Goodbye Boys

Anyone of you who has ever been a scout - no matter how nominally - would appreciate Bernard Chauly's Goodbye Boys. Even the poster of the movie itself had me stopping for a second look since it featured a bunch of fresh-faced boys clad in the immediately recognizable scouts uniform - not because I'm a drooling child / scout perv ( though some of the thankfully legal actors looked particularly yummy ) but because it brought back funny little memories.

Not gonna reveal the whole plot over here but it tells the simple, uncomplicated story of a gang of pimply, testosteroney boy scouts out to fulfil a King Scout requirement, all with different contrasting personalities and races - possibly as written in the Federal Constitution :P - making a grueling 5 day journey through the dusty tin-mine deserts of Kinta Valley. Just like one of the protagonists says, when you're a kid that age, everything seems larger than life after all.

Unsurprisingly - especially for anyone who has ever been on a trek such as this - all sorts of hilarious misadventures ensue. Made my own pilgrimage ten years back ( OMG has it actually been that long! ) and even now, I can almost recall the bitter squabbles as we lost the way despite the reputable map, the incessant complaints from the stragglers about the blistering heat and the sheer boredom. Even my tie-scarf was drooping at the end of the day.


It's getting hot in here - and not in a good way...
By now I know half of you must have fainted from sheer disbelief over the fact that I was actually a dyed-in-the-wool, bonafide scout - but it's undeniably true. Right now in luxurious air-conditioned comfort, I swear I wouldn't dream of repeating that particular episode of my life ever again - especially since during that period of time, not only was I permanently sunbaked to a dark brown, I was also covered in freaking leeches and mud half the time. Damn medicinal purposes and all, but I'd still gladly toast those slimy suckers. Oddly enough, endless marching and camping out in the dirt definitely didn't count as my favourite activities. Even now the thought of barely sanitary makeshift latrines / dugouts and the ever-miserable kitchen duty ( imagine growing teenage boys ravaging their dinner plates ) makes me cringe. And through it all, I never could understand exactly why the boys were all so desperately gung-ho about getting campfire dances with the Convent guides. :)

But there were some memorable times... singing mindless repetitive lyrics ( Ging Gang Gooli anyone? ), eating burnt charcoal / food that we cooked ourselves over a primitive fire, late nights talking with friends over UNO and cards( yeah, my ISO was part of the crowd ), abseiling down a ravine seemingly without a care ( though I held on dearly for life ), leisurely kayaking a canoe out into the Straits ( without fear of stinging jellyfish, capsizing or marauding pirates! )- and having my own insane misadventure with a floating tent.

And no, unfortunately there wasn't any nubile bicurious young scout beside me in that dark tent. Honestly? Back then little innocent me wouldn't even have known what to do with the bicurious dude! Think of being barely 16, brought into the woods at midnight, then left panicked and alone with some canned food, matches and tent equipment. Anyone who's aching to repeat such a jungle adventure, just take my advice and remember the position of the river before you pitch that tent.

And just remember when it rains, the river swells.

Oh BTW out of eight aspiring scouts in the movie, you know there has to be that one cute guy who leans our way, right? :) Small subtle hints ( the better to escape the overzealous censors ) but if you look closely, it's quite obvious.