In Kuala Trengganu the monsoon sings a tune
that rattles on corrugated roofs that lulls cats to sleep. Fishermen home from the sea for a long snooze on the veranda, awaiting the wife's return with tapioca and stuff. But stuff is for the night, it's the ubi
that now lifts the spirit, hissing out warm air in clouds as root turns translucent white. Tapioca and shaved coconut with salt from the sea now roaring mad, once the fisherman's ground, now his dread.
Sounds of distant thunder beneath clouds rolling dark. Pedicab pushers sitting under tarpaulins rat-a-tatting with sudden drops, window panes shielding the constant patter, travellers curled in trishaws, sitting behind waterproof sheets, listening to rubber dipping into bumps in the road, sprays of rain squelching beneath lorry tires, and the chatter of rain-soaked trishawman drenched beneath his hat. The patter and the squelch and the bumps and the drones; the jabber and the damp. In a milieu of patter and beats.
These are everyday parts, assembled in rhythm and sounds...
Budök budök mmaing wa
Lang kangök, lang kangök
Anök-anök dok nnöcak
Jatoh ddebök, jatoh ddebök
Cik Mbong makang kerepok
cicöh cuka, cicöh cuka
Cik Kalèh göhék tèksi
Lapu lik-lak, lapu lik-lak
Ddölöh Hasang mamöh daging
Ggögèh gigi, ggögèh gigi
Kucing bapök masok dapor
Pacör-kecing, pacör kecing
Illustration: Fly by Kite by Jayme McGowan. With thanks
Labels: Monsoon, rain, rhythm, sounds