In search of myself on a road less travelled

For Mancis, the writing is on the wall

The cup of tea was still hot when I took the first sip in that hot, humid and dusty afternoon. I had taken a seat in an almost empty stall, with a view of the road in front of me. It must have been a good ten minutes before the first vehicle passed by, a truck laden with timber inching its way towards a destination probably only its driver knew.
 I had exited a crowded highway to Kuantan about an hour earlier, deciding to follow a road less travelled southwards into Negeri Sembilan. The journey, cutting through rainforests, oil palm and rubber plantations and small towns I never knew existed, had taken me here to Mancis, a one street town north of Negeri Sembilan.



 I had longed to make the journey, knowing that far across the world I may have been, there remain a huge part of this beautiful nation left to discover. The trip was a fulfilling one.
 The lady manning the stall came to the place a generation ago. Speaking in thick Negeri Sembilan accent, she spoke of the hardship when the family first got there.
 The oil palm plantations came later, she said, bringing with them more people and new customers. She eventually earned and saved enough for a generator set and later a refrigerator. The generator set decided it has had enough just about the time when electricity came, she said.
 Her husband died five years earlier and like most other children in the small town, hers found their calling later in the bright lights of the cities. Some went to seek their fortunes in Seremban while the rest went as far as Kuala Lumpur.
 They come back once in a while, but never stayed long, she lamented. Even arrival of the sattellite television service provided by Astro could not entice them to stay a while more.
 Another truck filled with fresh bunches of oil palm fruits passed by as we spoke, blowing dust and a piece of discarded red plastic bag into the dry air. I asked for another cup of tea.

The road leading to Mancis

 A magpie swopped in from nowhere and perched itself on a dead tree trunk to my left. It started singing what must have been one of the most beautiful tunes I've ever heard. Soon its partner flew to join in what seemed an exciting conversation.
 I got lost in time for a while as my thoughts flew back to my roots, a kampung in a far corner of Negeri Sembilan. Mancis on that day was as forgotten as my kampung, I thought.
 I spoke to my wife who accompanied me for the trip, telling her that the days might be numbered for towns such as Mancis as we noted the absence of youths around. Like the passing trucks, folks in town that day will leave too sooner or later.
 The writing is on the wall, I told her, pointing to a dilapidated row of shops listlessly fighting a losing battle against the elements. That is why I have to see these places now, I said, telling her that once they are gone, we may never see them this way again.
 She nodded as we walked to the car after paying the lady and thanking her for her hospitality. Then I started the engine, gave the car a little gas and soon we were on the road again, leaving Mancis in the past and to its destiny.

ENDS