I cannot remember exactly how old I was when I took my first train ride. In those days, 9th aunt was the family chauffeur. The roads then were narrow, one lane affairs, and once stuck behind a lumbering lorry, it would take great courage to overtake. For the timid driver, the drive would then move at snail’s pace. 9th aunt had the heart of a lioness – but eldest uncle would not hear of her driving all the way from Penang to Ipoh to visit 10th aunt. So the decision was to take the train.
It was really quite fun. Since it was the school holidays, I was allowed to go along with them. So with a tiny suitcase, and lots of excitement, off I went on my first train ride. We lived onPenangIsland, and the train began its journey only from Butterworth which is on the mainMalayanPeninsula. The first part of the journey therefore meant taking the ferry from the island to the mainland. I loved the ferry. As I peered over the sides of the vessel, I remembered seeing many jelly fish, ballooning like little umbrellas just beneath the crystal clear sea water. I loved the sea breeze playing with my hair, and I loved looking at my beautiful island home from the middle of the gloriously blue sea.
As soon as we stepped off the platform, we needed to walk along grilled passageways, past sniffer dogs to where customs officials waited to inspect our luggage. Penangwas a free port in those days, and hence belongings had to be checked in case there were taxable items. We bought some things for 10th aunt and my heart was going pitter patter in case we got found out.
Finally, the train. It had old wooden benches and old fashioned wood framed windows. How I loved sticking my head out and let the wind whizzed by. I was excited when the train stopped at the various small stations along the way. As soon as it stopped, hordes of little boys would come on board selling nasi lemak or roti or kacang putih. My family did not believe in buying from these little scallywags.
“Not clean!” declared uncle.
“Too expensive and not nice to eat!” scoffed mum.
9th aunt however was usually game to try things out. So once in a while, we might just buy one packet of nasi lemak. Then everybody else would confirm their initial opinion, for indeed it would be rather expensive and not tasty at all. Still, 9th aunt and I would be quite happy to have tried it anyway.
Then there were the tunnels. There was something really cool about thundering through long tunnels. All of a sudden, we plunged into momentary darkness before the dim lights on the trains were switched on. I tried to see what the sides of the tunnels looked like, and amazingly, sometimes I could see graffiti scrawled on. Who on earth had the courage to even walk these tunnels? I was city born and bred and that was certainly not something any of my friends would even have dreamt of doing.
I loved looking out the window. We would journey past padi fields, rubber plantations, forested areas, and limestone hills. Sometimes we would have to hold our noses, especially as we flew past tapioca plantations. Other times, there were little boys from kampongs nearby, excited by the trains and waving wildly for attention.
Years later, when I was studying inSingapore, I would still be taking train rides. This time, I was no longer charmed by the journey. It was a long trip fromSingaporetoPenangand I was tired even before the journey began. If I had my way, I would have preferred to take the night express buses. Flying was too expensive and Mum would not hear of my taking the bus. There were reports of accidents along the highway, and mum just did not want to trust the bus driver with the life of her only child. So grudgingly, I would lug my heavy bags to the station at Tg Pagar. Most of my friends would abandon me and either flew or took the bus home.
I seldom had time to go to the canteen at the station. I seldom had the chance to explore the station. Travelling alone meant I had to be with my luggage the whole time, and who would want to lug heavy bags everywhere. I would wait impatiently for the gate to open. Then it would be a walk along grilled passageways, customs checks and passport control. Just like my train journeys fromPenang, customs checks were stressful affairs. Things were much cheaper inSingaporethan inPenang, and I would have bought up a storm for my relatives. Once past customs, I would be so relieved, I wished I could just climb on board and take a nap.
Much older, I no longer peered out the window, except if I happened to see fire flies out in the field. Those held a strange fascination for me. I had difficulty reading in a moving vehicle, so the journey was really laborious for me. Thankfully, there was something that I could always look forward to on my train journeys – something that made me feel privileged and oh so loved. I bet no one outside my family ever had this experience.
Whenever the train pulled into Kuala Lumpur, I would crane my neck out. Somewhere in the crowd would be my 6th aunt or some cousins. They were waiting for me. As soon as they saw me, they would hand over a parcel of food. Usually it was something they cooked specially for me. Sometimes they also had some things for my family in Penang. The same thing happened when the train pulled into the Ipoh station. 10th aunt would be waiting for me with steaming hot dinner or it could be Kentucky Fried Chicken. Even today, as I look back, I feel such a warm, fuzzy feeling inside. My aunts took so much trouble just to make sure I was well fed on the train!
I no longer take train journeys. My children do not care too much about the train. Sure it was a thrill to take train rides back in those days. Still, I realize that it is not the memory of the train rides or the stations that stir me. It is what these train rides tell me of my family relationships that never fail to stir my heart.
At the end of the day, it is always the human touch that brings meaning to life.
