No. 40 Bussorah Street – the address that still evokes a myriad of feelings inside me - happiness, sadness, confusion, anger, contentment and a longing for the good old days. It never fails to remind me of my childhood.

The family home of my late maternal grandfather, Ismail Bin Haji Ali, better known as “Wak Ma’il Koboi”, a clerk at Robinsons by day and a musician by night. I was just 5 when he passed on. Gone too soon, too soon.

The home where my late maternal grandmother, Hajah Asmah Bin Sahlan also known as “Wak Mah Merah” finally left her home sometime in the early 90s with the resettlement of the original residents due to the redevelopment of Kampong Glam. She was one of the last to leave. The move must have broken her heart. Sorry nenek, there was not much we can do then.

My family… my memories…

Of helping my grandmother sell her much-missed mee goreng, mee siam kasar, rendang, sambal sotong, sambal limpa, paru goreng and much more dishes as well as helping my mother sell kueh-muehs during the month of Ramadan. I learned how to whip up an awesome Roti John, scooping the kuehs nicely from the dulangs and wrapping them up in the brown paper, amongst other things. Great Job!

Of going to Masjid Sultan mostly to run and play around plus the most exciting part - catching grasshoppers!!! No insects were actually harmed.. errr...

Of waking up early in the morning to queue in line for the delicious nasi rawon and nasi jenganan from the late Wak Lan’s house. I can still vividly remember the layout of all the dishes on the amben - what an array!!

Of having my sister and cousins “ruining” the cemented back alley with our chalk drawings, playing lots of our own made-up games, playing “yeyeh” - I could jump over the head level those days. Those days are over.. sigh..

Of visiting every house during Hari Raya Aidilfitri amidst all the bersalam-salaman with a big smile etched on my face. It doesn't matter whether you have collected much, it is the sheer happiness and boisterousness of every family there that makes Bussorah Street the place to be on Hari Raya Aidilfitri. Missing this so much!

Of being a constant visitor at “Kedai Hassan” for tidbits and such or as we call then “beli apa-apa”, and rummaging through the rubbish bin for banana peels to make a puck to play tengteng... eewwww!

Of going to Metro for the air-con and the yearly shopping for Hari Raya clothes.. and to use the toilets too.

Of helping my grandmother sell Roti Paun for maybe 5 cents a piece by going from house to house .. ooh the aroma… I wished I had learned to bake from her.

Of nervously going inside “Kelab” or rather the gambling den at Kota (now Malay Heritage Centre) to look for Wak Yat, my late granduncle. It was an eye-opening experience... hehehe

Of helping my mother on Fridays when she sells food to the congregants coming out from Masjid Sultan after the end of Friday prayers. There was lots of food being sold with free Teh-O to boot! I was assigned to be the “dish-washer”... how I enjoyed doing it, plus I got paid too...

Of making paper boats out of newspapers and watching them float away in the drains on rainy days. What a wet happy sight!

Of falling, butt-first, off the long staircase of the house... ouch ouch ouch!!!

Of saying my tearful goodbyes to the house that holds some of the fondest and dearest memories I have kept with me throughout my life.

I am Iriana, fondly known as Yana Nyok.