Ijok - The aftermath.

Ijok-The aftermath.

I passed Ijok today on my way to Sekincang…. I hardly notice it ….except…ten days ago that Ijok became the Culinary Capital of Malaysia…. As gourmet paradise where the best ‘Rendang’…. The best sweet sour Talapia, the best ‘ Roti Canai’ was found here.

In the game of politics, on upmanship was even fought in stalls, eateries, restaurants….even under a tree.

The axiom… the best way to the local’s heart is through their food…. Was played by everybody who is anybody who is somebody of an affiliate…parties ….clubs associated with a clan that is associated with a leader who is associated with some big fish who is the distance cousin and so on and so forth.

There is /was an unwritten rule that no two different party is to be at the same place eating the same food at the same time.

So they say: The Chinese says “ One go, one come,” the Indian says “I come you go,” The Malay would say “ One come all go.”

The one that came… eat…paid up and go….swear that it was the best they have ever tasted…..even when they paid an arm for it….it was worth every cents….good value for money.

The one that came after the other went…..swore that it was the best and order tens of packs to take away for their grandmother to have a taste of this heavenly delights demonstrating the pinnacles of filial piety.

He….She….they….patronized every eateries….leaving no cooks….chefs….undiscovered…even some households..... suddenly developed an appetite of a rabbit…..genetically rabbits has no sense of fullness….they eat continuously, stopping only to rest or sleep.

I was there…. I have no reason whatsoever to be here….but I was here to soak up festivities and dynamics….then…..I got hungry….I went to a coffee shop to have some food…..everything was sold out except for fried rice.

I do not belong to any politic party and as such I do not have to please them….I shall call a spade a spade….the ‘What-was-that,’ was the worst fried rice I ever tasted. I protested silently….my dear wife was there to remind me…..lest I might end up on the chef’s chopping block to be stew in their cooking pot.

After all, these so called connoisseur have been jacked so high up in the stratosphere…....they will be in no mood, any mood at all for the hard landing- the reality check.

So I played politics….eating with gusto, relishing every mouthful-careful not to let my body-language betray me…. Finishing every grains, wash it down completely with ice-tea….Phew! paid an arm for it….and having to pretend to show that it was value for money…..I almost got carried away by wanting to shake his hand….like almost every politician who got carried away in their game.

This afternoon, as I passed….most of the eateries were empty save for a few locals….a far cry from the day of the yo….

‘To me this whole thing seems to be a silly joke,’ …the lyrics of a local band of the 70’s. …the Strollers with their song titled ‘Silly Joke’ DÉJÀ VU