APART from formal observances that have long been established, such as the display of the alat kebesaran in the Istana forecourt on Hari Raya eve, the takbir on the morning of Raya, or the tahlil at the royal mausoleum thereafter, some family practices have been repeated every year for so long that they are rightly called traditions as well: KFC for the last buka of Ramadan, satay before Aidilfitri prayers and then lomang paneh throughout the day, roast lamb on the second day, and the intimidation of tonnes of cake donated by various organisations and individuals – literally, nearly, with one Minangkabau-themed cake composed of 80kg of dates set in orange chocolate complete with stairs made of sugar and very tall roofs.
This year was only the second time my family has hosted Open House at Istana Besar Seri Menanti, but already there are some practices that are sure to become traditions: takbir with the staff and distribution of gifts the night before Raya, enjoying the waft of fresh satay being grilled while having a morning shower, and a sheer underestimation of the numbers (based on last year’s turnout we had predicted 3,000, but nearly double that descended upon the royal town, causing a frightful jam on the Kuala Pilah-Seri Menanti road and contributing to the crawl on the ‘Lebuhraya Pertabalan’ – the new Bukit Putus bypass highway). However it seemed that most people thought it was worth it, as I surveyed the guests from all over the state and further afield, including a German couple who own a factory in Gemas (from which, I am pleased to say, I later enjoyed some steak and chicken rice).
And then there are the stories of things that were once traditions but are no more. Seri Menanti, like Bukit Putus before it, is full of ghost stories, and there were certainly many myths about flying keris and apparitions of weretigers that I dare not repeat here. But Hari Raya was once accompanied by columns of firecrackers being let off at the Istana doors, and fireworks that would have, in terms of gunpowder expended, rivalled the artillery shells that once pounded the hills around the royal town on a daily basis to discourage the communists.
It is such a feat to recreate such spectacles because it is so difficult to legally organise them and acquire the necessary hardware. The police chief flatly turned down my request to ignite pyrotechnics from the balcony, so I outsourced the acquisition of fireworks to a cousin, who, with no further questions asked, produced an interesting array of items with no country of origin marked. Of course, in the event, some of the fireworks sputtered while the others elicited laments from older relatives who remarked that even the tamest of displays in the old days would far surpass our 21st century efforts.
It is not surprising: where there is economic authoritarianism as a result of government distrust of citizens, there is a black market, a consequence of which is that it is much more difficult to protect consumers from dodgy goods and more difficult for legitimate traders to compete. This results in increased costs, increased dangers, increased unhappiness and the removal of opportunities to have fun and acquire responsibility and experience in the same way that previous generations did.
Thankfully, in so many other ways, how we celebrate Raya has (to my memory at least) remained unchanged. The no-effort-spared Open House, the playing of jolly songs and the multiethnic merriment endure. The puritans and extremists who want to purge our uniquely Malaysian practices have failed. Long may they do so.
Nations adopt and develop traditions just as much as families do. Yesterday it was Malaysia Day, a day that was originally conceived to celebrate a family of four territories united in freedom. The idea that freedom might once have been a tradition in our country is rather difficult to conceive, but it’s a tradition that needs to be revived if we are to continue celebrating our religious and cultural events in the ways that we are used to.