My international and English friends who are studying in Leeds should come to Malaysia and join us Manglish speakers for a Mamak session.
Because the food being sold at these humble stalls are just delicious; and of course, cheap. There’s nowhere else in the world where you can get Roti Telur, or “Indian Egg pancakes” (a very wrong and inaccurate interpretation of the delicacy by that one shop owner in Kirkgate Market) for RM2 a.k.a two ringgit a.k.a less than 40 PENCE OKAY?!
Usually, I would go to a Mamak to watch football and scream shamelessly at the projector screen whenever Arsenal scores while my friends attempt to conceal their embarrassment. Quite often I’m the only Gooner at a Mamak in Kota Kemuning who expresses their sheer joy of leading in the game. In retrospect, I can just imagine them thinking “y u do diz” whenever that happens.
I don’t have a lot of grand memories of Mamak sessions. Memories of chilling at a Mamak are always vague, blurred with laughter and heartfelt warmth amongst friends, no matter what race or religion, at midnight; the sky occasionally intruded by the sweet-flavored puffs of Shisha smoke. Not a fan of Shisha at all. There was once I tried it and went back to go for a run only to feel the unhealthy effects of it immediately such as feeling out of breath way too soon.
I just came back from a Mamak session with the Kuching gang. I already miss having Kolo Mee and Kuey Chap for breakfast, pork belly for dinner and durian all day… ERRRRR DAY.
I’m sleepy but filled with content. There are a million reasons on why I’m glad to be where I am now and I hope you can think of ten right now and wait for the magic to work. Stay happy everyone. No matter where you are.
p.s. The recent Kuching trip deserves a post of its own. So, its time will come soon.