Suluk Jebeng

Puncak ilmu yang sempurna
Seperti api berkobar
Hanya bara dan nyalanya
Hanya kilatan cahaya
Hanya asapnya kelihatan

Ketahuilah wujud sebelum api menyala
Dan sesudah api padam
Karena serba diliputi rahasia
Adakah kata-kata yang bisa menyebutkan?

x

Jangan tinggikan diri melampaui ukuran
Berlindunglah semata kepada-Nya
Ketahui, rumah sebenarnya jasad ialah ruh
Jangan bertanya

Jangan memuja nabi dan wali-wali
Jangan mengaku Tuhan
Jangan mengira tidak ada padahal ada

x

Sebaiknya diam
Jangan sampai digoncang
Oleh kebingungan
x

Pencapaian sempurna
Bagaikan orang yang sedang tidur
Dengan seorang perempuan, kala bercinta
Mereka karam dalam asyik, terlena
Hanyut dalam berahi

x
Anakku, terimalah
Dan pahami dengan baik
Ilmu ini memang sukar dicerna

Gurindam Dua Belas

Fasal pertama:
Barang siapa mengenal yang empat
Maka dia itulah orang ma'rifat

Barang siapa mengenal Allah
Suroh dan tegah-Nya tiada ia menyalah

Barang siapa mengenal diri
Maka telah mengenal akan Tuhan Yang Bahari

Barang siapa mengenal dunia
Tahulah dia barang yang terpedaya

Barang siapa mengenal akhirat
Tahulah dia dunia melarat

Fasal kedua:
Apabila terpelihara mata
Sadikit chita chita

Apabila terpelihara kuping
Khabar yang jahat tidaklah damping

Bersunggoh sunggoh engkau memeliharakan
Tangan daripada segala berat ringan

Apabila perut terlalu penoh
Keluarlah fo'il yang tiada senonoh.

Fasal ketiga:
Hati itu kerajaan di dalam tuboh
Jikalau dzalim segala anggota pun roboh

Apabila dengki telah bertanah
Datanglah daripadanya beberapa anak panah

Mengumpat dan memuji hendaklah fikir
Di situlah banyak orang yang tergelinchir

Pekerjaan marah jangan dibela
Nanti hilang 'akal di kepala

Jika sadikit pun berbuat bohong
Boleh diumpamakan mulutnua pekong.

Fasal keempat:
Barang siapa meninggalkan sembahyang
Sapert rumah tidak bertiang

Barang siapa meninggalkan puasa
Tidaklah dapat dua temasha

Barang siapa meninggalkan zakat
Tidaklah hartanya boleh berkat

Barang siapa meninggalkan haji
Tidaklah ia menyempurnakan janji

Fasal kelima:
Jika hendak mengenal orang yang berbangsa
Lihat kepada budi dan bahasa

Jika hendak mengenal orang yang berbahagia
Sangat memeliharakan yang sia sia

Jika hendak mengenal orang yang mulia
Lihatlah kepada kelakuan dia

Jika hendak mengenal orang yang ber'akal
Didalam dunia mengambil bekal

Juka hendak mengnal orang baik perangai
Lihat pada ketika berchampor dengan orang ramai

