Valuing heritage while moving with the times

HE lifted his gaze from his prepared text and spoke off the cuff slowly so that I could write it down verbatim.

“I love working in Penang. Nothing comes to a stop. Everything just moves. It is a joy to be working in Penang,” Hartasuma Sdn Bhd executive director Tan Sri Ravindran Menon said.

I learnt later that Ravindran, whose company is the concessionaire of the Penang Hill cable car project, is from Klang, Selangor.

He was speaking at the signing ceremony of a RM367.2mil financing facility from Bank Pembangunan Malaysia Bhd (BPMB) for the cable car, meaning the long-delayed project can finally move forward.

The plan is a 2.7km link from near Penang Botanic Gardens to Penang Hill, which will be able to carry up to 1,400 passengers an hour in each direction. Completion is slated for 2027.

The cable car is expected to unlock new economic opportunities, ease the old funicular’s congestion and widen access to the hill’s charms.

One of the many shops in Kampung Kacang Puteh, Buntong, Ipoh, which is packed full of tidbits.

Even as work begins, Chief Minister Chow Kon Yeow revealed another possibility, namely a second cable car line from Gurney Bay to the lower station of the Penang Hill link.

That would let visitors ride high up and view the sea with Kedah in the distance, then change cars for the hill view.

It will mean motorists can park at Gurney Bay instead of crowding into Jalan Kebun Bunga towards Penang Botanic Gardens.

Some people will always oppose progress, though.

They object to anything new, clinging to nostalgia instead of accepting change.

But cities cannot remain unchanged. Penang has shown it can evolve by investing in infrastructure and technology, modernising and still magnifying its heritage rather than replacing it.

The state’s approach to progress stands in contrast to other places that have struggled to leverage their heritage, like the birthplace of kacang putih in Ipoh.

During a drive to Perak, I visited the place where Malaysia’s kacang putih was born.

My attempt to search for classic murukku led me to a village in Buntong, Ipoh, where kacang putih first became a thriving industry.

It was my first visit to Kampung Kacang Puteh and I was stunned.

A cluster of sizeable shops stood side by side, with their shelves crammed with bags of murukku, spiced pea and nut mixes and other tidbits.

In my opinion, there was enough kacang putih in the village to feed an army.

I have long wondered why we call it kacang putih.

Only recently I learnt the snack and its name originated from pioneers who had come from Ettayapuram in Tamil Nadu, India, and settled at Gunung Cheroh.

Tragedy struck in 1973, when rockfall claimed 40 lives and destroyed 20 houses at the foothill of the limestone hills.

A year after the tragedy, the remaining villagers were moved to the current site.

Buntong is still synonymous with kacang putih. Wholesalers from other states – and even Singapore – come to source stock there.

Yet few Malaysians know about the birthplace of our beloved kacang putih, unless they are herded there in a tour bus.

There are resources online describing the village and its history, but you will have to know what to search for first.

It reminded me of the need for state governments to highlight and augment their unique heritage offerings while also moving forward and keeping up with the times.