I REFER to the article “A Swiss family and the durian” (NST Aug 14), by Ahmad A. Talib. The article brought back fond memories of my childhood days during the Japanese occupation and during the British military administration period.
My police inspector father married the daughter of a Malay girls’ school headmistress in Kampung Changkat Jering, Perak.
My mother followed my father to Kuala Lumpur where he worked. They lived in fully furnished government quarters in Bukit Makamah, Pudu, and my father was stationed at the High Street police headquarters.
He was transferred from town to town and my six siblings and I were brought up in these towns. We were town children, much better off than kampung children at that time.
After she retired, my grandmother bought land in Kampung Banggol Pasir, and my grandfather built a Malay house there. At the back of the house was a small rubber holding, a small river, a padi field and fruit trees in an orchard.
We went back to the kampung every Hari Raya Puasa and Hari Raya Haji. We looked forward to spending time with the kampung boys and girls, who were more adventurous. In contrast, town children were more cowardly.
My mother used to warn us not to climb trees, swim in the river, catch fighting fish in the padi field, chase after chickens and to wear shoes when we played hide and seek.
So we just stood on the river bank and watched others swim and catch fish. We waited for the fruit to drop while they climbed trees to pluck them. We watched while they chased chickens.
How we yearned to join in the fun. We envied them when they enjoyed themselves, laughing and shouting.
My grandmother pitied us but comforted us by saying that our mother was concerned about our safety and feared that we might drown in the river, fall from a tree or be bitten by leeches and snakes.
It is true that there is a difference between adventurous parents in the west and the non-adventurous parents here.
The former want to see their children face challenges in life while the latter discourages them.
The writer said the children who visited the orchard wanted to clear rubbish and clean up the place, but were told to leave it alone as it would be done later. The grandfather explained that it was their culture.
Isn’t keeping a place and its surroundings spick and span also our culture?
Culture is a way of life and cleanliness is an important part of Islam. There is a sunah of the Prophet that said: “Cleanliness is half the Faith” (iman).
It is regrettable that some Muslims are not abiding by the teachings of the Quran.
We throw rubbish indiscriminately. Just the other day, I was driving behind a car, when its front passenger, a woman in a tudung, threw something out the window. I honked and the driver showed me his middle finger.
The authorities have put up signages in highways that read “Don’t throw rubbish on the road”, and in restaurants, we see the signs that read “Don’t spit” and at mosque doors, we see “No Smoking, No Handphone” signs.
Toilets have signs for “Flush after use”, and to stop drivers from speeding, speed breakers or bumps are placed on our roads.
Why do we need signages to remind us what we shouldn’t do? I feel that times have changed from when our grandparents and parents were growing up.
In short, because of our ego or “kiasu” syndrome, we have forgotten common courtesies.
Not only do we do things we know we shouldn’t be doing but we avoid doing things we should be doing.
Malaysians are always talking about change, but we need to change our negative attitudes for better behaviour.
Nor Shahid Mohd Nor, Petaling Jaya, Selangor