Memories of Past Ramadhans

It is almost routine that 5 mins before we hear the azan Maghrib, my children will have taken their positions around the dining table; making sure that food has already been served on their plates and drinks in their cup. With one hand holding the kurma or whatever favourite food they have in mind, they wait for the first "Allahu akhbar", as "patient" as a child can be. Once they hear the "A", without a second wait, they took their first bite. Most of the time, forgetting to say a little bismillah before breaking fast. Sometimes, they even say their own azan - if the wait proves too long for them.

I remembered those early years of learning to how to puasa back in the 80s. Almost everyday, Nenek's 3 room flat at Upper Boon Keng Road would be filled with people - at least 4 families would be having iftar there. Nenek, the matriach of the family who had such great bonds with her children that no matter how far they lived, be it Yishun or Bedok, from Pak Tek to Ucu would make their way to good ol' Upper Boon Keng Road for iftar.

Anyway, we would have our iftar on the floor with the furniture pushed to one corner. The whole length of the living room would be filled with food - most from other neighbours. Nenek, with her sleeves folded to the elbow, would usually cook just a dish or two in one big periuk - not the periuk that we use for normal cooking. I used to be able to sit in that periuk at 7 years old - so you can imagine how big a periuk Nenek used to cook. And the cooking was not done in the 3-room flat of the kitchen but at the HALL - you know, the big empty square space next to her unit and the stairways down. I don't know what it is called but we all used to just call it "Hall". And she used to cook on an "arang" stove in the middle of the hall. That was where she cooked the ketupat for raya and all the dishes too. No one knew what fire hazard meant in the 80s.

So after the cooking, the Cucus would make ourselves busy helping Nenek send a plate of the dish to more than 10 neighbours. If you were lucky, you might get be sent to Makcik Sal's place across the road or Makcik Timah at the block with the 'Mama' shop - maybe you could divert awhile and buy a packet of chikadee or Kaka or even to Maknye Ina who lived just opposite the playground - maybe a few minutes on the swing or on the see-saw or just kick the sand on the ground (yes, we did have sand on the playgrounds 20 years ago)

In return, our kind neighbours would give us yummy dishes - from badak berendam to kole-kole and epok-epok sayur to many many other dishes, we would lay them on the floor as Maghrib approached. While we sent the dishes from house to house, Nenek would be bending her back stirring air kathirah - homemade. Nothing beats Nenek's air kathirah. Power! Class! Fuyooh!

And around 10 mins before Iftar, cousin Nor and I would be dishing the food on OUR plates. Nor would be trying to find empty spaces in her plate where she could stuff maybe one epok-epok or begedil. It became like a competition - who's plate was higher! Most of the time, Nor won. After all, she got bigger bones that me. Nor was the CHAMPION! Not only were her food higher but her drink was also in a special container. She must have next to her a tumbler filled with air kathirah. This is not the 500 ml or 1 litre tumbler - hers was at least a 1.5 litre tumbler. There was no way that I could beat that without getting a pinch on the thigh from Mak.

We sat facing each other most of the time. Nor eyeing my food, me eyeing hers. Who could finish it - and still be alive and kicking? And similar to my children, we too had kurmas in our hands, ready to be stuffed into our mouths once we heard the azan. After which, Nor would start with her 1.5 litres of air kathirah. Nor was a big drinker even at 7. Before you could finish counting 1 to 10, she would finished her air kathirah. While Nor was a "Gulper", I was the "Sipper". Smaller bones - what to do? So I could never finish my drink. Then Nor moved on to the food on her plate. I would follow suit.

We finished our food most of the time - but at the end of the feat, both of us usually could not get up . We would be lying on the floor for around 30 mins before Pak Teh kicked our butts to perform our solat. I remembered taking wudhu in agony. Rukuk and Sujud were the most difficult part as we could not get up. After maghrib, it was to the floor again till another kick came for Isyak. The "Senak" feeling was unforgettable and yet, Nor and I NEVER learnt our lesson - the next iftar, we would do the same thing all over again! 8p