KAMPUNG Baru Sungai Ruan in Raub, Pahang, is surrounded by lush hills and is still dotted with the type of wooden houses unique to a bygone era.
The village, which came into existence in then-Malaya during British rule, is home to mostly Cantonese-speaking residents.
A sculpture of a basket of fruits stands prominently at the village square, introducing visitors to the local produce. But it is the King of Fruits that have drawn tourists to the unassuming village lately.
A new mural was painted to welcome visitors to “Raub, the hometown of durians”.
Kwan Jit Wah, who is in his 70s, described Sungai Ruan as a “paradise”.
“People live in harmony while the fertile land brings us abundant crops,” said Kwan who has all the interesting tales of the village at his fingertips.
Fearing that valuable information about Sungai Ruan would be lost one day, he has taken the initiative to compile the new village’s history into a book.
Kwan still remembers moving into Sungai Ruan on April 4, 1951, when he was 11.
“It was supposed to be Children’s Day, but there was no celebration. We were all taken into this village in a bus, escorted by rifle-wielding Gurkha guards.
“MCA provided us with financial assistance of RM100 per household,” he recalled.
At the home of Lee Nam Sing, the aroma of durians permeated through the damp air on a gloomy afternoon.
Nam Sing, 28, was peeling the thorny fruit with a knife. Next to him, several employees separated the durian seeds from the creamy pulp. Freezers filled to the brim with frozen durian hummed in the background.
It is a cottage industry fuelled by the export of durian to China. Part of it is also supplied to bakeries.
“During peak season, we process 300 to 600kg of durian a day from 6am to 11pm,” Nam Sing said. His hands moved fast; and he did not slow down a bit when he spoke. The saying of “time is money” came to mind as one witnessed his hard work.
The durians – Musang King, D24, Teka, 101, and others – are from his family orchard.
Nam Sing used to sell them at Gotong Jaya, but switched to this business to cater to demand from China.
When time permits, he still brings tourists to his orchard to enjoy the much-loved fruits amid the durian trees.
“The pace of life is slow here,” he said.
Tourists who come here for durians also like to make a pitstop at Restoran Sungai Ruan, a Chinese kopitiam-style restaurant in the main street of the village.
Roasted pork is highly sought after at this 35-year-old eatery, and it is usually sold out by noon every day.
“We use charcoal fire to roast the pork. The meat tastes better this way,” Lee Mooi Kuen, 45, said.
Other crowd-pullers include pai kuat wong (spare ribs king) and stir-fried wild boar, which comes in several flavours – curry, kung po or geong chong (ginger and scallion).
Mooi Kuen’s late father used to helm the operations of the restaurant, but now she runs it together with her mother and siblings, and continues to beckon customers with the time-tested recipes.
Gesturing at the calming scenery, former village head Datuk Lim Nget Yoon said she preferred to live in the village than in a noisy and crowded city.
She would know, since she left the new village for Kuala Lumpur when she was 18, and subsequently pursued a career as an accountant and got married there.
But city life was not her cup of tea. With her husband in tow, Lim relocated back to Sungai Ruan and never left again.
The mother of three adores Sungai Ruan for the simple and friendly villagers who know each other, and would exchange banter whenever they met in the village kopitiam – a scarce trait among busy city dwellers.
“Most importantly, people here look out for each other in times of need,” she said.
This seems to be the very reason why most residents stay put in the new village.
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