Home Drift
I can't help having a feeling to be home. Not to go home, but be at home, and not the one I eat and sleep in. The one where there isn't any more troubles. Where my parents used to take us on holidays. To their home town where the grass is kept long because it's natural and the open sewers remind you that it's safe: where ever the stench reaches.
It might have been a poor place, possibly corrupt and primitive for many who live here, but in my deceptive memories, the essence it has with it's banana farms, wide parks, open cultures, mysterious foods and trails and the many different personalities in the large family reels me in my dreams, even if it's still day.
I remember the family home, fit to house more than ten members, modest, but the perfect heirloom. My uncle kept a mini-tree in the front garden. Though it may have been a mini-tree, it was a very tall for it's size, it had a table for itself with all it's inhabitants. There were swings, a few houses, frogs and a person with a wheel barrow. It had it's own mossy grass spreading across it's miniature world, serene, it felt as if it was his dream for a better life.
The garden was roughly concrete, with the common hose attached to the house and high tiled walls with a possible blue pigments. And for Chinese New Year, they would hang a piece of lettuce from the balcony above for the lion dancers to catch. I remember mum saying that they don't do house calls in Australia and that Malaysia celebrated almost all the culture's holidays. Even the neighbours who weren't chinese were invited to watch and we all played with crackle things. They were tiny and had little fire power, but when you threw then to the ground, a snap sound would spark. Jocelin was the youngest and was only five back then. You could see her amazement she had in the reflections of her eyes, the wondrous world, the sheer mechanics of the sparkler and how on earth could the boys be so stupid to let a fire cracker fall in the neighbour's garden. Slight angry they were.
The next best memory was the smell of paper on fire, for grandmother and everybody else they were sending them to. I remember my aunty teaching me in a green dining room no one uses because it's too small how to fold paper gold lumps, what they used for currency back then. Along with other paper goods, we would burn them and they would fly to grandmother and other people. Also in the dining room were two turtles in a container. They were the most content turtles I've ever seen even if they were the only turtles I've ever seen. Above was a look down from the second storey. The bathroom was to the right and the room closest to the road the ladies of my family shared with Aunty Mary and Jocelin. Uncle sing lee ?don't know how to spell? also tried to teach us how to make some hanging things. I never liked it because it was boring and I think I made him upset.
Down stairs was also another family. I think the mother was my mum's sister, but the children had great lego. Loved playing with them, and the lego, but I don't think their parents like me much. The living room was a wide and had a warm colour, nice oranges and yellows. I remember there was one couch that always had plastic on it. It has wooden, weaved arms and nice patterned cushions. There was also a weaved rocking chair, and one of those chairs that u can lean back and relax. I'm not sure what it was made of but I remember it was colourful and it felt like those plastic clothes lines that you can scroll in and out. Their television was huge equipped with every entertainment needs such as a playstation and a VCR (Karaoke machine).
But I have to say the best thing, other than the food, was the park across the road. It always smelt good. It was like it had just rained, which was probably true since it rains every third day. There was also an open sewer running around it, like a mote and a shady plank of wood, a mighty bridge, which you must be qualified to step onto - kids only - . Besides the fact that if you were an adult you could step across. Open sewers are common there and even if I didn't enjoy the smell then, I miss it now. I've experienced smelling rotten decay and smile, reminiscing of my past. The park was a soccer field with large hollow concrete cylindars you could climb into on one end.
If you walked further up, you would uncover an iron casted, swinging bench which although was white, was also tinted with stories; secret only to whome who knew them. Hidden in the fresh trees of the tropics it sat there, staring over the field where generations played soccer. It was marvelous how secure it was, even though it looked quite old and weathered, it was encaved in the protection of the branches around it, holding it from the evolving world. But I wonder, wonder if it would still be there the next time I go back.
I remembered all this today,
From a song by Younha, Home Girl
It might have been a poor place, possibly corrupt and primitive for many who live here, but in my deceptive memories, the essence it has with it's banana farms, wide parks, open cultures, mysterious foods and trails and the many different personalities in the large family reels me in my dreams, even if it's still day.
I remember the family home, fit to house more than ten members, modest, but the perfect heirloom. My uncle kept a mini-tree in the front garden. Though it may have been a mini-tree, it was a very tall for it's size, it had a table for itself with all it's inhabitants. There were swings, a few houses, frogs and a person with a wheel barrow. It had it's own mossy grass spreading across it's miniature world, serene, it felt as if it was his dream for a better life.
The garden was roughly concrete, with the common hose attached to the house and high tiled walls with a possible blue pigments. And for Chinese New Year, they would hang a piece of lettuce from the balcony above for the lion dancers to catch. I remember mum saying that they don't do house calls in Australia and that Malaysia celebrated almost all the culture's holidays. Even the neighbours who weren't chinese were invited to watch and we all played with crackle things. They were tiny and had little fire power, but when you threw then to the ground, a snap sound would spark. Jocelin was the youngest and was only five back then. You could see her amazement she had in the reflections of her eyes, the wondrous world, the sheer mechanics of the sparkler and how on earth could the boys be so stupid to let a fire cracker fall in the neighbour's garden. Slight angry they were.
The next best memory was the smell of paper on fire, for grandmother and everybody else they were sending them to. I remember my aunty teaching me in a green dining room no one uses because it's too small how to fold paper gold lumps, what they used for currency back then. Along with other paper goods, we would burn them and they would fly to grandmother and other people. Also in the dining room were two turtles in a container. They were the most content turtles I've ever seen even if they were the only turtles I've ever seen. Above was a look down from the second storey. The bathroom was to the right and the room closest to the road the ladies of my family shared with Aunty Mary and Jocelin. Uncle sing lee ?don't know how to spell? also tried to teach us how to make some hanging things. I never liked it because it was boring and I think I made him upset.
Down stairs was also another family. I think the mother was my mum's sister, but the children had great lego. Loved playing with them, and the lego, but I don't think their parents like me much. The living room was a wide and had a warm colour, nice oranges and yellows. I remember there was one couch that always had plastic on it. It has wooden, weaved arms and nice patterned cushions. There was also a weaved rocking chair, and one of those chairs that u can lean back and relax. I'm not sure what it was made of but I remember it was colourful and it felt like those plastic clothes lines that you can scroll in and out. Their television was huge equipped with every entertainment needs such as a playstation and a VCR (Karaoke machine).
But I have to say the best thing, other than the food, was the park across the road. It always smelt good. It was like it had just rained, which was probably true since it rains every third day. There was also an open sewer running around it, like a mote and a shady plank of wood, a mighty bridge, which you must be qualified to step onto - kids only - . Besides the fact that if you were an adult you could step across. Open sewers are common there and even if I didn't enjoy the smell then, I miss it now. I've experienced smelling rotten decay and smile, reminiscing of my past. The park was a soccer field with large hollow concrete cylindars you could climb into on one end.
If you walked further up, you would uncover an iron casted, swinging bench which although was white, was also tinted with stories; secret only to whome who knew them. Hidden in the fresh trees of the tropics it sat there, staring over the field where generations played soccer. It was marvelous how secure it was, even though it looked quite old and weathered, it was encaved in the protection of the branches around it, holding it from the evolving world. But I wonder, wonder if it would still be there the next time I go back.
I remembered all this today,
From a song by Younha, Home Girl
Labels: emotions
posted by Hache at
4:55 PM
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