"I Discovered Utopia"

by Husna Kassim (Malaysia)

I didn't expect to find Malaysia

At the end of every month, without fail, he would set off on a journey to his beach house in Terengganu, driving 500 kilometers down the empty highway, all by himself. On one trip however, I decided to take up his challenge. An hour into the journey, I regretted my decision. Because sitting next to him in his classic boneshaker, a 32 year-old Toyota Land Cruiser, was torturous. The engine would crank up so much noise, it was impossible to carry on any conversation throughout the entire journey. A hot, humid tropical weather, a malfunctioning AC and an ear-bursting booming engine hardly made the journey comfortable. Moving at an average 70 kilometers per hour, it took us more than eight hours to finally arrive in Merang. It was way past midnight and everything was almost pitch black except for some flickering lights passing through cracks in the walls of wooden kampong houses as we drove past. The sight of his unlighted beach house was almost ghostly. But as we went through the house, we were greeted by fireflies fluttering around the room emitting little flickers of light. And if you listened carefully, you could hear the chorus of the cicadas and the inescapable sound of rusted fan blades turning. I was suddenly awakened by the cold breeze creeping through the wooden louvres in the early hours of the morning. It was still dark and so quiet you could almost hear a pin drop. The azan, the call to prayer, suddenly broke the silence. As I stood on the veranda, I was struck by the entire vista: the beach, the Casuarina trees, the calm sea and the metamorphosis of the skyline. The sun was slowly bursting through the myriad of pink and orange clouds, like cotton candies suspended in the horizon. It was truly a sight to behold. The birds were chirping excitedly, exchanging calls while perched at the top of the Casuarina trees; the chattering of monkeys from the mangroves behind; the rhythm of the waves and the deep sound of well-mannered four-stroke fishing boat engine all came together at the break of dawn. The entire stretch of the beach suddenly came alive. Kampong Mangkok is a mix of old and new - kampong houses, with unvarnished timber aged by sea breeze, laden with salts; old traditional Malay houses transported from all over Terengganu, re-constructed; and new wooden Malay houses and modern concrete beach houses. It is populated by hundreds of swaying coconut trees, Casuarina trees, grazing cows and goats. It sits on a promontory flanked by turquoise blue waters of the South China Sea on one side and the mangrove river called Sungai Setiu on the other. On a clear day, you could see the outcrops of Pulau Perhentian, Lang Tengah and Pulau Redang from a beach called Pantai Penarik. The shimmering blue waters reminded me of Hemingway’s fascination with the sea, “The sea is the last free place on earth”. There is something soothing about the sound of ocean waves, the repetitive slow whooshing sound as the warm sand get pulled back into the sea with every retreating wave. The tranquility that transpired, initiated a train of thoughts. Tapping away at the keyboards for hours, writing and rewriting perfect sounding thoughts while seated on the verandah, observing the entire vista, basking in the realm of serenity and peace that a beach-front kampong life provides, was paradise to me. How could it not be, when you could capture the vibrant sunrise from one beach and the stupendous sunset from another. I came to Kampong Mangkok, expecting a dull kampong life with little to offer. But I left with a feeling of having discovered utopia, where everyone knows your name, where people didn’t lock their doors, a place where everything was quiet and relaxed. Kampong Mangkok is a writer’s paradise.