remember not to forget me…

the kampung life… something i never grew up with, and only dreamt about.
last weekend, the dream visualised.

never really saw this coming. to live in a wooden house on stilts, with so many windows, overlooking a neatly kept garden and pineapple farms in the background. on top of that, there were chickens and catfish, and a whole lot of family…

atok, my adopted father, and mak cik, my adopted mom, have 15 children, more than 50 grandchildren and 4 great grand children. they can’t even fit into the house anymore. atok was one of the pioneers of the kampung, and he is one of the imams. at 73, he had a slightly high blood pressure; apart from that, he was as fit as a horse.

we ate together on the dining floor, with all the lauk they prepared, and drank fresh juice. we talked about so many different things, and were treated like beloved grandchildren. i miss them so much!

they loaned us their clothes and so we took pictures on kak ayu’s pelamin. mat pui was the man, and intan and i were the twin sisters.

it was so worth it, being a part of their family, and even though we didn’t have anything at hand to offer them as thanks, yet, they were overwhelmed with tears, just because, family was leaving. never was i so honoured.

i love my own family back in PJ, but now i have another to love and to pray for, to talk to and to call my own. I miss you guys!

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