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Postcard from Zaharah: Fun and laughter at carnival

AFTER a three-year hiatus due to Covid-19, the Malaysian Carnival is back at the vast and scenic Tun Abdul Razak Rubber Research Centre in Brickendonbury, eastern England.

The summer air was once again filled with traditional Malay music and songs, and the aroma of satay burning on the grill.

The carnival has, over the past three decades, been synonymous with people getting together, meeting old friends and enjoying Malaysian food.

It was double the fun for those whose trips back home had previously been restricted due to the pandemic.

The carnival this year was held in July, instead of the beginning of September to mark National Day.

Walking through colourful tents and sidestepping picnic mats and baskets spread over the lawn of TARRC, famous for its research into the use of rubber, I was thankful that the event had returned in a timely fashion.

I found a spot near a "throw a water bomb" activity. I sat down and reflected on the times that passed over the last few years, thankful for the opportunity for my family and I to be here.

I watched my 31-year-old son demonstrating silat under the shade of the imposing TARRC building.

He was 5 when he took part in a race to fill his goody bags with sweets. Back then, my girls took part in cultural performances and my other son played football in the field, now used as a parking lot.

In those days, for the annual gathering, which was known as the Malaysian Family Day, several coaches were provided from points in London, such as Malaysia Hall in Bryanston Square, to bring day trippers to the countryside venue.

For those who took the train, shuttle buses were provided.

Visitors who took the coaches as strangers later became friends along the way, sharing their stories and experiences over food, just as how Malaysians would do within five minutes of getting to know each other.

There would be lots of entertainment. Sometimes cultural troupes would be flown in, with celebrities and singers to entertain us. Back then, the event was not too confined by budget.

One year, we even had the king as a special guest.

Food stalls selling nasi lemak, mee goreng and traditional kueh had always been huge attractions.

From time immemorial, queues to satay stalls had always been long.

There were Satay Kajang Lani one year, Satay from Puji-Puji another year, and this time, members of my family took turns to queue up for almost two hours to get to RD Satay.

Well done to Nik and Huda, who scrapped their last satay from the grill at 5pm, turning away disappointed customers. By then he must have sold thousands of sticks.

This year, Roti King was also a crowd-puller, especially for those yearning for their roti canai and murtabak.

One year, coaxed by friends, I took a chance and prepared my mee bandung, which suffice to say, had people begging for the last drop of the gravy.

No matter what was being sold, all stalls would be cleared by 3pm by visitors, including by those who brought their own picnic baskets.

There was a year when the carnival was opened to residents in the area.

People came in droves, wanting to know more about the sounds, sights and smells. Naturally, they were treated to a taste of Malaysia and also joined in the poco-poco and joget lambak dance sessions.

In another year, British veterans who had served in Malaysia during the confrontation were invited to join in.

There was a stall featuring photographs of their days in the tropical jungle. This piqued the interest of younger visitors, who came home with a bit of a history lesson.

This time around, sadly, only a few veterans in their uniforms turned up. This is understandably so, as most are in their late 70s. I was made to understand that some had fallen victim to Covid-19.

Old friends Malcolm turned up with Keith and his wife Kim (the couple met in Malaysia). Sadly, Malcom's wife, Sally, whom he met while serving in Melaka, had died a few years earlier.

Sally and Kim used to enjoy the joget lambak.

They made their trip worthwhile after making their long journey from Doncaster for a fun-filled day with Malaysians.

I was missing old familiar faces, such as Pak Cik Yahya Bahari and his basket of fruits and sweets.

He was always smart in his suit, never without his songkok and would walk around to distribute goodies to children.

Pak Cik Yahya was one of the members of Kelab Melayu London (comprising old Malay sailors and army personnel) who joined the bus from the clubhouse at 100 Cricketfield Road. Unfortunately, the club is now no more.

There was also Pak Cik Ghani, who came with fruits from his garden.

Sorely missed was Pak Mat Abu, a British army veteran, and his late wife Kak Siah, who never missed the chance to be with fellow Malaysians. Pak Mat is now in a nursing home nearby.

For some, this was their first time. And they were not disappointed — the weather had been gracious with the sun out all day.

Sitting on their mats, they enjoyed the performance by PhD student Jefri Ramli, who surprised the audience with his Bollywood number, prompting an elderly lady on her wheelchair to get up and dance.

Apart from taking videos of the event, I didn't do much, what with three grandchildren to keep an eye on. One day, they too will participate in the events and hopefully keep the spirit of Malaysia alive here thousands of miles away from home.

I have had fun times over the years, from emceeing, coaching children to sing patriotic songs and doing the joget lambak to sharing my mee bandung with the visitors.

Now, it was a time to relax and enjoy the celebration.

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