Most of my kenangan or sweet memories are in Kuala Lumpur.One of the places that I have so much of sweet memories is at Jalan Raja Bot. It is next to Pasar Chow Kit. In the mid 70s and 80s Jalan Raja Bot is the place to go in the evening. It was a part of national past time to be at Jalan Raja Bot whether to shop around the corner or to just to dine. The food a plenty, the people were friendly. Apek sell fruits, Nyonya also sell fruits, the Pak Cik and Mak Cik, the Abang and Kakak will sell anything from kuih to nasi goring, from nasi ayam to satay, the satay definitely a must have, there is no need to go as far as Kajang. No Indian or Mamak stalls along Jalan Raja Bot except one that appears only day time.
The Mamak sell this sweet blended ice, mixed with Santan. Santan on the other hand is a sort of coconut milk mix with noodles like pudding. To sweeten it, it is mix with gula melaka, a sort of brown sugar. Once all this is done, it is known as Cendol. This Cendol was also a target of business rivals, they sabotage alleging the Santan contains worms. The worms kept in a small pouch in the santan is a form of a secret recipe to keep the Santan lasting till evening. The fact is food mix with coconut milk will turn sour by the end of the day.
I always watched him doing the cendol. One hand holding the bowl underneath the stool, the other hand pushing the ice over the blade on top of the stool. Everyday his expression is the same. He doesn’t talk much. He stand by the stall awaiting the customers, on and off he seems to be busy cleaning his work space. There is always no whiter than white towel hanging on his custom made trishaw. You see him cleaning his space of work again and again. When there is no one to serve, he will just keep standing. You do not see him curi tulang, sitting or squatting, he is always ready to take orders, “ Berapa? Satu dua.” The regular Malay customers somehow say it in Tamil. “Mamak!! Cendol Rendek!!”
From time to time I heard him talking to my uncle who is 5 years older than me. Every time when he speaks, you hear him saying, ...India!!! All I heard is India... India….India… and no other word than India. The head is shaking, the hands are moving all the time when he speaks. A year later, as I pay attention to his conversation, India….India….India….India simply means wife in India, children in India, money send to India, end of year, go back to India.
When the hand is not moving, he will grab his sarong, unfold it, flagging it the way the flag wave on the pole several times before folding it back neatly. Whether this mamak realize it or not, below him, 3 feet away, me enjoying his cendol, he leisurely flagging his half folded sarong facing me. So, it is not the worms in cendol that caused the sabotage, it is the smallest of worms known as scientifically as micro worms that the Mamak release while flagging and waving his white sarong.
No wonder they sabotage him.
1 comment:
Growing up in a small town, I remember there used to be this Mamak cendol who would push his cart in my housing estate. His son, a tall thin boy would always accompany him. Years later upon returning to my hometown after I'd completed my studies, I heard from a friend that the same young boy had died in a freak accident. The Mamak never recovered and stopped plying his cendol.
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