Latah: An Individual Reflex Against the Grip of Conformity

BEING A MOMMY’S GIRL, if I could fuse with my mom at a cellular level, I would. That is why, at five, I was already in the open kitchen, doing what I thought was the most important job there was: slicing open beronok (sea cucumber).

In Langkawi, before any kenduri or open house, women—most of them elderly—would gather together for rewang. As I sat among women in their golden age, in between their fast-moving, wrinkly hands and constant chattering, you could always hear their raucous laughter. And preceding this is usually a list of colourful vocabulary describing men’s, women’s and even animals’ genitals.