Pangi

The Dusuns have been using pangi (kepayang in Malay) as a food preservative for generations. I’ve known this nut since childhood because my mother also used it to make daat—a fish pickle. Therefore, I was surprised to learn, a few years ago, that the pangi is poisonous unless prepared in a certain way to rid it of toxins before adding it to the cooking pot.

In the old days, before the advent of refrigerators, meat and fish were preserved by salting them before putting them under the sun until they were bone-dry. They could also be preserved by smoking or by pickling, or by covering the sliced meat or fish pieces all over with the pounded flesh of the pangi nuts (Pangium edule) before drying them under the sun.

The nuts come from the pangi tree which grows wild in the kampungs. Until several years ago, despite living my childhood in the kampung, I thought the pangi nuts hung from branches just like rambutans or sour limes. Imagine my surprise when I saw my first pangi pod!

Not many people are aware that the nuts are contained in a pod because what they see for sale at the tamu are the individual nuts after their ‘housing’ has been removed and discarded.

The mature pangi tree measures about 50 to 60 feet in height. Pods hang individually or in clusters on the branches high above the ground. People tend to mistake the pods for the more familiar bambangan as both occur in the same shade of brown. However, closer inspection will show that the skin of the pangi pod is covered with tiny raised spots and it feels rough to the touch. The bambangan is smoother and unlike the pangi pod, it is rounded. The pangi looks as though two hands have pulled it by the stalk and lower end resulting in a shape more longish than round. The pulling has also left a ‘nipple’ on the lower end. This is absent in the bambangan.

Peeling the skin of the pangi pod, (which falls from the branch when it matures,) will reveal rows of nuts arranged neatly in tight rows. The nuts are covered with pale cream-coloured, sweet pith that is stuck to the nut and is difficult to remove. Cows are fond of the sweet, sticky pith. They eat it and they swallow the nuts whole and thus help in seed dispersal.

The pictures show a pangi pod with the top half of the peel cut away. Since it was difficult to remove the pith without disturbing the nuts, I left the pod under the sun for several days. The pith dried up slowly to reveal the nuts packed in tight rows. 

The Butterfly

It was exactly one year after the passing of my mother. The siblings were going to have prayers to observe the occasion followed by a buffet lunch for friends and family who had been invited (and who could squeeze a family event into their busy schedules).

All of us, brothers and sisters, forced by circumstances to be independent from childhood, have become quite good cooks. So when the caterer sent a message to tell she was ill we decided to prepare and cook the food ourselves. That was why most of us were at John’s house that Friday morning, the first day of May.

And that was where the black and white butterfly came. It flew from nowhere and landed—as if to rest for a moment—on my arm, midway between elbow and wrist. I gasped, taken by surprise, but recovered almost immediately.

“Look! Look!” I said and everyone turned to see what was happening. “Mama has come!”

There was no response to my statement. My siblings seemed to be holding their breaths. Shocked? Then one brother said, “Ask for a number! Ask for a number!”

“And how will the butterfly tell me a lucky four-digit-number?” I asked as the butterfly left my arm to fly away into the sunlight. I must have been the only one who was sorry nobody had bothered to take a picture.

I recall reading a story in which the story-teller told about seeing a butterfly flying into her house after the death of her sister and she was certain the butterfly was her sister’s spirit.  I know of someone who said a butterfly came and landed on her mother when they were having prayers for her father who had just passed away. So I was really convinced that the black and white butterfly which came the day we were having the prayers for my mother was my mother’s spirit.

Maybe she came to say ‘hello’ and that she was fine. Or maybe her spirit came to give us her blessings and to tell us to be good to one another.

Many cultures regard the butterfly as a peaceful spirit. The butterfly represents immortality in Chinese culture while in Japanese culture butterflies represent the human soul. In many cultures butterflies represent peace, harmony and the circle of life or rebirth.