At Homestay Kampung Raga in Kedah, Loong Wai Ting enjoys the village life — picking fruit, horse-riding and relaxing by a stream
THE sound of a durian hitting the ground was heard nearby. My friend and I looked at each other for a brief moment before we split up in search of the thorny fruit. Like a pair of detectives, we searched the grounds of the fruit orchard belonging to a friend of our foster parents in Kampung Raga, in the Yan district in Kedah.
It’s peak durian season and we’re lucky that we had picked the correct date to visit this tiny village, an hour’s drive from Sungai Petani. From the corner of my eyes, I saw some pale green thorns visible from among the bushes.
Excitement coursed through my veins as I pushed aside the long grass and picked up my first durian of the day. I smiled from ear to ear as I showed my friend my prize. Our excitement wasn’t over as another dull thud could be heard — another durian had just hit the ground.
Wasting no time, we raced each other to see who would grab the durian first. Standing not too far away, our foster parents laughed at our antics, two silly city girls dashing around looking for durians.
FIRST IMPRESSION
Growing up in the city, I’ve never experienced staying in a kampung. Imagine being surrounded by green fields that stretch as far as the eyes can see; the village is surrounded by towering mountains. You breathe fresh air every morning.
The folk here are some of the nicest and friendliest people you can meet. They lead a simple life and open their homes to outsiders who would love to experience kampung life.
We made the four-hour journey to the north yesterday, looking forward to the village experience and to meet our foster parents. A man of few words, our “dad”, Pak Zul, waits for us at the entrance of his village on the day we “check in”. He waves as soon as he spots us coming up the slope, our luggage in tow.
Our “mom”, Mak Noraini, is at home, preparing for our visit. The first thing Pak Zul asks us is: “Are you girls hungry? Let’s go home and have some lunch.” We immediately feel so welcomed by Pak Zul’s hospitality.
From the entrance of the village, we cross a small bridge, where a stream flows lazily beneath. On my left is a community hall, where village functions are held. Opposite the hall is a two-storey mosque with wood architecture. All around us, fruit-bearing branches of trees hang low, inviting us to sample the fruit.
Curious kids on modified bicycles stand looking at us, while neighbours smile and wave as we pass their homes. Used to receiving guests from afar, the neighbours call out to us and invite us to their homes for tea and snacks.
HOME AT LAST
Pak Zul’s house is less than 500 metres from the mosque. Turning into the last small path, his blue house stands among shady fruit trees such as mangosteen and, of course, durian. I love the peaceful setting of the house and compound.
Hearing the commotion out front, Mak Noraini comes out to greet us on the front porch. Taking our hands in hers, she lead us to the living room, where she serves us tea and snacks.
“Lunch will be ready in a short while. Please have some tea,” she says as she pushes a cup of sweet black tea into my hands.
Our parents are well into their sixties but display the same vigour as people half their age. They move around, tending to their modest home and the little garden. Chickens roam free in the compound of their home, a house which Mak Noraini’s siblings also share. Pak Zul works as a warden at a primary school not far from their home.
While waiting for lunch, Pak Zul shows us to our room, located beside the living room.
Our room is quite large for two people. A queen-sized bed occupies one side of the room, while a cupboard full of clothes belonging to his daughter, who now works in the city, stands in another corner.
The room has an ensuite bathroom. There is no water heater, so we bathe in icy cold water in the morning. The village gets its water supply from nearby Gunung Jerai, one of Kedah’s highest peaks.
Since it is still early for lunch, our foster parents decide to take us to their friend’s durian orchard for a tour. If only you can see my excitement!
OUT IN THE VILLAGE
Lunch is a sumptuous spread of gulai asam pedas, kerabu manggis and gulai kawah batang pisang (a specialty of Kedah). After filling our stomachs, my friend and I set out to explore the village. We return to the community hall to find a group of people standing underneath a rambutan tree, its fruit hanging low, ready to be picked.
Here, we meet Puan Norfishah again, an expert kuih maker in the village. She’s making kuih karas for tea. This traditional Kedah kuih does not resemble pastry or cake. Instead, the brittle kuih karas has the texture of a cracker or fried vermicelli.
Earlier, Norfishah had prepared a bowl of rice flour mixed with sugar and a bit of water. Now, she begins to pour the sticky batter into a sieve fashioned out of a coconut shell. The mixture flows into a wok of piping hot oil.
As the batter begins to cook, Norfishah tells me to form it into a trangle by folding it. Under her watchful eyes, I follow her instructions diligently.
HORSE-RIDING
“Are you sure the horse can bear my weight?” I ask the hostler at the Ultimate Horse Training and Stud Farm as he steadies Johanna, the brown mare which I will be riding later.
Taking a deep breath, I climb the small steps and throw one leg across Johanna’s sturdy back and place my bottom on the black saddle.
Steadying myself, I grab hold of the reins and rest both my feet in the stirrups. Straightening my back, I give my horse a nudge and we begin our slow trot in the outdoor enclosure. This is my first horse-riding experience and I can’t hide both my excitement and nerves. However, it is important not to show fear as horses are said to be able to sense our emotions. With the hostler nearby and guiding us, I know that I am in safe hands.
The farm, located at the end of Kampung Raga, is a 10-minute walk from Pak Zul’s house, past a fruit orchard belonging to another villager.
One of the attractions in Kampung Raga, the farm is home to more than 10 well-kept horses. There are also other animals such as deer, ostrich and a super-friendly small parrot, which loves to sit on guests’ shoulders.
Our trot lasts for 10 minutes. With a click of the tongue, we guide Johanna back to her stable for her rest. To reward Johanna for her good walk, I feed her grass and dried hay.
RELAXING EVENING
In the evening, we return to Pak Zul’s house. But before that, we stop by the small stream that we had passed by earlier.
Following small steps fashioned out of rocks from the stream, we walk closer to the water’s edge to soak our tired feet.
We spot fish swimming upstream but they are too fast for us to catch. Cool stream water flows between our toes and we can’t help wishing for a cup of hot coffee to go with our relaxing evening. And maybe a good book too.
Soon, the call for maghrib (twilight) prayers can be heard from the loudspeakers at the mosque nearby. Gathering our things, we trace our way back to Pak Zul’s house for Mak Noraini’s sumptuous dinner.
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