WE stopped at a well-shaded roadside coffee shop for a late breakfast.

It was an Indian place serving the usual fare of roti canai, thosai, teh tarik, etc. The food wasn’t anything memorable, which might explain why the place was rather quiet.

What caught my attention was a shrine just outside. It was one of those small, bright-red brick structures with a roof, something you see everywhere, usually sheltering an oddly shaped natural formation or a mound of earth, like a termite nest.

Some have a figurine of a Malay-looking gentleman reposed inside. He has the reverential title of Datuk, which can mean grandfather or a title bestowed by royalty. The Cantonese have perverted the name to Latuk Kung, a combination of Datuk and Dei Jee Kung (Spirit of the Land). Thanks to superstition, strengthened by generations of stories and testimonials about its “powers”, the Latuk Kung has become an intrinsic part of Malaysia, both rural and urban.

Anyone who ventures into any land, especially that which is “wild”, is expected to ask for permission, either in silent prayer or by making some kind of offering. Some even make sure they do not bring anything that is considered “haram”, or unclean.

More significantly, any developer, no matter the size of the project, who does not pay his respects to this “guardian” is seen as rash or arrogant, and his project will be cursed. Which is why you find such shrines in the car parks of even the largest, grandest buildings in the country; no one, absolutely no one, had been or is willing to take the chance of offending the Latuk Kung.

It is not something openly talked about among the movers and shakers, but there is tacit acknowledgment and approval for whatever steps deemed necessary for the project to proceed as planned. It is a very unique aspect of Malaysia.

OK, back to the shrine at our coffee shop. What really caught my attention was a photo of a Hindu deity sitting where the Datuk was supposed to be. The usual offerings of incense, drinks, fruits and cigarettes were in place.

I asked the coffee-shop operator what was going on. He said someone had stolen the original figurine.

Later, when I related the situation to a friend, expressing disbelief, even incredulity, at such an act, he said it was quite commonplace. Seeing my jaw drop, he added: “Do you know how many people pray at these shrines for favours, especially for winning lottery numbers?”

It seems that in addition to the usual offerings, such hopeful – or desperate – punters make promises like giving the Datuk a better, more deserving “home” if he makes their wish come true. So when a punter strikes it rich, he has to fulfil his promise (as well as ensure he has exclusive access to this “very powerful” secret weapon).

Which explains the case of the “kidnapped” deity. Which also explains why some shrines are barricaded and locked up so securely. It’s to deter addicts of a different vein. – December 13, 2019.

* Mel Lee earned his way to an early retirement from his car magazine business, and moved to a small town with his wife in search of an eco-lifestyle. In their exploration of new places, backpacking on motorcycles or bicycles, they are looking for the extra in the ordinary.

* This is the opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of The Malaysian Insight. Article may be edited for brevity and clarity.