Silent Streets, Full Hearts: Remembering Raya in the Year of MCO
There is a distinct cadence to Hari Raya Aidilfitri in Malaysia that every local knows by heart. It usually begins with the pre-dawn exodus—a mass migration of cars crawling along the North-South Expressway, packed with luggage, traditional outfits, and containers of kuih raya. It is defined by the aroma of rendang bubbling in massive pots on Kampung stoves, the chaotic warmth of rumah terbuka (open houses), and generations of family members crowding together for a single, chaotic group photo.
In 2020, that familiar rhythm ground to a sudden halt.
As the Covid-19 pandemic swept across the globe, Malaysia introduced the Movement Control Order (MCO). When May 2020 arrived, the country found itself celebrating a Hari Raya like no other—one defined by physical distance, quiet streets, and the tender simplicity of immediate family.
The Year Balik Kampung Stood Still
For the first time in modern memory, the highways were quiet. Interstate travel bans meant millions of Malaysians stayed behind in city apartments, suburban houses, or quiet rural homes. There were no tearful reunions at airport arrival gates, no packed buses bound for east-coast towns, and no catching up with distant cousins over midnight tea.
Under the Conditional Movement Control Order (CMCO) guidelines at the time, celebrations were limited strictly to immediate household members and a small cap of immediate family members on the first day alone. The broad, welcoming doors of the Malaysian rumah terbuka remained closed.
Finding Meaning in the Quiet
While the atmosphere was undeniably muted without the usual frenzy, 2020 brought a deep, unexpected intimacy to the festive season.
Traditional Raya Raya 2020 (MCO)
┌───────────────────────┐ ┌───────────────────────┐
│ • Mass Highway Travel │ │ • Stay-At-Home Orders │
│ • Open Houses & Crowds│ ──►│ • Household Gatherings│
│ • Handshakes & Embraces│ │ • Distance & Virtuals │
└───────────────────────┘ └───────────────────────┘
Without the pressure to host dozens of guests or travel hundreds of kilometers, families created small, meaningful rituals at home:
The Living Room Takbir: Instead of filling local mosques, families gathered in their living rooms, where fathers and elder brothers led the morning takbir Raya—a intimate moment that created quiet reverent memories.
Digital Salaman: Shaking hands and asking for forgiveness (maaf zahir dan batin) moved to phone screens. Video calls replaced physical visits, bringing grandparents, siblings, and overseas relatives together on virtual grids.
Scaled-Down Feasts: Big catering trays gave way to smaller home-cooked meals. Families cooked lemang and ketupat in small batches, sharing plates over simple dining tables rather than grand buffet spreads.
Baju Raya for the Photo-Op: Even without visitors, families still put on their finest Baju Melayu and Baju Kurung, stepping into front yards or living rooms for family portraits that captured a unique moment in history.
A Lasting Lesson in Connection
Raya 2020 stripped away the grand scale of the festive season and left behind its true core: gratitude, resilience, and appreciation for the people who share our roof.
While it was born out of necessity and sacrifice, that quiet year served as a poignant reminder that syawal isn't built on large crowds or lavish open houses. It lives in the quiet moments of connection, no matter how small the gathering may be.

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