probably there are other untold versions somewhere in somebody's brainbox outside there).

The three Awangs lived in the period of gnomes, 'bughong ghede' and probably shared the same era as the more famous Pak Pandir and Mak Andeh. They were a happy bunch of happy-go-lucky wanderers and roamed this ancient land without any particular purpose. One fine day, during one of their long journey, they came to a big river. Across the river they saw a lively marketplace with lot people and most importantly plenty of food. Tempted by all those view plus the empty stomach, they wanted to quickly cross the river. But there was no bridge or sort of to be seen. Luckily, they saw a sampan left unattended nearby. Being the clumsiest and a no brainer, Awang jubo tajam straight away jumped into the sampan and sat on its floor. This is where the fun begin.

The moment Awang jubo tajam sat on the floor, praakkkkkk....his sharp ass (this is what actually means by 'jubo tajam' if you haven't know yet :) straight away punched a big hole into it, allowing the water to gush in and almost sank the sampan. But help was never far away. With quick thinking, his buddy Awang tahi mata banyok took some of his 'tahi mata' and managed to cover the hole thus stopping the sampan from sinking. I was told that his 'tahi mata' was more powerful that our current superglue. Then they faced another problem. There was no peddle to maneuver the sampan. To cut the long story short, Awang telinga besor, didn't want to be left out of action then happily just stretch away his big ears (imagine elephant's ears) and the boat sail smoothly across the river. the end.


That is the story I still remember until this day. The story that was told in a dim light of 'lampu peliga gas' or 'pelita ayam', with crickets and other nocturnal being serenading in the background. The last time I saw my beloved Toki was when I took a month break from my 'jihad' in 1997, and he waved solemnly from his balcony when we were going back abroad. I've never had any chance to meet him again after that.

During this Ramadhan, there won't be any 'meriam buluh' from my Toki. There won't be any 'pelita buluh' either from him and there won't be any early morning visit to his house in the first light of Syawal. But I will always remember his story and all the love he showered to me. I penned down this story so that it won't lost and my kid can still hear and giggle upon listening to this 'pusaka'. I pray that my Toki will be placed among the Al-solehin.

SELAMAT MENYAMBUT RAMADHAN ALMUBARAK!

Note: the above photo was the last photo of my Toki with one of my younger brother.

Lock, stock and barrel

Standing proudly beside the lifeless tiger, gloriously feeling like an English aristocrat claiming his game trophy as a symbol of valor and prestige. But taming the wild beasts within is almost as exasperating and yet another battle to fight for.

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Looking at that rustic photo of me and the tiger, I just can't wipe the smile off my face. I can still vividly remember the proud feeling of standing over the mighty but then-lifeless beast, holding my father's unloaded gun and posing for that momentous photo shot. The triumphant feeling was probably similar to the feeling of blood-gushing adrenalin when a headhunter beheading their enemy's head. Nope...that was too gross. It was more to a sweet memory of an eight years old schoolboy, having the trust of his proud father to guard the lifeless tiger.

That was not the first time though I had that same feeling engulfing me. That same feeling I had every time I were to be at close proximity with these wild beasts or when I came face to face with the same species at my office. You know, that beastly beings that roaming mercilessly, looking for their helpless prey down the corridor.

This is not about the poaching adventure I had during my adolescent years. Tiger is a protected animal and an endangered species (This put them in the same league as prolific writers in our organization). Their numbers is dwindling fast all over the world. If there is no continuous effort to conserve this beautiful animal, our next generation to come will think that a Bengal big cat is as docile as their Persian kitty pet.

That photo was taken in Kemaman, Terengganu circa 1976. It was a normal scene every time my father, who was a 'pegawai mergastua' at the time, coming back from one of his official duty from the deep jungle in the rural area. In almost all occasions, he will bring back with him his game 'trophies'. Some can be very cute life specimens from the other wild species, which later became my pet for a short period of time before officials from his department took away my pet for their safe keeping. If my memory is still good, among the long list of interesting pets that I have was a baby sun bear, a porcupine, 'siamang' and 'mawas', a tiger cub and mousedeers to be exact.

Whenever, my father went out into the jungle, which could last for several days, I can sensed my mother's anxiety, from the somber look on her face. Suddenly, there was no more blabbering to our mischievous activities. I knew, she was very worried and praying for my father's safety. Once I overheard my father related to my mother the story of his junior colleague, during one of his tiger's stake-out (a tree ran, usually a few yard from a carcass previously attacked by a tiger), came down from their tree ran for a midnight wee. In split seconds, an injured tiger leaped out from nowhere and attacked the man. My father and his other colleagues gunned down the tiger, thus saved the poor fellow from becoming a glaring headline in the local newspaper.

I still remember especially during the monsoon seasons, when migratory birds flocked the wet paddy fields or resting on the nipah tree lining the river near my kampong in Terengganu, my father will take me and my younger brother for a river cruise with our grandfather's boat to shoot few birds with his shot gun. It was almost like an annual ritual, a father and sons get together thing. The sound of the gun shot was so thunderous I have to close my ears with both hands. The delectable taste of these birds (we called the white bird 'burong kuto' and 'itik air' for birds that settled on the paddy fields) was awesome.

That was 28 years ago, but even the taste is something that I would still longing for, I wouldn't eat the bird now as the H5N1 is far more precarious. Once when I was considerably stronger, my father taught me to shoot squirrels that infested on the fruits of our villagers. Instead I shot many coconut on the tree as my practice and this really enraged my grandfathers as it turned out most of the coconut trees were his :)

My father has long retired from his service and surrendered the gun to the authority. I've never had any chance to get my hand on the gun since then. Spending a moment or two with my father, some time feeling like a predator hunting for its prey was my lifetime memorable experience. So precious!