Rural Playground

(an article from http://magazine.virtualmalaysia.com/)


There is one thing I despise about visiting homestays – parting ways with my host family to head back to the city. My last homestay trip was no exception.

Just east of Butterworth in Penang, nestled in the shadows of Bukit Mertajam, lies a quaint hamlet called Mengkuang Titi Mengkuang Titi is one of a clusters of villages named after a riverbank plant Mengkuang whose serrated leaves are processed and woven into mats. Titi, meaning bridge, identifies this particular village from those around it as it centres on the small bridge across the Mengkuang River that runs through the village.

Mengkuang Titi isn’t my village, but there are aspects of it that trigger fond memories of a more carefree youth. My host, Makcik Mah (Makcik means aunty - a salutation given to older woman), is a disciplinarian. But when she woke me up early in the morning to the crowing of cockerels, it was so that I can have an early breakfast and quite literally go out to play. And that’s really the basis of the entire homestay experience – at least for the locals. I savoured the opportunity to take a break from being a responsible and serious adult.

There are roughly 70 families dwelling in Mengkuang Titi and 25 of them are homestay hosts. To date, they have received guests from Germany, Japan, Saudi Arabia and Korea. Just a few months earlier, Makcik Mah hosted a couple of young men from Saudi Arabia who were studying in Kuala Lumpur.

The folks in Mengkuang Titi are spoiled for choice when it comes to night and farmer’s markets. Within a 4km radius of the village, there are four night markets held on four different days of the week. And all four markets take pride in offering the freshest produce - from newly caught fish and crabs to an enviable variety of fruits, which just a few hours ago were still hanging from its tree branch. The one I went to was in the small town of Penanti, a five-minute drive from Mengkuang Titi. Stalls with brightly-coloured umbrellas line the long stretch of road, hedged by shophouses. Beyond the road, in the far distance lies an old Chinese cemetery on a sloping hillside, making for an interesting contrast.

Incidentally, villages such as Mengkuang Titi are some of the best places to sample fruits and foods not found in cities and towns, such as jentik, which comes in a grape-like bunch with a brittle yellowish exterior. Snacks and savouries, such as sweet corn, spiced fried chicken and apam balik, are prepared on-site and compete on quality and taste. Not even the sweltering afternoon heat can dampen the buzz of shopping for great food at even better prices.


Early in the mornings, birdsongs float in the chilly morning air. Faintly in the background, I could hear Makcik Mah preparing breakfast. A cook by trade, she plies her guests with all kinds of delicious foods from morning till night. In the words of her daughter, Siti: “In this house, we’re rich with food!’

The revival of Mengkuang Titi includes a nascent cultural dance troupe called Suditari. The second night there, I got the chance to drop in on the troupe at work. Their performance, though a little rough around the edge, was honest and delivered with a lot of heart. The graceful women curl their fingers like hula dancers and the gregarious men trot their dance steps, but whether rehearsing or performing for an audience, their faces are always smiling, for they have plenty of time to perfect their craft alongside the development of the Mengkuang Titi homestay programme.

Early next morning, I was off to one of the10 surviving rubber plantations in Mengkuang Titi. The two-acre plantation is owned by 42-year-old Rahmah Saari who was busy tapping the mature rubber trees when we arrived. Under the cool shade of the trees, we chatted for a while. This affable lady works the plantation with her husband for some side income. Small, privately owned plantations such as these are dwindling in numbers as vast plantations owned by conglomerates win out from sheer economies of scale. The hardworking couple also rears geese, ducks and chickens.

Just before I left the plantation, I slipped a handful of rubber plant seeds into my bag. I just couldn’t resist the shining, speckled brown globes which reminded me of my youth, when running cross-country through rubber plantations was a bi-annual primary school routine.

Back at Makcik Mah’s house, after a simple afternoon tea, I took a walk around the village to drink in the quiet afternoon. In front of an old wooden house on stilts, a group of young boys gathered around watching their friends play gasing, a traditional wooden top. Nearby, a few girls played congkak, another traditional game more popular with the girls. I sat and watched them, noticing their shy glances and timid smiles as they curiously regard this stranger in their village.

Dare to stay longer here and you’ll risk falling in love with Mengkuang Titi and its people. Like many homestays, it’s the people here that make the difference. There are charmed jewels in the form of elderly folks that give the village its memorable character. The friendly old lady who smokes rolled tobacco, or the old grandfather who ventures around the village on his beaten up pre-war bicycle. But arguably the most memorable is the old couple affectionately known as Tok Wan and Tok Nah.

If there is one thing Tok Wan can’t resist, it’s to startle Tok Nah whenever guests are around. You see, Tok Nah goes into a fit of latah whenever she is startled. A trait often seen in elderly women folk, when startled, they react by repeating the last word they heard. Sometimes Tok Nah would break into a song with that word in it. Other times she would act out the suggestion or question pounced on her. It’s difficult to explain. You’ll just have to see it for yourself.

There are a million and one things you could do at Mengkuang Titi, from trying your hands at rubber tapping, to fishing at the ban – the narrow channels of water feeding into the paddy fields. But on of the best things to do is to visit the private fruit orchards owned by almost every family in Mengkuang Titi. The one I went to belonged to an elderly gentleman named Saad Hashim. This generous, 70-year-old ex-soldier who once served in Congo is proud of his fruit trees and invited me to sample a type of rambutan he grows - lychee rambutan, named for its small size. In his two-acre orchard, several trees stoop low, its branches laden with bright red globes of ripe lychee rambutans. All we had to do was to reach up, pluck the fruits and enjoy it under the shade. A few feet away, dokong, durian, mangosteen and ciku trees are either already fruiting or in bloom, due to break out with fruits in a few weeks’ time.

My three-day, two-night visit ended before I could do all there is to do in Mengkuang Titi. I didn’t have time to visit Kamloon beach, a half-hour’s drive from Mengkuang Titi. I was told that along the road that leads to this beach, one can see the vast expanse of commercial paddy fields stretching for miles on both sides of the highway. Nearby, in the Kuala Muda estuary, local fishermen haul in their catch of the day. I wonder what the beach is like. Maybe I’ll get to see it on my next visit.