A STORY MY BAH TOLD ME

The following is a true story told to me by my Bah (father). Names have been changed to protect the guilty.

It took all sorts to make the world that was Kuala Terengganu in the 50's. There were the good, the bad, and the ugly and there was Leh Pok Teh. Swaggering Leh, short and stocky, considered himself to be a man about town. Twirling his moustache, he was vain enough to consider that the town was all the time about him. He was also devilish enough to be legally chained up during Ramadhan.

Leh loved sadistic practical jokes. He was not bothered by morals or other rules. One night he invited the village lebais to do ratib (tahlil and doa) in his house. He gave them dinner with the obligatory air sirap first. The ratib was never more vigorous and loud that night. Leh had spiked the air sirap with gin. The lebais were none the wiser.

Many many moons after that, Leh was cycling home when he spied Mek Setawa, one of the village belles walking alone. Leh has been trying to tackle Setawa (in all the senses of the word) ever since the last monsoon without much success. You can't possibly tackle anyone without any verbal contact and you can't possibly contact Setawa when his father, Deramang Mata Meroh was within hearing-distance. The exercise was made much more difficult because Pok Deramang had a quick temper and his kelewang was always within wielding-distance.

Now here she was, all alone in the night on the other side of Bukit Pak Apil and Deramang Mata Meroh was nowhere to be seen. Leh could not believe his luck. Leh shone his lapu pecet (torchlight) up and down the road many times to make sure. Leh got down from his bicycle (a Raleigh from Nottingham), muttered his mantra that he got from his island guru and started to sweet-talk Mek Setawa.

In today's parlance, he struck base (in all senses of the word). Leh struck many times after persuading Setawa to get into the bushes with him. After the 4^th strike, Leh lost steam and fell asleep, cuddling Setawa in his arms.

The morning sun found Leh still in the bushes. He was cuddling a batu nesan (grave stone) and his own batu and burung were swollen beyond recognition.

The lebais must have made some supplications, without the aid of spirits this time and retribution was swift.

| 12:09 AM :: ::

7 CommentsOldStyle:

• Dear Ayoh Elida,
  
  Sedak cerita ning!
  
  Lemme guess, Leh's "own batu and burung" were his hapless family jewels, betul ke dok? :D
  
  -MekYang-

  By  Anonymous, at 6:41 AM  

• ahh sweet retribution.. hee hee

  By  elisataufik, at 9:05 AM  

• HAHAHHAA... sometimes we just to smack these people on their heads for what they do (putting gin in Lebais' drinks for instance, and during Ramadhan at that!!!)... but then again, without them, who would entertain us? *grin* Thanks for the story Pok Ku!

  By  DaisyBoo Blacksheep, at 12:02 PM  

• Great story, very good. It's both a good laugh and also a very strong morale behind it. You're a joy to read as always ;)
  
  Cheers!!! :D

  By  hyelbaine, at 1:02 PM  

• Hope that will not start a new fetish!

  By  Kri, at 3:12 AM  

• My mom said that the practice of black magic in Terenggau=nu was quite rampant back during those days. Even my mom nearly 'terkena' but lucky thing she never missed her '3 Qul' therefore was proected somehow. But unfortunately, the spell hit my aunty and she became 'dok beto' for quite sometime.

  By  ビビ, at 7:48 PM  

• MekYang: Ye lah tu. Blog MekYang duane? Ade ke dok?

  By  Bustaman, at 10:21 PM  

Post a Comment
<< Home

© Bustaman :: permalink