A Stairway, Shag and A School

When I first saw the stairways it reminded me of the song. In fact, when one actually reaches the top and walk into Semuti its almost surreal. Its like being in a fairytale. I remember my first time visiting and I was immediately reminded of my own village up on the mountains. I was there again last weekend taking advantage of the hot lazy Sunday afternoon. And also, I had earlier promised to drive a friend there. I even solemnly declared that I would endeavour to climb the stairs despite my weak lungs and spend a bit of time at the family house. I didn't.

I was stopped by these five very nice village gentlemen who were sitting outside this house at the foot of the stairs. The host happens to be my friends uncle and after being formally introduced to the village elders, I was cordially invited to join. I politely declined their offer but when I saw what was prepared on the table I began to salivate like there was a Japanese porn star spreading her legs thereat. After much coaxing, I obliged. I must remember to be more sensitive than not to decline offers from village elders. Especially if its for a round of Langkau and fermented wild boar meat. And so what was supposed to be a short stay continued on for three hours or so.

I had several rolls of 'Tembakau Shag'. Very popular with the folks living close to our neighbour's border. I remember as a very young person back at my own village smoking a lot of this. Hence, the weak lungs, I think. Don't even bother to try because it tastes and smells like shit. Sometimes.

It was perhaps by divine intervention that the host ran out of Langkau because if the drinking went on, I would have been too inebriated to make that two hours drive back home. We finished two bottles of the poison and I was definitely there but not there enough. So I excused myself and insisted that my friend take me to the village stream where I dipped myself in super cool mountain water. It was refreshing and sobriety slowly kicked in.

So later, we walked the 30 minutes hike to the village school to send some items to my friends siblings who were boarders there. On our way, we met the village hunter carrying on his back and in his rattan basket what was a fresh kill. Yup, a small size wild boar but small enough to feed the family good meat for the next week or so. Along the way, fog and clouds slowly began to envelope the surrounding hills and villages around. It was just beautiful.

These are some of the school kids. Most are from neighbouring villages. The ones here had just finished their dinner and was monkeying around like any 7 or 8 year old should. The bastard in the white cap...is just a stupid drunk from the city.

It is a requirement at this village school that each student washes his or her own plate. I just wonder, if you actually do wash your plate after dinner if you're having dinner in the comfort of your home that is. I know some bastards and bitches don't because they just don't know how. But these kids does it with such enthusiast and fervent which I found to be a bit comical until I chanced upon what was at the front of the line.

These kids are so serious about cleanliness that they've got two other kids sitting at the end of the line for the sole purpose of checking each plates to make sure that they were squeaky clean. I mean really, really squeaky clean. The few who had to be sent back to the pipes didn't look too happy.

I left late in the evening a little sober this time, and was once again reminded that even in my busy schedule and fucked up dog eat dog world there is still hope for bastards like me. That I don't have to travel so far to experience beauty and simplicity in life. And in these excursions, I have learned one thing and that is it costs less then 50 fucking bucks to have a good time and some good high...for the soul.