….and the Christmas trees were tall…
Sorry, cant help it.
What I wanted to blog about today was of my memories of celebrating Ramadhan when I was a lot younger than now. Maybe younger by 30 years ago that is.
My dad had already relocated us the family from living with my grandparents to living at the teacher’s quarters in the small town of Raub. The house by any means was quite spacious, old but spacious. It was built during the Japanese occupation and situated on this small hills facing the main road of Lipis Road. The quarters obviously were within the compound of the Sekolah Rendah Kebangsaan Raub of which most of the buildings then were built pre war. Infact I was told that the library was used as a communication centre of the Japanese soldiers when they invaded Malaya then.
We the children of these quarters simply loved to gather in the late afternoons and explore the grounds. We went to the highest point of the hills, explored the jungle that fringed the football field, looked for crickets in the bushes and play slides. Over the weekend, the badminto court at the front of the house became our centre to play “police sentry”.
When Ramadhan comes, the men folks would walk to the mosque nearby to perform “terawih prayers”. The children, after breaking fast, had nothing else to do and so we would decide to explore the old buildings of the school.
As we walked slowly in the long wide corridors, a few would make some really smart-ass remarks of encountering the ghosts of headless Japanese soldiers.
Of course we never really encountered anything of that kind but then sometimes we did hear some strange conversations that sounded more like Japanese to our ears.
Who knows what was it that we heard?