My first article came out on New Year's Day. It's on an small coffee shop I discovered while visiting a laidback town in rural Kedah. Check out the story below. Thanks for dropping by.
By the way, the story is also availablevonline: http://www.nst.com.my/news/2017/01/201068/rubber-town-sleepy-hollow
Reliving Lunas History
The aging envelope sent from the Lunas Cinema has been sitting in my collection for many years. I have often wondered if the cinema still existed. Finally, I managed to find time to make a trip to this small southern Kedah town and do a little bit of exploration myself.
The easiest way to Lunas is via the Kulim-Butterworth Expressway. Coming in from Penang, the Lunas exit is a mere 25km from the Butterworth intersection. Motorists driving in will come across the newer part of town in the form of modern double storey shop houses before driving on to reach the heritage enclave. There is nothing much to see in the former. The new shops lack history and most of them sell nearly the same things as in the city. Leaving the electrical appliances, second hand bundle clothes and cheap wholesale household goods behind, I continue driving for less than ten minutes to come within sight of pre-war shop houses.
This century old town saw flourishing sago and tapioca trade during its early years. Established nearly 130 years ago, Lunas continued to prosper during the rubber boom in the early part of the 20th century. One of the town's pioneers, Loh Boon Ghee arrived from China and worked as a labourer.
The rubber industry at that time was still at its infancy. The 22 saplings brought into Malaya from Kew Gardens began producing countless precious seeds that were distributed throughout Malaya. By that time, Boon Ghee has saved enough money to start his own business clearing land for European estates. Boon Ghee did not stop there. Being a shrewd entrepreneur, he made his pile by setting up his own rubber plantations. The story of his life is a classic immigrant's rags-to-riches tale.
Lunas today is a pale shadow of its former self. The rubber trade has slowed dramatically no thanks to the invention of the more versatile synthetic rubber. The town is further left behind when new expressways bypass it, diverting traffic away from its once busy street.
Not knowing where to start, I decide to stop by at a very old looking coffee shop right at the opposite end of town. The modern sign in front names it Kedai Kopi Seng Tong. Looking closer at a rather faded signage below the traditional Chinese signboard I can just make out the words SENG TONG CAFE. That is the first indication telling me the shop is old, very old.
I am greeted by a cheerful man standing behind a rather modern looking counter. 'Kopi?' he asks me. I guess that must be the way he greets most customers in the morning. It is after all a coffee shop. 'Kopi Or.' I reply, badly missing my regular morning black coffee as I had to make an early start.
Glancing around I notice a row of old cafe benches and start clicking away with my camera. The sight of my camera immediately shouts out that I am an outsider even though I speak fluent Hokkien, the dialect prevalent in the northern region of Malaysia.
Business this morning must be slow. Only the front table is occupied. I do not have to wait long for my coffee. Ooi Hoe Peng is a friendly person. Standing beside me as I take my first sip, he regales me with stories about how his father had decided to start business due to a dearth in coffee shops back in the early 1950s. 'It was 65 years ago when my father bought this shop and began his trade. Back then business was good. Our shop is located by the main road,' pointing to the road in front of the shop which hardly has any passing traffic these days.
'My father was so busy that I had to help out the moment I got back from school. In those days, we had to buy raw coffee beans and fry them at the back of the shop until they are fragrant. Then, each morning my father would grind the beans into powder before opening the shop,' Hoe Peng tells me before moving to the counter to attend to a customer who had just arrived.
I continue to enjoy my coffee. It is just the way I like it. Black, strong, fragrant and piping hot. I steal glances around the shop in between sips. I can just imagine young Hoe Peng coming back from school, throwing his school bag aside and starting to clean tables. Back in those days, education takes a back seat when it comes to helping out with the family business.
'Come and try. Sit. Sit.' Hoe Peng beckons me when he realizes my longing look at the vintage cafe benches and tables. I decline his offer, feeling rather ashamed. Thanks to his insistence, I soon relent. I pick up my bag and plunk myself down on the low seat, coffee in hand. I lean back and a nostalgic feeling overwhelms me. So, this is what it feels like sitting at a coffee shop more than half a century ago.
I finish the last drop of my coffee which has already turned cold. Just as I am about to leave, an elderly lady appears from the back. Hoe Peng introduces her as his mother. 'Haa...my mother is the best person to talk to if you want to learn more about the history of Lunas. She has been helping my father right from the first day they started this coffee shop. Both of them hail from this town just like the two uncles sitting in front,' he tells me as he gestures towards the two elderly gentlemen chatting at the front table.
Just as I am about to whip out my notebook, she turns around and heads back inside. 'Wait. Aunty, please wait,' I beg her. 'Boh eng la,' she replies before disappearing. Hoe Peng tells me that his mother, Chew Kooi Hiang is usually busy cooking lunch at this time of the day. He spurs me on by urging me to venture into the kitchen if I am really desperate for a story.
A short and yet narrow corridor links the front portion of the shop to the kitchen. Here I find Kooi Hiang busy in front of her stove frying what seems to be mixed vegetables and bean curd. 'Aunty, your cooking is very fragrant. I feel hungry already,' I praised her cooking. Still cooking, she tells me that Lunas today still attracts visitors. 'People still come here to seek out the famous roast duck, visit the Buddhist hermitage and also the old rubber smokehouse. The hermitage attracts lots of people especially during alms giving days. It is just at the back of our house,' as she walks to the back and points to the golden spires in the distance.
With her ladle in hand, Kooi Hiang gestures towards several black and white photographs beside the dining table. She shares with me stories that happened during the early years. 'Lunas back in the early 1950s was a hot bed for communist activities. Food rationing was imposed about a year after we started business and all our food stuff had to be accounted for. The government back then was worried about the bandit sympathizers and the food denial scheme enforced to prevent communist supporters from supplying food to the rebels.' she adds while saying that the young people today do not know how lucky they are to live in this day and age when there is peace and food is in abundance.
I finally get around to asking her about the old cinema when she sits down at the dining table to take a breather. At first she vaguely remembers the place. Fortunately, Hoe Peng happens to drop in to check on things. He remembers going to the movies as a teenager. According to him, the cinema was located beside the market and it screened mostly Mandarin and Cantonese movies. That information must have jolted his mother's memory as she added by saying that tickets used to cost only 40 cents back in the 1960s. 'The audience had to sit on wooden benches and there was a huge fan to provide ventilation. I still remember how the ladies used to complain about their hair do each time they left the cinema,' Kooi Hiang adds with a chuckle.Before I left, Hoe Peng tells me that the old cinema burnt down several years back. 'People in Lunas have to travel to Penang if they want to watch movies these days. At the rate our small town is going I doubt any large corporations will be willing to invest in a cinema here. Surely they will be running at a loss,' he laments while telling me about his concerns about who will continue the coffee shop business when he retires next.
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