The Cocoanut

Despite my enthusiasm in attending these joyous occasions, we as a family have never actually held an open house ourselves. This could be partly attributed to our clan’s long-held tradition of keeping Hari Raya a strictly family-only affair. Of course, Hari Raya has always been a time for families to get together, but ours seem to take it a notch further, to the point where it almost appears that we are excluding others from participating in the festivities.

It could either be a lack of creativity or simply a strong sense of maintaining tradition, but our clan’s Raya schedule has, for the most part, remained constant over the years. On Raya eve family after family would converge at the headquarters of the clan aka my grandmother’s house in Seremban, where we would all break fast for the last time. At night the children will be decked out in our traditional Malay clothes, baju melayu cekak musang for the boys (or the teluk belanga version for the more casual among us), and either the feminine baju kurung or the elegant baju kebaya for the girls, depending on which of the two is in fashion at the time.

We would then perform the customary minta maaf zahir dan batin (ask for forgiveness) from our parents and grandmother before being handed what I felt was the climax of Raya, our equivalent of a Christmas gift, a green envelope packet containing cash. The whole night would then be spent with us children playing with sparklers and fire crackers, amid laughter, food and counting money in between.

On Raya Pertama, the first day of Raya, we would start the day with the obligatory ketupat, rice filled into a woven palm leaf pouch and boiled so that the rice compresses and takes on the form and texture associated with dumplings. The ketupat is eaten with a choice of beef or chicken rendang and satay sauce. Admittedly, this is quite a hefty breakfast, but then again we did just complete a month of fasting.

Lunch would be what we had for breakfast, complemented by lemang, glutinous rice filled into bamboo sticks and cooked in open fire, fish sambal, our grandmother’s beautiful nasi minyak (ghee rice), and jar upon jar of traditional and modern Malay cookies. A jar of semperit (a type of shortbread), bahulu (a kind of dry and crunchy sponge cake) and biskut Marie (another type of cookie) can make or break our Raya celebration. There is nothing worse than eating a dry, tasteless semperit, prepared by someone who obviously thinks butter is too good for us.

For something decidedly less rich, it’s hard to beat a cube of lengkung (or lengkong, depending on how broad you pronounce your ‘o’). This is a kind of red jelly that’s been flavoured with rose syrup (I think) and is not too sweet or rich. It is undemanding of the tastebuds but the cooling sensation is pure treat in a climate as hot and humid as Malaysia’s.

*The photographs were adapted from my cousin’s collection of the recent Raya family gathering, which I, being in Melbourne, unfortunately missed out on.