‘Sometimes the simplest meals bring the greatest joy.’ – Unknown
‘Sharing a meal with friends brings out the true flavors of life.’ – Unknown
‘Sometimes, it’s the simple pleasures that leave the most lasting impressions.’ – Unknown
In the old days in the interior of Sarawak, any canned or tinned food was known as “sadin” (a corruption of the word “sardine”).
This term was commonly used by the Ibans in their remote longhouse settlements.
The taste of these sadin used to be nice, but somehow they no longer please the palate.
Perhaps the manufacturing process has changed, or maybe our sense of taste has evolved. Who knows?
Let’s take “sadin pusu” (canned anchovies) as an example. Why is it not as tasty as it was in the 1960s?
When “sadin pusu” first appeared at a tuckshop by the river at our old Kedap longhouse in Saratok, a small can cost about one dollar (no ringgit yet in those days).
I recall that my friends and I from Nanga Assam Primary School would contribute 20 cents each to buy one can from Ah Chik, the tuckshop operator, whose wife was an Iban. We would bring cooked rice from our boarding school and eat it with the “sadin pusu”.
To us, it was the tastiest meal of the week. Sometimes we would share the cost with a sixth person who would go to the shop on our behalf, and we would wait about 800 meters away in the woods to save our energy.
There were regular trips to get the tasty “sadin pusu” or other “sadin” like “sadin kaya” that we used as a spread on cream crackers.
The group of friends included me, my third cousins, Kimboi Bungin and Madil Jatan of Lubok Bundung longhouse; my second cousin Liap Ujih as well as another second cousin Majit Chundi of Munggu Embawang longhouse; and my nephew Endawi Anggun of our Kedap longhouse.
Now that the longboats have long deserted the Melupa River, the river kings are aplenty.
Once, even the river kings failed to prey on my relative who was enjoying barbequed chicken wings with my two brothers and two others by the Kedap waterfront.
One time, Ah Chik had too much of the local brew “chap langkau” with an uncle of mine.
I happened to run an errand to buy a few canned items from his tuckshop at around 7:30 pm.
He said, “Tidak dagang, suka hati ambik (No sale; up to you to take).”
I took three items, including “sadin manuk kari” (curry chicken from China), “sadin sapi” (Great Wall corned beef), and a “sadin ikan” (China-made sardine), which cost around three dollars.
But because of “tidak dagang”, I left without paying and returned to Ah Chik with the same courtesy.
When I brought the items back to my father, Salok, he wanted an explanation of why I didn’t pay.
He just laughed it off and said he would go and pay the next day when Ah Chik became sober.
However, there was no proof of him honouring his promise, as it was said in front of family members only.
I noticed that some canned food for sale often exceeded their expiry dates, but longhouse folk knew nothing about this fact and didn’t care.
One could see the rusty edges and other signs of ageing on the canned items.
Most families couldn’t afford tinned stuff and had little need for them, as fish, prawns, birds, and wild animals were aplenty during those years.
Most families also reared chickens, and we had around 200 chickens of all sizes roaming around a fenced area of about 30 acres at our farmhouse upriver above Nanga Assam.
But the tasty canned stuff in those years was a shortcut to enjoying a tastier meal, provided one could afford it.
Throughout our varsity days, canned food served as a time saviour when cooking was not allowed in the hostel.
Even when we stayed outside campus, a meal comprising one packet of Maggie mee plus a small “sadin ikan” was sufficient for a hungry undergraduate bent on beating the deadline for assignments.
Upon graduation in 1979, I told myself to take it easy on canned food.
My cupboard was full of tinned stuff, especially those four-legged items to satisfy my cravings all those growing up and schooling years.
After four months of overfeeding with tinned items, I put an abrupt stop and spent some money cutting new pants for sizes 32″ and 33″. Since 1983, my waist size has fluctuated between 32″ and 35″.
Now it is a cool 33. I still can use pants I made or purchased 40 years ago provided they are still in good condition.
And they certainly are though they have seen better days. Durban, Levis, Camel, Crocodile, Lee, Alain Delon, Elba, Valentino, and a few others won’t let you down.
Once in 1982, while accompanying a bus full of teacher trainees to Kabong’s Tanjung Kembang Beach, we brought a lot of bread loaves and Great Wall “sadin sapi.”
Just for fun, a male trainee suggested we have bread and “sadin sapi” eating contest. About ten or so took part, including two Iban female trainees.
One of them won, but I refused to be counted as a participant for being the only lecturer around though I easily finished taking the whole loaf of bread and one can of “sadin sapi” much earlier than her, thanks to my “private training in the confines of my home.”
Married life saw a shift in taking canned stuff, but I returned to my old mode of taking them while staying with a Filipino colleague in Bandar Seri Begawan Brunei from 1997 to early 2002.
Now, staying in a rented room near our present office, I do have stock of some canned food stuff but seldom take them as downstairs is situated the popular Makansari food outlet in Metrocity, Matang.
The views expressed here are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of the Sarawak Tribune.
