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Negeri Sembilan Homestay Program

When I signed up for the Negeri Sembilan homestay programme, I honestly did not know what I was in for or why I even wanted to go for it. Perhaps it was this allure to the old kampong life that still lives in my blood. One reason or another, I went for the programme regardless.

Being the type of person highly critical of Malays, my criticism started right from the start at the Tanjong Pagar train station. Actually, I had some company in complaining about the eyesore that the train station was in the middle of Singapore. That continued throughout the entire train journey until, of course, when we made our first purchase. The first purchase was obviously food, but it wasn’t just any food, it was Starbucks coffee and Dunkin Donuts! In bigger quantities and cheaper prices! I mean, my venti was like a tumbler! Yes! Malaysia is nice for something!

The only attraction seemed to only be the trekking on the second day. However, when I first settled into my adoptive house, I discovered more than what meets the eye. Take for example, my adoptive grandfather. With an hour to spare before reporting time, I braced myself to stone in the living room staring right through each other. But instead he talked with great hospitality, like any old geezer, and his story spoke plenty, about his children, grandchildren and his life back then in the British military serving in Singapore along with the types of people and experiences he encountered.

Hearing his story and advices here and there made me think about, well what else, the Malay people and their culture. The Malays have not always been the delinquent and underachieving people as what they are being regarded as in Singapore now. What we see today can be called degradation from what the Malays used to be back during the kampong days. There was once a time when they were respected people because of their high regard for values and courtesy. Above all else, their manner of speech were carefully spoken, bringing rise to the complex set of idioms that we know that was once used to soften any harsh comments. Perhaps that is also why for culture and identity.
The way they do things always consider others and family was of utmost importance. There was also a great sense of community and togetherness as there was a strong neighbouring spirit and community activities as part of their daily lives. These are the qualities that I hope the Malays will come to rediscover from within themselves.

Night was bustling with activities, starting off with a religious talk at the surau and cultural performance hands-on at the community hall. The highlight, however, was the last activity for the night; the night walk. Initially, I thought it would be like the cheap thrill that we had at the swim camp, but it turned out to be nothing of that sort. There was actually a trail for us to walk. But the thing is, we had to each do it alone. And it was beside the local cemetery. Yup, totally cool. That got most of the girls worked up, and some guys. I was secretly hoping that I would really see something, because you know, I can’t because of how I am. I didn’t even get much of an adrenaline kick out of it since I realised I have amazing night vision. Too bad I’m short sighted.

It was a trail of around 800 metres long along a winding path that was only guided by some people and white strings. You have to walk most of the path without any guide or company and the village kids who were stationed along the path will try to scare you from behind the trees or wherever. Regardless, the night walk did manage to achieve its objective, which was to raise self-confidence and faith. Some proved that by getting over their fright quickly after getting spooked and some laughed back at the village kids. Once again I proved my inhumanity as I simply raised my eyebrows whenever anything popped out. Seriously, I’m having issues with feeling the human excitement of fright. The dark doesn’t seem to scare me one bit but I have the weirdest phobias.

An important aspect of kampong life, or anywhere else for that matter, is meal times. Normally, I would not even choose to eat Malay food outside the house or even compliment it, but this calls for an exception. The Malay kampong food served was exceptionally delicious, probably due to the very fresh ingredients used. Also, during meals, as guests we were treated by the proper form of entertainment; conversation, something which I think should still be retained instead of the television. Our adoptive grandfather spoke plenty about education, courtesy, kampong life and also his life, obviously the chatty type.

At the end of the road, I guess the entire stay there has been quite fruitful. Existing friendships were tightened and new ones were made, even in the most rural parts of Malaysia that I would never have thought possible. We realise that however different we were from the villagers there, some things about us Malays will never change, like our natural bond and acceptance among each other. In the eyes of some, these villagers have nothing of value to offer. But we found out otherwise.

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The author Seraph is a not so average college guy kicking about in the pool, slugging on the computer and runs odd errands in the name of culture in school, and simultaneously saves the world and his personal life and writes about himself in the third person outside. At heart, he is a youth rights activist, an anti-feminist and an extremist ideologist. His essence runs Legal Grounds.