We folded the front flap of our big shirts upward and tied both ends into a tight knot at our lower backs. That was how we made kangaroo pouches in which we tossed wild kemunting berries harvested from the shrubs sprawling near our wooden house. We were surrounded by an ocean of tall grass blades—the metropolis of dreadful snakes, trolls, and goblins. The savannah turned golden in the sweltering heat of a Sura Tengoh summer. The creaks of coconut palm leaves far above our heads seemed to play in time with the fervour of the South China Sea wind blowing landward from the nearby beach. We picked kemunting berries and more berries, twig to twig, until our small palms turned purple, our pouches bulged, and we looked like pregnant ladies craving wild sweets.
Kemunting steals some of the blackberry’s features—the shape, the colour. Pinched gently between thumb and index finger, the freshly picked fruit left dark purple stains on my sweaty fingertips, pressed against its dry, dusty skin. Its slightly coarse surface reminded me of the velvet that made up our school theatre’s stage drape.
We felt we had enough berries for the day, ma’am and sir. Let’s go home! Be careful not to step on snakes, alright?
At home, by the main staircase leading to the living room, we would kneel down and untie the knots. With that, a kemunting avalanche was triggered. The berries rolled downhill into a netted bucket stolen from Mother’s kitchen. Then they were washed thoroughly under tap water to remove impurities. Beneath the purple velvet skin hid tiny seeds the size of sesame, coated in sweet purple jelly. That was the part we sucked on through the overcast Dungun evenings.
Buoh ulat bulu was another wild fruit that painted the Dungun sunset lurid on my memory’s canvas. Shaped like a near-perfect pumpkin, its resplendent orange skin stood out among its younger green siblings that sprouted from a network of hairy liana plants climbing toward the sun. It sprawled across our neighbour’s fence like a vineyard. Its waxy surface felt like betel leaf, yet soft like turtle eggshell.
To eat buoh ulat bulu—well, here, take this orange one. Carefully tear open the skin. See these jelly-coated seeds? Yes, just like the kemunting we ate together. Suck them all. Sluurrppp. M’schuh. Aaah. Sweet, isn’t it? You want more? Here, take another. Don’t worry, we still have plenty at Pok Cik Rohing’s fence.
