I born in a rubber estate situated at the edge corner of the Malaysian map. My father was a religious teacher who registered himself as Peneroka Felda to top up his gross pay and to secure our living. All my tuition fees are the combines of ringgit and cents from the cup of latex. From the bowl of rice I eat to the Oxford dictionary is all from sweat of my parents and the rubber tree services. That is the most reason I never forgive for those who insult my hometown and my parent’s profession. To me, the rubber tree, the way I brought up and parent is too intimate and critics on those matters are illegal. 
To be able speak and write in English and graduate in the local university, is never come across in my mind. It was not even a dot in my dream to own a house or a car. I was only a kid who always with the wooden gun while waiting my parents taps the rubber trees. Whenever my father grinding his rubber tapping knife, he always keep reminding me not to be like him when I grow up. That is the real picture of a kampong boy of me.
Day varies from day to day. I grew up and attended school in a boarding school in the city. To some extent it had the effect of good and bad for me. I began to learn to recognize without parents. I also accept foreign influence and make friends with various classes. But I never forgot my roots- the motion of my life with the help of rubber trees.These days I'm an adult and have two small children. I am looking forward to telling my kids about how difficult my parents in raising me as a rubber tapper .Going hometown when a pocket full and festive holiday season is a practical traditions to me.
But I saw a different mode when I went back recently. It reflects the slight variations in my village. The least, apparently the rubber price has soared to 20 dollars per kilogram. I saw a lil bit changes where it shouldn’t be happened where near the mosque there was a mini karaoke. As for me it is an outbreak of stupid that I never agree. Fair enough if tok imam‘s speech in angst ridden.
The folks now look more stylish and they are smart. I heard stories some of them had ordered the brand new Proton Inspira. Wah.. Okay it’s an achievement.
I heard the news on TV3; their income reaches RM 50K per month. Fuh. It is much better than the salary of my director general. I think kind of like a pension now and back to hometown. Hone the blade cuts seems better than office work where you don’t have to worry about attending the meetings while eating liver, reports preparation , make a sweet face in the turbulent stomach.
I believe the story is being fabricated for the political purposes only. Sensation for votes, I guess. According to my father, RM 20 per kilo is only counted after it becomes scrap rubber so that rubber in the cup is remaining RM 7 per kilo. A lil bit higher than the normal price.Anti-climax.
The increment of rubber price has been widespread in mainstream media now. But in reality, the fact that there is certainly price up is true but not as told. I was carried away this story until it is back to KL in a very congested road. Twelve hours on the highway may break my bone fractures.
I feel pity to my kids. Shahnaz always cried and she wants to crawl like what she did at home while as usual always asked her Magika CD to be repeated. A fun experience on home and wonder mixed with fatigue. Rubber stories is really affected me. I think that is the way of thinking, as the son of a rubber tapper living in a rubber plantation.
