We were living in Kampong Nyabor,Sibu for many years. And by 1980's Kampong Nyabor was moved to Bandung Road and shophouses started to mushroom every where. The urbanisation of Sibu had really taken off by that decade. Our rustic life was changing. The skyline of Sibu also changed with one or two high rise buildings. No one had really thought that a 13 storey building could be built on the peat soils of Sibu. But the Premier Hotel was built and after that, there was no holding back in construction of taller buildings
As a result of construction of more shop houses and office blocks,many of our Muslim family friends moved away to Bandong Road or Kampong Nangka and elsewhere. It must have been difficult for them to resettle.
That was the time we realised that an era has passed by and gone forever from the social map.
We missed the pulut panggang Haji. We missed the satay men. We missed the pisang goreng boys who carried baskets, or cycled along the road and shouting, "Peeeeeeeeeeeesang eh" and then discreetly rang their bicycle bell.
The pisang goreng boys were tiny little things. And their baskets were always layered with newspapers, some banana leaves and a white cloth cover. We never did both about them using their hands to handle the sweet pisang goreng when we bought them, one at a time, because that was all the pocket money we had.
My mother would never make pisang goreng for these reasons : too much oil used (too wasteful), fried food was not good for girls as they would cause the growing of pimples, the bananas used were not our type of bananas...but behind her back, we ate our pisang goreng.
With the kampongs moving further and further away from the main town, we missed the Hari Raya Visiting. This also meant that the younger generation did not learn how to live with Malay neighbours like we did.
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