And the great balik kampung exodus again….

I cringe during any festive season where humans join the great exodus to balik kampung. I cringe when I hear of the hours of traffic jam that adult humans subject their young children to, I cringe even more and feel so sad when I read about accidents on the road, especially fatal ones.

Is the exodus really worth sacrificing your lives?

And whenever these seasons approach, I am once again, so, so thankful I had a very wise father who broke tradition and would tell us, “Do NOT come back for Chinese New Year, stay safe where you are. Do NOT travel.”

My parents lived in Ipoh those days, we were (still are) in Subang Jaya and my elder sibling, in Singapore at the time (later migrated to a guailoh country).

So in those early years when we did not join the crazy balik kampung exodus, Chinese New Year was quiet for us (what a relief, as I’m so afraid of noise, crowds and meaningless small talk). We would drive down to the quiet streets of KL and visit the parks.

It’s not that my father didn’t want us to visit. He did, very much so, but not at the expense of risking our lives and braving the ridiculous traffic jams just to join the bandwagon of balik kampung for a festival. Just to preserve the tradition – no. It isn’t worth it.

I remember each time after the Chinese New Year holidays, when I went back to work, I’d hear my colleagues lamenting about their balik kampung trips, how a normal 2-hour journey took 8 hours or more, how their young children cried in the car. I felt sorry for their children and so thankful for my father’s wisdom.

So, I’m my father’s daughter and I will gladly not participate in dangerous cultural practices. Those can go. Safety first. And every day is a good day, as long as you do some good. The dates on the calendar are just numbers to me.

My father said the same thing for Cheng Beng too. At that time, the traffic jam wasn’t as bad as it is these days. Nowadays, the Cheng Beng jam is as bad, if not worse than the Chinese New Year jams. And it doesn’t matter which weekend you choose in that month. Every weekend is just as bad.

Why do you have to honour your ancestors only during that period, my father would ask. Why can’t you honour them at other times? At all times? Do some good deeds in their name, he would say. At any time.

The moment we could afford it, we invited my parents (as I’m the only child left in Malaysia so it became my sole duty to look after them) to live in our elderly-friendly apartment near us, in the Klang Valley. (We later moved them to our first house, even nearer to us now.)

My mother was shocked that my father said an instant “YES” to move to Subang Jaya even though he had lived in Perak all his life. He was willing to be uprooted, to be away from all his decades-old good friends, to sell his house and move to the Klang Valley. I knew why. It was so that he wouldn’t inconvenience us having to travel the distance from Subang Jaya to Ipoh, with our children and our two dogs, to visit them.

My father passed away in January 2017. But his wisdom lives on in me.

So, if you have to join that balik kampung exodus, please be safe.

P.S. I’m thankful both our children live very near us (in the same town, minutes away). Even if one day they do not, I will follow what my father did and never subject them to any travelling during festive seasons. It just isn’t worth it.