I love houses. I am a house lover – any type of house. Old, new, mansions, terraced, village houses – you name it, I love exploring them.
Like everyone else, I adore bungalows with ample gardens around them. Who doesn’t? It is everyone’s dream to live in one – I believe so.
But sad to say, we see some of these beautifully designed houses vacant – some abandoned. There must be a good reason for the owners to just leave the homes that had once seen and heard laughter, and the hustle and bustle of a big, happy family.
Take the late tycoon Tan Sri Loh Boon Siew’s villa in Penang, for example. By the beach – a quiet, serene, imposing building – separated from the busy Ferringhi Road by a mere fence.
Said to be the most expensive property in Penang, the Boon Siew villa was demolished recently to make way for a condominium complex – and there goes another beauty in the heart of bustling Penang.
Apart from the tragedy that befell the family in 1987, the house must have seen its fair share of laughter, tears, sadness and happiness through the years. Boon Siew’s second son, Loh Kah Kheng, was found dead in his bedroom, with his hands bound with telephone wires.
Kah Kheng, the designated heir, was just 39.
Any tragedy would have shattered lives – and despite an RM500,000 reward, the perpetrator was never found.
I remember passing the road hundreds of times over the years. My eyes would never fail to take a quick glance at the building. Not just the house, but the lush garden surrounding it, and the sea behind the façade.
If you watched P. Ramlee movies made in the ’50s and ’60s, you would have seen the familiarities – maybe that was the dream design then.
There was always a swing perched on a patch of grass. Little children would never want to leave the garden or the beach.
Houses and memories
When I was in primary school, my mother bought a one-and-a-half-storey, three-room house in Taman Sungai Abong in Muar (main image).
I call it a one-and-a-half-storey house because if we entered through the front door, it would lead to the family hall and a spot where we placed the dining table. At the side of the dining table was a small staircase leading to the kitchen. Next to the kitchen was a small room, occupied by me and an elder brother.
From the family hall, another wooden staircase – about 15 steps – led to another two rooms. There was only one bathroom. Underneath the staircase was our audio corner – a hi-fi with big speakers. I clearly remember how, at night, we would huddle together in the living room to listen to the FM Stereo channel and old songs played on vinyl and later, cartridges.
Over the years, my mum extended the house with a bigger kitchen, and the small kitchen was turned into a TV room. The bathroom was extended further back, separating the toilet. The backyard remained ample.
What I loved most about the house was that it stood on its own. I dare not call it a bungalow, but we used to run around the house during the day. At night, as I grew up, I would take evening walks around the house with a torchlight, looking for snails and frogs (I still do this at our present house).
The garden in front of the house served as a parking spot for my elder siblings when they came home. There was a porch leading from the kitchen, where the whole family would sit and have coffee in the afternoons.
I would then dream of owning a house like that – bigger, a room each for everyone, more space to run around, and yes, an electronic gate. I envied a cousin who had a gate that swung open with the press of a button.
Then I started working, later married my beau, and a bundle of joy soon made her appearance. She is Nor Athira.
My wife was thinking of buying a house, but with what little we earned back then, a small terrace house was all we could afford.
It was located in Taman Ampang Indah, in Ampang, Selangor. A great neighbourhood with equally good neighbours – my sister lived a few doors away, and my mum was staying with her after my stepfather passed away. Then my brother moved into the same neighbourhood – it was really great. Everything was within walking distance. The other siblings would drop by once in a while.
The house, though, looked cramped. There were three rooms upstairs, a kitchen, a hall – the basics we needed for a small family. One room was occupied by a maid, the other was kept for guests.
But secretly, I was unhappy with the size. I wanted something more spacious. I asked for a transfer.
My editor was willing to move me out. But where? The nearest and only branch we had then was in Klang. I took the offer, sold the little house, and rented a bigger terrace house there.
The house in Klang was fairly big – 22×75 – with four rooms, three bathrooms. By then, another bundle of joy had joined us – Shahrul Aiman. The house had ample parking space for two, a decent-sized family room upstairs, and a balcony overlooking the row of houses in front. Another great neighbourhood. The office was just a few minutes’ drive away.
Yet, we were still without a house to call our own. No matter how nice the house was, it wasn’t ours. And I secretly still harboured thoughts of my “dream house”.
Two years later, while house hunting, we saw an advert for a housing estate in Sungai Buaya, Rawang.
Yes, it was out of the way – but for a corner-lot terrace house with ample space next to it, it was really close to what I had been dreaming of.
There were talks of an international airport being built in Rawang. Sadly, the project never took off. Sungai Buaya was in a mess then.
After some haggling, we managed to get back whatever we had paid for.
With some money in hand and a bank loan ready to be disbursed, we became desperate. We drove further up and spoke to a real estate agent. He recommended a house – one you’d only appreciate by taking a look at it.
It was love at first sight
A white single-storey house stood in the middle of a 6,000 sq ft land. Not exactly a mansion – far from it – but we loved it, and the kids loved it more.
It was a modest three-room home with two bathrooms. A standard house – no renovation – but the grass had already been planted, and it looked like it had been well taken care of by the tenant. The kind of house that would now fetch RM1 million even in the suburbs of Kuala Lumpur.
We got it for a steal
We took the offer! Less than two months later, we moved in. My first task – automate the front gate. We also installed kitchen cabinets. A typical Malaysian family!
We had great neighbours – to the left, a local married to an Indonesian with two kids. To the right, a German expat married to a Sarawakian, with a huge German Shepherd which later became our friend.
No one stayed in the house behind or in front of us. It was a quiet neighbourhood. Guests could park anywhere.
Over the years, with another bundle of joy (Nor Adriana) arriving, we extended the house, adding more rooms – remember, I wanted everyone to have their own room.
We still had enough space for the kids (and me!) to run around.
Our domestic helper had a room next to the kitchen, with an attached bathroom. The kids had their own rooms, although most of the time, they would lay mattresses next to our bed in the master bedroom for a sleepover.
There is a family room between the bedrooms, so the front living room is seldom used. The dining room is separated from both the kitchen and living room, so the kids can still enjoy their meals while we entertain guests.
The new extension had a concrete roof. I remember the kids playing badminton on the rooftop even at night. As they grew up, they outgrew the space – it became too hot during the day. But we still enjoy the Bukit Sentosa skyline in the evenings, once in a while.
Eventually, I decided to fully utilise the rooftop. I built a room – now my office – and put a roof over it. I often spend time there watching the sunset in the evenings. I take care of about 10 pots of plants daily.
Now, it is Nor Athira’s son, Xavian’s turn to run around the house, mess with the soil, plant trees – and his favourite spot is the rooftop.
There was a huge mango tree behind the house – a typical feature of a Muarian house – but the white ants killed it recently.
There are fewer abandoned houses in the neighbourhood now. Most have been sold, some extensively renovated. The neighbours are kind enough to understand the need for guests to park.
The neighbourhood is gated and guarded. Residents use access stickers to get in and out, while guests are required to register with the guard. In the evening, the night guard patrols the area on his motorcycle.
The only setback is that with more people moving into Bukit Sentosa, the congestion gets worse – especially in the morning. We now have no fewer than five traffic-light junctions, five petrol stations, a police station, a fire station – and it’s confirmed that a government clinic will be built nearby soon.
We also have our fair share of fast-food outlets – two KFCs, a McDonald’s, a Pizza Hut – and plenty of other food outlets ready to serve.
While we prosper here, the house in Taman Sungai Abong in Muar is rotting – ready to fall on its knees anytime.
It is complicated, and we decided to leave it as it is, while we stay in our respective houses. The kids have their own abodes, but they come home often.
And life goes on for us.
