Tales that ride on the wings of a fruit bat

Tales that ride on the wings of a fruit bat

 By Wan Chwee Seng

Star2 November 4, 2016

As dusk fades into night, a fruit bat swoops low across the patio and streaks toward a neighbouring longan tree veiled in a cobweb of fishing net.

The sight transports me to another time and place.

World War II had just ended. In a darkening sky, a dark mass winged its way slowly and silently above grandpa’s house in Batu Berendam, Malacca. Lingering fear of war planes made us gazed at the overhead spectacle with a tinge of apprehension.

Flying foxes winging their way toward a rambutan tree

Suddenly, the boughs of a nearby rambutan tree began to shake as if hit by a gust of wind. Murky shapes and unseen plumage fluttered among the foliage. Giant fruit bats or flying foxes had descended on the tree to feast on the ripe rambutans. With veiled threats and shouts, my young cousins tried to scare them away. They rose and hovered momentarily above the tree and then settled down to resume their feast.

A rambutan tree

The next morning, seeds and rambutan rinds littered the ground while spiny shells hung like sea urchins from half-barren branches.

My cousin, Alan, had watched the unfolding drama with keen interest. Years on, the night’s incident would remain vivid in his memory.

On an adjacent land, next to the village well, stood a rambutan tree which in season was laden with luscious fruits. The tree was the pride and joy of our grandaunt and the envy of the village kids. She kept a vigilant watch on her prized tree and made it clear that it was strictly off-limits to the mischievous kids who roamed the neighbourhood.

On his way to the well, Alan would often stop to gaze longingly at the succulent fruits and wondered about their reputed sweetness.

One evening, on learning that grandaunt and her family were out in town, he decided to pull a prank on her and take the opportunity to savour the fruits.

Safely and comfortably ensconced on the best branch, his deft fingers began to pry open the spiny shells. Relishing the sweet and juicy flesh, he let the seeds and part of the rinds fall to the ground, while half-broken rinds were left to dangle from the branches.

Comfortably ensconced on the branch of a rambutan tree

Early the next morning on his way to the village well, Alan noticed grandaunt inspecting her rambutan tree. The scene that met her eyes bore the tell-tale signs of a fruit tree that had been foraged by flying foxes. Upset, she let loose a stream of expletives in her peranakan patois. Hearing grandaunt berating the innocent flying foxes, a broad grin spread across young Alan’s tanned face as he tried to stifle a chuckle.

Another evening found him creeping stealthily under the leafy canopy of tapioca plants on grandaunt’s tapioca patch.

In the fast fading light, he began to dig hurriedly at the base of a mature tapioca plant until the tuberous roots were exposed. From the clump of tubers, he selected three large ones. The loose soil was carefully compacted and covered with dried leaves until all traces of encroachment had been well concealed.

Uprooting a tapioca plant

The acrid smell of smoke and charred wood, mingled with the fragrant scent of burnt tapioca permeated the night air, as a bunch of playful youngsters sat round a smouldering wood fire to relish the simple yet delicious fare.

As the days slipped by without any hue and cry from grandaunt, the kids knew the evening foray had gone undetected. Later, if she discovered some of her tapioca was missing, she would most probably lay the blame on some burrowing rodents.

As night thickens, the wingtip of a bat brushes against my ear and my thoughts snap back to the present. Alone in the darkness, I smile to myself, as I recall the youthful pranks that Alan’s wife, Gillian, related to us. I remember life in the kampung was quiet and peaceful. We would roam barefoot around the whole neighbourhood without our parents having to worry about us getting abducted or robbed.

As burglary and theft were practically unheard of then, the doors of houses were open from morning till dusk and we could move freely in and out of the houses. However, fruits and tapioca occasionally went missing and the most likely culprits were the “foraging flying foxes” and the “burrowing rodents”.