Chow Kit and Kampung Bharu Heritage Walk
On the Saturdays I don’t play golf, we normally have a lie-in and wake up late. This Saturday was different.
‘We’re going on a tour with the Malaysian Cultural Group,’ Annetta told me. ‘To experience the Chow Kit Market and Kampung Bharu’
‘That sounds lovely,’ I said.
I can’t deny that I had qualms about this. I was expecting to wake up slowly after a long week at work. Breakfast in bed: boiled eggs, toast, marmalade, a large pot of tea – all whilst listening to Radio 4 on BBC iPlayer.
Instead, we drove across KL and parked the car at just before 8:30 am. The morning was still cool; the sun had come up not much more than an hour before and members of the cultural group were mingled on the pavement outside the Hilton Garden Hotel. Everybody introduced themselves. There were smiles and laughter and it felt like Annetta and I were on holiday again.
The tour guide was Elena, who was accompanied by her two charming children, Electra and Lukas. I was struck with how relaxed Elena was in bringing her children along to help. When the tour began it was indeed Electra who led the way, brandishing a broken tree branch.
On Jalan Raja Alang, we made our first stop. A small hole-in-the-wall that sold bags of fish crackers. In the shop next door, a man was making Murtabak on a hot griddle. Murtabak are square parcels of laminated pastry that are filled with all manner of things. These ones were filled with curried minced beef. The man worked the dough into a circular sheet using his fingers and the palms of his hands. He lifted the sheet, which was quite elastic, and slapped it onto the surface several times before putting some curry in the centre. Then, barely without any effort, he folded the edges of the sheet so that the curry centre was enclosed in a perfect secure square parcel. The parcel was then put on the hot griddle to cook before being flipped onto its other side.
One of the things I admire most about Malaysian street food – aside from its deliciousness – is the sheer artistry and skill of the people who create it. They rustle up intricate and flavourful dishes that would demoralize the most advanced cooks, and they do it as a piece of street theatre, making it look easy.
We purchased food and the sun, now a little higher in the sky, shined along the vista of Jalan Raja Alang. We entered the market, into the shade, and the noises and smells and colour crowded our senses. Fresh fish, shrimps and crabs lay on steel counters with eager market-holders beckoning us to buy some. Durians, mangoes, rambutans and dragon fruit were piled up in great slopes on wooden stalls that could barely take their weight. Men with trolleys – sometimes empty, sometimes fully laden – competed to make their way down the busy, narrow aisles between the market stalls shouting ‘Bam Bam!’ and ‘Lalu Lalu!’. Everyone felt at home. The market-holders wore cheeky smiles, happy to witness people who were clearly from somewhere foreign. Rows of slaughtered chickens lay with their feet in the air. Members of the cultural group aimed their cameras at the many coloured variety of produce. There were fruits and vegetables and meats displayed by different stall holders, all in their own independent ways. The stone floor of the market was dark and wet with deep gutters that strangers had to be wary of. The whole place felt timeless, like it hadn’t changed for decades.
We left the main market and entered back into the sunlight. In a narrow street, market stalls were open down one side and people on small motorcycles mingled with pedestrians, rolling their way through the crowd with their engines idling. At the end of this lane, we found the temple.
The Guru Nanak Darbar Tatt Khalsa Diwan Gurdwara was built in 1922, and its stately yellow and white façade stands between Chow Kit and Kampung Bharu. The word Gurdwara means place of worship and in the entrance hall, we all took off our shoes and put on headscarves. We were led into a large food hall where long rows of metal tables were laid out for people to eat at. Melodic Indian music played from loudspeakers that were linked to another room where three men played live. We were given steel plates and cups in which were placed a chapati, some yoghurt, masala tea and a sweet paste that tasted of cardamon and almonds. It was simple and delicious. The hall was cool and on one side there was a table of around eight women preparing food.
When we left the temple, it was clear that Elena’s children were becoming tired but still behaving impeccably. The sun was high and we could feel the heat. We arrived at a traditional wooden house in Kampung Bharu, and I was relieved to see there was a corrugated aluminium shelter that gave us relief from the sun. Elena told us some of the history of the house and showed us the back garden which had a tremendous view of the twin towers. It was then discovered that a member of the party was missing, so we waited under the shelter. A lovely Australian lady gave an impromptu salsa class under the shade, and it turned out that she was originally from Colombia. Annetta laughed as she tried to master the dance moves. The ladies danced in the middle and the men stood around the edge, not wanting to get involved.
When we reached the end of the tour, we sat in the shade of a restaurant not far from Kampung Bharu station and ate the Murtabak. Elena gave out Dokong – small fruits the size of cherries that had a light golden skin. We unpeeled and ate them, and they had a grapefruit-like flavour with a slightly bitter aftertaste. We also ate Longan, which looked very similar to the Dokong but were sweeter and tasted like lychees.
I’m glad I didn’t lie-in that Saturday. The Chow Kit market and Kampung Bharu are special places of colour and contrast – full of sounds, smells and flavours. I’m grateful to have taken part in such a well organised tour like this. When the next one comes around, I will certainly be there.
Review with many thanks to our guest, Mark Gerrard.
Photos with thanks to Terrence Perera, Zeff Khan, Maria Danilina and Anita Gerrard.
Tour with thanks to Elena Shim.
