I have lived in Kuala Lumpur city for more than a dozen years now. I know Kampung Baru. I know where it’s located. I never visited it. Not until sister number 4, who is here from Brisbane, expressed an interest to go to a nearby kampung or village. I quickly read up on Kampung Baru. Realised it was only two LRT stops from my condo. Quite literally, in my backyard.

Why hadn’t I been to Kampung Baru? I honestly don’t know. Especially, since I am a kampung girl myself. Finally, a few weeks ago, I played tourist guide to my sister. The hot, hot weather, with barely any shelter from the blazing sun did make me question my sanity and judgement. When I was blinded by sweat pouring down my face. Despite that, I am glad I made the effort. Wooden houses on stilts. Mostly neat and tidy. Well-tended gardens. Banana, mango, and coconut trees. Curry and betel leaf plants. Bougainvillea everywhere that added colour and vibrancy.

It was rural, yet urban.  For sure, it was busy. People, motorbikes and motorcars inundated the streets. Stalls and restaurants were aplenty. Not all were open and not all were busy but there was enough of a hustle and bustle that afternoon. Amidst all these, the city skyline offered an impressive aerial backdrop to Kampung Baru. I looked up and feasted my eyes on the magnificent Petronas Twin Towers, Maxis Tower, Public Bank, the KL Tower, and many other ultra-modern high rise buildings. Wow.

Kampung Baru sits strategically close to KL city. ‘The government has proposed to redevelop the 120-year-old Kampung Baru into the “Taman Warisan Melayu” (Malay Heritage Park), which will see the preservation of 11 traditional homes and the development of 45,000 houses, including affordable units, to attract more Malays to live in the city centre. The project is expected to begin in June this year if issues regarding land ownership are resolved[1].’

For me, it was a journey down memory lane. Walking into this enclave brought back memories of living in a wooden house and growing up in a kampung in Alor Star. I thought of my little house in Jalan Seberang Perak. Images of it danced in my head. I remember giving it a name; the house near ‘Haji shop.’ On stilts, it had a stairway that led into the living area. The windows were full height to allow free flow of air sans air conditioners. The roof was ‘atap’ or thatched, made of nipa palm leaves. There were two bedrooms. A staircase led down to the kitchen. I don’t remember much about the kitchen. There was a little drain around or by the side of the house. And, there was enough of a front yard for my two brothers and me to run about and play. We used to shoot marbles and play ‘sapsai.’ The latter is like juggling a football for the longest time. A ‘sapsai’ is made of chicken feathers stuck on round pieces of rubber, usually salvaged from discarded bicycle tyres.

On the left was the ‘Haji shop’ and on the right was a school. Having the ‘Haji shop’ next door was so convenient. It was like a corner shop, and it had all the things a child would want – sweets and ice-lollies. I am sure it sold other things but I have no recollection of its inventory. The only things I bought, when I had some pocket money, which was 5 sen, were ‘Ice-cream Malaysia’ and frozen ‘rambutans.’  ‘Ice-cream Malaysia’ is water flavoured with sugar or syrup with red bean or corn, and frozen in the fridge. It resembled popsicles. Without a fridge at home and on a hot day, slurping ‘Ice cream Malaysia’ was heavenly. Frozen ‘rambutans’ had a similar refreshing effect. Over the years, my tastes have somewhat developed. But the mere thought of ‘Haji shop,’  ‘Ice cream Malaysia’ and frozen ‘rambutans’ take me to a happy place.

Amongst the many kampung houses, there was one big white double-storey brick house. It was owned by a family that had a jewellery shop in town. I remember thinking they must be rich because they lived in a brick house, had a car, a driver and a maid.  A very big deal at the time. The school on the right was surprisingly not noisy despite the many children who attended classes, did sports and played on the fields. What I did hear and what was nice was the national anthem, ‘Negaraku’ sung by the children at assembly.

My house was simple and traditional. My kampung was quiet and peaceful. My memories – fond and happy.  Nice.