love thy neighbour.
As I crossed the street today, it crossed my mind that I have never entered the compounds of my neighbour’s house. Well, not since the last time they renovated the garden, which is... lightyears ago.
Since I first moved into this area, which is in 1998, we’ve only been to our neighbours’ houses like once. Once. And not once a year, mind you.
When we first moved in, beraya was the “in” thing to do for us from the more rural areas like Seremban (where I grew up) and my dad in all his enthusiasm and being the initiator brought us all beraya to our neighbours’ houses just like when we did in Seremban.
Little did we know that such practice was almost obsolete in these parts of the city.
I think that year was the only year we prepared green sampul. My guess is that those green sampul were not used since no one came over to beraya to our house.
KL is very much like every other big city I guess. It’s selfish, at times rude, other times unpredictable, horridly hot at most times and also always all the time stuffy. Of course beautiful city lights are everywhere. In all that beauty, people would think that there actually is no flaw.
Seremban is warmer. Back then, there were Pear, Aimi, Siti and I. There was also the infamous Uncle Zubair garang. We used to have secret passages to each other’s houses. We didn’t enter through doors, we went through drains. Oh, did you know that we cut fences as big as our (then) tiny bodies so that we didn’t have to bother going through the gate?
I remember that Aunty Mash used to ask me my average point every single time exam results came out. My neighbours used to watch on me when I was grounded. I was not allowed to go out before 5 p.m. everyday for games and if I did, my mom would probably get a report from Aunty Tet from the house opposite ours. Puasa is the best! We would exchange food. Let’s not get started about Raya.
And I can go on for hours about how big my family was back then although I only have 3 siblings. But I think you get my point already.
If anyone were to look out for any other person’s child nowadays, we’d probably be called busybodies. And we do care about each other’s kids grades... but only so we can boast that our child is better?
I don’t know... maybe I am generalising. But I know for a fact that no one can be like Abdul’s mom; holding her neighbour’s baby like the baby were her own and calling all her sons’ girlfriends anakanda, padahal kitorang ni tak confirm apa pon lagi.
Nowadays, just wait for open house, okay. If not, please don’t bother. After all, you must love thy neighbour. They don’t want to be disturbed, please do not disturb.
p.s.: nothing went wrong at my neighbour’s house. I was just thinking how close (in distance) we are, yet we know so little of each other.
Since I first moved into this area, which is in 1998, we’ve only been to our neighbours’ houses like once. Once. And not once a year, mind you.
When we first moved in, beraya was the “in” thing to do for us from the more rural areas like Seremban (where I grew up) and my dad in all his enthusiasm and being the initiator brought us all beraya to our neighbours’ houses just like when we did in Seremban.
Little did we know that such practice was almost obsolete in these parts of the city.
I think that year was the only year we prepared green sampul. My guess is that those green sampul were not used since no one came over to beraya to our house.
KL is very much like every other big city I guess. It’s selfish, at times rude, other times unpredictable, horridly hot at most times and also always all the time stuffy. Of course beautiful city lights are everywhere. In all that beauty, people would think that there actually is no flaw.
Seremban is warmer. Back then, there were Pear, Aimi, Siti and I. There was also the infamous Uncle Zubair garang. We used to have secret passages to each other’s houses. We didn’t enter through doors, we went through drains. Oh, did you know that we cut fences as big as our (then) tiny bodies so that we didn’t have to bother going through the gate?
I remember that Aunty Mash used to ask me my average point every single time exam results came out. My neighbours used to watch on me when I was grounded. I was not allowed to go out before 5 p.m. everyday for games and if I did, my mom would probably get a report from Aunty Tet from the house opposite ours. Puasa is the best! We would exchange food. Let’s not get started about Raya.
And I can go on for hours about how big my family was back then although I only have 3 siblings. But I think you get my point already.
If anyone were to look out for any other person’s child nowadays, we’d probably be called busybodies. And we do care about each other’s kids grades... but only so we can boast that our child is better?
I don’t know... maybe I am generalising. But I know for a fact that no one can be like Abdul’s mom; holding her neighbour’s baby like the baby were her own and calling all her sons’ girlfriends anakanda, padahal kitorang ni tak confirm apa pon lagi.
Nowadays, just wait for open house, okay. If not, please don’t bother. After all, you must love thy neighbour. They don’t want to be disturbed, please do not disturb.
p.s.: nothing went wrong at my neighbour’s house. I was just thinking how close (in distance) we are, yet we know so little of each other.
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