Like Langkawi's "Jewel of Kedah" monicker, Kedah state has its own honorific, Darul Aman, meaning "Abode of Peace". However, it was not always so. The history of the island, as of the Malaya Archipelago of which it is a part, is a tumultuous one.
Kedah has a Hindu-Buddhist history. Part of a Hindu Kingdom around the 5th century, Buddhism spread under the influence of Indonesian Srivijaya from the 7th century, while Hinduism was reasserted as the Chola dynasty invaded from Southern India and ruled in the 11th century.
Islam came to Kedah in the 12th century as one of the first sultanates in the area of modern-day Malaysia. Its spread throughout the archipelago was helped by conversion of the royal and ruling classes. Other regions, including the influential Malacca, soon followed suit.
In the 15th century, Kedah was part of Siam (modern Thailand), but was then conquered by the powerful sultanate of Malacca. Subsequently, in the 17th century, the Portuguese attacked Kedah, having themselves conquered Malacca and by the 18th century, fearing a Siamese invasion, the sultanate called on the protection of the British.
It is at this point in the island's history that a young woman named Mahsuri, whose parents moved from their native Phuket to Langkawi, caught the eye of the chieftain's son, Wan Darus, who soon became her betrothed. Being a warrior, however, he left for battle against the advancing Siamese army. During his absence, the pulchritudinous (there's that word again) Mahsuri struck up a friendship with a wandering musician, which was misconstrued as romantic infidelity. Accused of adultery by the envious women of the village, she was sentenced to death. However, despite repeated attempts, only her family's own blade could pierce her heart and white blood was said to emanate from her fatal wound. The manner of her death is said to be testament to her innocence and with her final breaths she cursed the island to remain barren and unprosperous for seven generations.
Indeed, the following 200 years, approximately seven generations, saw the island and Malaya in general suffer a litany of indignities, from crop failures, natural disasters, invasion and colonisation. The farmers themselves burnt fields of rice (at Beras Terbakar) rather than let it fall into the hands of the Siamese.
Langkawi and much of the land in the Malay Archipelago spent the past couple of centuries being bounced around and swapped like trading cards between the British and the Dutch, who unscrupulously reneged on agreements, signed treaties that served only their own ends, and generally behaved boarishly. This was largely in an effort to keep land out of the hands of the French, and also to protect it from Siam, which was itself under attack from Burma (Myanmar) in the north. Kedah spent a brief spell during WWII under Japanese occupation before being handed back to the British and finally attaining its current independence in the second half of the 20th century.
Today, Langkawi has been bestowed duty-free status by the government and Geopark status by UNESCO. This has led to a thriving tourist industry over the past couple of decades and some say that the curse has been lifted. Or has it?
We hired a pair of mountain bikes today to take out onto the relative quiet island roads. After a frightening demonstration of Newton's second law, we made a brief pit-stop at a nearby bicycle shop to get the disc brake pads replaced on my bike, before I could demonstrate conservation of momentum with any passing objects.
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| Cursed bicycles |
En route, we came upon a few men crowded at a safe distance from a snake on the path.
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| Cursed snake |
Bright green, with a darker section at the end of its tail, this turned out to be a red-tailed green ratsnake. Although harmless to humans, its appearance across our path seemed ominous. It inched its way across the hot tarmac but sped off into the bush once it reached the other side.
A leisurely 8km cycle brought us to an aberration in the Malaysian agricultural landscape - a dairy. More specifically, a buffalo farm, which produces milk, ice cream, and mozzarella cheese. After yesterday's visit to Red Tomato, we picked up a tub containing a milky mozzarella ball, planning a caprese salad for dinner. We fed the placid buffalo and made to leave.
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| Cursed buffalo |
On leaving, we discovered K's front tyre was completely flat. Facing a long walk back to the bicycle shop, we chose instead to proceed to our next destination on foot after indications that we could expect to find help at the next major road.
Civilisation came in the form of a quad-bike hire shop. While providing some much-needed iced water and a bicycle pump, the prognosis was not good. The inner tube had a quick puncture and flatly (groan) refused to accept the air we pumped in. It transpired that the closest repair shop was half a kilometre from our starting point.
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| Cursed mountain |
At 800m, Gunung Raya is the tallest peak on Pulau Langkawi - higher still than the cable car on Gunung Matcincang. As we wheeled our bikes through the wide-open fields in the shadow of the mountain, we noticed the summit disappear suddenly under grey pall. Minutes later, a heavy shower was upon us and no cover was to be had. Cursed weather.
The rain passed and the sun dried us out, but we still arrived at Makam Mahsuri (Mahsuri's Tomb) a little soggy. The tomb itself has been surrounded by a museum and shops, hawking tangentially related merchandise and relating the infamous tale through various media.
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| Cursed musicians |
When not checking their hair, weekend plans, WhatsApp, and who is going out with whom, a few girls halfheartedly played traditional instruments, including the kulintang - a set of metal gongs. Among the shops we found a seller of the Asian form of that devil's food, baked Alaska.
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| Cursed fried ice cream |
The rain had by this point established a pattern of persistent drizzle. In charge of our incapacitated metal mounts, we were unable to take a taxi, so we steeled ourselves and made the long walk home. A few hundred metres from our destination we had the puncture fixed and cycled triumphantly the last leg.
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| Cursed mozzarella |
Having been out in the heat for far longer than intended, the mozzarella had completely disintegrated and comprised only a milky soup. We strained out the curds and attempted to assemble a recognisable cheese. Our efforts were in vein and I could feel the opprobrium of a thousand Italian mothers.
Curse or no curse, Langkawi is a beautiful island rich in nature and good people.
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