As we drove into Kelana Jaya I told my fellow wanderers and explorers “welcome back to the sanctuary”. After Pudu Kj was indeed a welcoming sanctuary.
The din was still reverberating in your ears, decayed but still sharp. The sights remained in megabytes of pixels in virtual form but the stink was real.
You need a good pair of Wellies to wade through the many mini pools. The wellie will keep your paddles dry but the odor, uuurgh.
The odor was not just floating. We were the ones floating in a sea of decay, rot and filth, the excreta of billions of bacteria, roaches rats and you name it. The odor was indeed penetrative. It got deep into your fabrics, deep in your porous dead skin. And it got into your boxers and undies. It remained even as I was writing this.
I did not get to see the snakes and the monkeys and the dogs but I got to see fat frogs. These were fat frogs with fat hind legs very similar to the one I caught at The Community Lake. I think these were bred rather then caught from the wild. I saw chickens, ducklings. And I saw many “Ayams” enterprising chickens of the human kind. But let me tell you about the frogs first.
I asked the vendor the price of the frogs and we got onto deeper conversation about what was haram and halal in perfect Malay.
Melayu mana boleh makan, he said.
We talked about amphibious animals and the flesh of swine and blood and about those who issue forbiddance in GOD’s name. It was RM 15 a kilo he said as he gave two blows to the head of the toad before gutting it.
I remembered the picture of the toad I posted on my Facebook with the caption “Ginger,spring onions, soy sauce and chili padi” mmmmmmm.
Far from the race politics in the media I could see the real Malaysia. There was no separate area for the pork vendors. People mingled by making their own choice. You could see though at one end there were more non Chinese then the other end. You make your choice where you want to go.
Again it occurred to me that the Bangladeshi workforce deserve the Dewan Bahasa Pustaka Award for promoting Malay and for the courage to venture and work in areas in Chinese businesses where Malays dare not go.
I asked the pork seller the price of pork in Malay. I could notice the astonish look in her. It must be the first time in her life she being asked that question.
“Empat belas Ringgit” she said.
I entered a building next to the unpopular Main Market building and I saw living merchandise of a different kind.
The Malays call them ayam, but at 9 am in the morning. It indeed was the first time in the world that you get the flesh trade market doing business at 9 am. Free enterprise at work here.
Women in sexy dresses next to a live chicken market at 9 am qualify to be the best marketing innovation with the tagline “sex at any time, fresh and in flesh” .
I entered the lobby area, not allowing my two ladies to join me and walked up the escalator. The china girls were daring enough to do direct selling holding your arms and offering services.
What a morning.
I wrote on the FB wall “Pasar pudu qualifies to join the World’s dirtiest market League. To fellow Malaysians who “perasaan” they are in the first world, Pudu would remind them of the down trodden, bottom leaguers. These people may not even qualify to be in the league. And you see that poverty does not discriminate and is race blind”
It kept me wondering, why were they not engaged? These were proud people but these people were also pragmatic.
We travelled back to PJ via Brickfields. What a contrast.
The skunk now needed a shower a shave and splashes of his favorite Davidoff in that emerald blue bottle.