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The
trek up the familiar Klang Gates this time was truly a fruitful
outing.
Instead
of rushing to finish the trek circuit, which I have done in 45
minutes, we (7 trekkers) spent 5 hours there. For one, it was
not my intention to rush through it. It's been a few months away
from the jungle that I needed to take in the the sight and scenes,
smell and sounds of the jungle. But I know one can't really escape
the reality of city life at Bukit Tabur. After all, Kuala Lumpur
is just a few miles away. During one of our little stopovers,
I recall making the remark about Bukit Tabut that "the sight
is great, the smell is great, but it sounds terrible." Every
once in a while, we could hear the familiar sounds of the old
newspaper collector shouting, "Paper lama! Paper lama!"
and the Paddle Pop ice-cream advertising jinggle over a loudspeaker.
There
was a slight haze that day, and we couldn't have a good view of
the dam; the haze seems to have diffused the sunlight and there
was a glaring overcast when we looked over at the dam. over at
the other side of the ridge where we could usually see the city,
most parts in the distance seemed enveloped by the haze. The twin
towers and KL Tower looked surrealistically like buildings in
the air. But if kept our point of view to about 500 metres away
only, everything looked great.
And
as I trekked, and looked at the six others, my thoughts ran astray.
I was rather surprised that I was enjoying the trek. I've been
to Bukit tabur more times than I remember, so there has been times
when I failed to notice the beauty of the place. I remember that
in the last three years or so, everytime I trek up Klang Gates,
I lament about how much the place has eroded since 1999 (when
articles about the water crisis and how it was affecting the Klang
Gates dam appeared in the newspaper seemed to have brought this
place to multitudes of people's attention). But here I was actually
enjoying myself.
The
joy came from my remembrances of the place: I recalled how the
place looked like, the early experiences I had of this place,
the different people like Bath, San Tee, Soon and other friends
from my university days, Ian, Don, Scott, Jusri, Nee On, Terance
and so many others I've walked with in this place.
And
when I looked at the six others who were there trekking with me,
I thought to myself that this was, as it were, a wonderful new
beginning. For the last few years, I've come to enjoy the company
of this particular group of people I trekked with so much so that
things felt different, very different, without them. I've tried
trekking with other friends and students, but there seemed as
if a part (usually the part that brings out fun, laughter and
joy) was missing. I somehow restrained myself from fooling around
with these other trekkers. I never gave them a chance. So many
of the people I used to trek with have now gone their own ways.
Some are now in Australia and Canada, some have picked up other
interests. It's hard to get the whole group together. Just like
I occasionally try to get my university friends out together --
even for a drink -- I will still try to ask the usual trekkers
form this group.
Last
Saturday, except for Ker Soon, who is becoming quite a regular,
and Noelle, for the second time, the others were "new".
And because I was enjoying the place, I soon began to enjoy the
company of the six other people with me. And I suppose it was
the first time that I actually let go of the people I enjoyed
trekking with in the past. Sure it was great having Nee On, Sze
Ning, Quin Jean, Candice, Bang Qin, Amos, Su Yuen, Gin May, and
others around the last few years. But like so many of my other
good friends before them, I had to let go.
Which
is sad actually because then it seems more true that I don't have
one person or a particular group of close friends. Actually, this
should be too much of a surprise. Someone once remarked that I
don't share anything with anyone. There might be a grain of truth
in that, but that's only because... forget it.
Childhood
friends, schoolmates, University and fellow hostelites, colleagues,
and students are basically people who've come into different stages
in my life at different times. It sounds odd, because I just taught
my students about there's no such thing as beginnings and endings
in class, and here I am writing about stages in my life that starts
and ends. But anyway, letting go is never easy because it deals
with the heart. But emotion is something that can be chosen. We
tend to choose who we want our friends to be. I choose my friends.
We choose who we are kind to, who we love, who we keep at a distance.
And in the last one month, I've chosen to let go of so many things
and people when I put a whole new set of priorities in my life.
Things I liked, or had a passion for, the ones I tell I would
watch their back; the ones I would go the distance for; the ones
I would willingly help; I let go. I practically felt like I died
so many times. It was painful, but I survive. A few noticed the
change in me; some didn't and others I have not met.
It's
just that I felt I needed to detach before I began to grow and
to move on to a new stage. Don't get me wrong, the people of the
past are still my friends. I remember them well and will still
treat them well. I still call up my old schoolmates, though not
as often as I should. And I feel so sad when I meet them at someone
else's funeral. (Yeah, I know I keep saying I don't care about
the dead, but I do feel pain. I just don't show it). So it's not
like I'm cutting people I know off completely. Perhaps they'll,
again, play a significant role in the next stage. I am hoping
they will, actually. One of the things I hate losing are my friends.
But the things I let go, I will no longer pursue.
And
so it was that with these six other trekkers, I could finally
say that I've successfully, with a saddened heart, found a new
sense of liberty. My attachments to the things and people in the
past (as recent as two months ago) have been cut loose, and I
was willing to let everything start from square one again. I only
hope that as I gave Bukit Tabur this second chance to start over,
the people I've let go would let me start over, too.
As
I came to that realisation, I was rewarded in two ways. One, I
walked up the trail I knew existed but never tried before when
Ker Soon and two other trekkers insisted on exploring the place.
I saw in them the awe, and excitement, and adventurous spirit,
that I lost when I got familiar with the place. Their enthusiasm
finally won me over, and so we trekked on. And as we trekked,
i realised that the section is rarely trekked upon, and the sight
I saw reminded me so much of the Klang Gates that has been locked
in my memory since seven years ago. I could again see the green
moss grow abundantly like a carpet across the rock, and the crystal
rock still quite secure, and the trees and shrubs were growing
somewhat densely together. And so I thought that as time goes
on, I'll only grow to look more fondly of the people and things
I've let go.
Two,
for the first time after years of trekking at Bukit Tabur, I saw
fruits grow on the trees in the orchard. Again, I look at it symbolically
that there's new life blooming in a familiar old place. And so
I was excited. There were tropical fruits like the durian, rambutan,
pulasan, duku langsat, jackfruit, mangosteen growing everywhere.
We ate our fill. And I wonder if the others thought of me as being
mad -- I was climbing up rambutan trees like when I was a kid
(I didn't tell them that I used to climb up the rambutan tree
at my grandparents home whenever I visited them). This incident,
of course, made me take note of the paradoxial continuum that
I am stuck in. Whenever I have "new" trekkers, if they
are students, they will always be around 17 or 18 or 19 years
old, but I'm growing older. The age group is widening, and they'll
never catch up. So if I was 25 and I did crazy stuff, it might
not look as strange when a thirty something do those stuff. (
I wonder if I'm heading into midlife crisis - but it can't be...
I don't plan to die so young). Anyway, among the seven of us,
there were 5 backpacks and a pouch. We went in the trek with biscuits
and water and my usual medical kit. We came out with our bags
full of rambutans and pulasan. The durian, duku langsat and jackfruit
weren't ripe.
This
trek was quite significant -- it's been really fruitful, especially,
to me. And so it is that with this a new chapter begins. And I'm
looking forward to doing things with the people I'm still meeting,
the people I'll meet. There are a number of new things I'm exploring.
I'm excited.
So,
I've been thinking if it's a good idea to go to Klang Gates in
a week's time just to get more fruits.
 
All photos by Noelle Kan
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