When people think about Penang, they tend to remember its UNESCO Heritage Sites, those streets of George Town that are filled with blasts from the past. Walking in that area of Penang, with various street art and trendy cafés, you can truly breathe in the multicultural miasma that comes to life. In this anthology, you will doubtless be able to experience this for yourselves, even if it’s just through the words of others. But what of Penang’s natural heritage? For all that Penang has gone through rapid urbanisation, it still harbours a lot of natural charms. Even on highways, you can see the green of trees or the sparkling blue of the sea. The beach is never too far away and you can always find a green space hiding amidst the glass and steel of modern architecture. While NutMag has never explicitly stated that stories must be set in Penang, this year’s anthology is different. With its theme being Home Groan, the Penang-ness of this year’s NutMag is turned up extra high. This time, I took more care in thinking about my story’s setting. Penang is small, especially when you think exclusively about the island. I’ve heard enough times the joke about how you can never get lost driving here, unless you hit the bridge – because that’s when you know you’ve truly messed up. But humans are creatures of habit, tending to roam more where we are used to. I’m such a creature. Even driving in George Town, that heritage area that’s so popular, I need to have Google Maps open so I don’t end up going around in circles. How was I going to write something new if I only knew those small circles I was used to? In the end, as I find myself doing with my writing of late, I dredged up memories and lessons I learned while studying Environmental Biology in USM. During our first year, all us Bio kids had to live for 5 days in the jungle. We didn’t sleep on the floor or anything – there was food prepared, electricity, plumbing, and even Wi-Fi – but it was definitely a wholly new experience. Every morning, we would leave our base and head to some new ecosystem to learn and explore and discover. It was physically and mentally exhausting (we had homework), but I would give so much to go back to that week of being so close to nature. This isn’t what my story is about. Ash to Ashes is set in Penang National Park, the same ulu place I lived in for 5 days, and there are USM Bio kids involved. That’s about where the similarities end. The smallest National Park in the world Here, I want to share a bit more about the smallest national park in the world. First of all, entrance is free, so you can and should go visit. Hiking there isn’t particularly difficult, but you can spend hours there depending on how far in you want to go. You will see a river, beaches, and, if you keep your eyes open, a myriad of wildlife. The best part? Penang has no land leeches, which I learned to hate during my other fieldtrips. Be sure to bring mosquito repellent, though. If you’re not up for the walk, you can always go on a boat cruise. In the park, you will find yourself overwhelmed by all the things you can do. There is a canopy walkway that stretches 210 meters, just 15 minutes from the entrance. You can go fishing, or just sit on the beach and try to spot some otters. I’ve been lucky enough to do the latter two; wasn’t too successful with the fishing though. The beaches are perfect for a picnic and a swim. There aren’t too many tourists there, unlike at Batu Ferringhi. You can visit the Turtle Conservation Centre at Pantai Kerachut, one of the few places where green turles and olive ridley turtles still land in Penang. Otherwise, you can observe the natural wonder of a meromictic lake, with its upper layer of fresh water and lower layer of sea water. You don’t have to pay the cost of flying to Australia to see the other one. If you find yourself not wanting to leave at the end of the day, you can camp at one of the two campsites ready there. Although this is just a brief overview of the charms of Penang National Park, I hope that I’ve at least piqued your interest in it. If I haven’t, perhaps this excerpt of my story can do better. Ash to Ashes (Excerpt); Celine WuThe sound of laughter breaks the silence of the morning and sends more than a couple of birds into flight. From my perch on a high branch of a tree, I look around for the source of the disturbance. There, along the paved trail, is a large group of young adult humans, walking and sweating and chatting. Entranced by them, I descend from my vantage point and approach the group. Abah and Mama always told me to stay away from the treeline, ever wary of that long strip cleared of trees and other growing things. I never understood that edict and still do not. The humans cannot see us, after all. What is there to fear, then? Still, I try to be an obedient child and keep from that area—staying at least 15 metres away at all times, in fact. But twice a year, when the students trek in and out of Penang’s National Park, I can’t help but go against that rule. I follow them from the safety of the shadows cast by the forest’s canopy. I have to slow my pace to keep abreast of them. The uneven earth below my feet, veined through with tree roots and obscured by leaf litter, is more familiar to me than the back of my hand. The students have more trouble, even if they are walking on pavement. The trail is old, with cracks where grasses sprout and tiny pools collect brownish water. The humans avoid these, which confuses me even though I have observed it for years. Are those features not also part of the path? Do they not give the trail its character? I giggle at their foolishness. The humans revel in the sudden breeze rifling through the leaves overhead. The group climbs up moss-covered stone steps, cross damp wooden bridges that bring the tops of their heads high enough that low-hanging branches caress them. They wade across a narrow and shallow brook, compressing the golden sand beneath their feet. The students complain about and swat at mosquitoes that seek them out and alight on any patch of skin bared to the air. It takes almost half an hour from when I joined their troupe for them to reach their destination. That’s longer than usual, I think. I watch as the tired students’ eyes brighten when they see the building nestled not far from the beach. Some rush towards a rope swing, ignoring their teacher’s call to go to the pier and help unload their luggage. I have spirited myself up the tree where the swing is secured. Many of the students are on the beach now. Only a few of them make their way to the pier. A plump girl exits the trail, breathing heavily, her T-shirt soaked through. The teacher following behind her asks if she is okay. My features twist into a sympathetic grimace. Ah, so this pack has someone slowing them down. It is strange that the girl doesn’t have friends asking after her as well. “Lia!” My ponderings are cut off by the shock of being called. “You better go home now before I tell your parents!” I can’t meet the eyes of the langur mother chiding me. She is right. I shouldn’t be here at all. And she’s taking a risk herself to warn me. “Yes, Makcik. I’m going right now!” Under the watchful gaze of Makcik Langur, I don’t dare to dither. But at the same time, I desperately want to stay, even for just a bit longer, to observe the humans in their fun. Want to read the whole story? Click on the button below to get a copy of the anthology!
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