Fasal keenam:
Chahari oleh mu akan sahabat
Yang boleh dijadikan ubat

Chahari oleh mu akan guru
Yang boleh tahukan tiap seteru

Chahri oleh mu akan kawan
Pileh segala orang yang setiawan

Chari oleh mu akan abdi
Yang ada baik sadikit budi

Fasal ketujuh:
Apabila banyak berkata kata
Disitulah jalan masok dusta

Apabila banyak berlebeh lebehan suka
Itulah tanda hampir duka

Apabila kita kurang siasat
Itulah tanda pekerjaan akan sesat

Apabila anak tiada dilateh
Jika besar bapanya letah

Apabila banyak menchela orang
Itulah tanda dirinya kurang

Fasal kedelapan:
Barang siapa khianat akan diri nya
Apa lagi kapada lainnya

Kapada dirinya ia aniaya
Orang itu jangan engkau perchaya

Lidah yang suka membenarkan diri nya
Daripada yang lain dapat kesalahan nya

Kejahatan diri sembunyikan
Kebajikan diri diamkan

Ke'aiban diri handak lah sangka
Ke'aiban orang jangan dibuka

Fasal kesembilan:
Kejahatan saorang perempuan tua
Itulah iblis punya penggawa

Kebanyakan orang muda2
Disitulah shaitan tempat tergoda

Ada pun orang tua yang hemat
Shaitan ta' suka membuat sahabat

Jika orang muda kuat berguru
Dengan shaitan jadi berseteru

Fasal kesapuloh
Dengan bapa jangan durhaka
Supaya Allah tidak murka

Dengan ibu hendaklah selamat
Supaya badan dapat selamat

Dengan anak jangan lah alpa
Supaya malu jangan menimpa

Dengan kawan hendaklah adil
Supaya tangan jadi kepil

Fasal kesabelas:
Hendaklah berjasa
Kapada yang sabangsa

Hendaklah jadi kepala
Buang perangai yang chela

Hendaklah memegang amanat
Buanglah khianat

Hendaklah mulai
Jangan melalui

Hendak ramai
Murahkan perangai

Fasal kedua belas:
Raja bermuafakat dengan menteri

Saperti kebun perpagar duri

Betul hati kepada raja
Tanda jadi sebarang kerja

Hukum adil kepada ra'ayat
Tanda raja beroleh inayat

Kasehan orang yang ber'ilmu
Tanda rahmat atas diri mu

Hormat akan orang yang pandai
Tanda mengenal kasa dan chindai

Growing Pain

I sat crouched at the darkest corner of the room. Praying he won’t find me. Yet anticipating that any moment he would get me. I heard his footsteps on the wooden floor. Purposely stumped to let me know he was coming. Peeping between my arms, my eyes caught the end of the cane first before I saw him. The cane’s end was slit into three to enforce more pain when hit. I crouched further. Trying to shrink my body. Knees clasped. Tangled hair covered my face. I wished to be invisible. But my heartbeat was giving myself away. It was beating too loud.

Suddenly I felt a sharp pain slashed through my body. I crawled onto the mattress, between the pillows. I hardened my body and stiffened. I made no sound. The blows came again and again. Then everything went quiet for a minute. “Are you dead?” he hollered. The sound muffled through the pillows covering my ears. He grabbed my shoulder trying to roll my body over. I clung to the pillows. Hit my back, not my face, I begged silently. I could’t bear to be ridiculed by my playmates when they see me. Being hit meant that I had done something seriously bad.

Being in a small village, the community ‘cared’ about each other. They would question my parents for the ‘sin’ or ‘crime’ I had done. So that when they meet each other on their way to the market or the public bath they had something to gossip.

Although I could remember the beating clearly, I couldn't recollect the wrong I had committed. Did I forget to do the chores that were assigned to me? Had I stolen fruits from the villagers’ orchards? Killed their chickens, maybe? I might have said something bad in retaliation to my friend’s abuses. Or could it be because I had startled my father when I called him suddenly from under the bed when he was passing by the opened window. I had fun. But he was clearly shocked. But then I was only nine and my father was forty.

Well, I slept the whole night. Not waking even when I was asked to have dinner. I woke up the next morning feeling very weak. I was not sick but famished. I crept down to the kitchen. Mum had prepared some cakes and my favorite pulut lemak and sambal tumis ikan bilis (glutinous rice cooked in coconut cream and a dish of anchovies fried with hot chilies and onions). And the sweet tea was so tantalizing.

I crumpled onto the floor leaning against the pillar. Looking at her with sad eyes. Usually mum would ask me to go clean myself first. But instead she put in front of me a plate, lined with banana leaves some more, to enhance the aroma of the steaming glutinous rice. And a cup of hot tea. “Eat...” was all she said. After I had eaten I couldn’t get up. I sat there watching my friends walked by to school.

“Hey!” someone shouted, “why aren't you going to school today?” I just blinked. “I will tell teacher. You are going to die!” she said. Meaning I will be in big trouble. Mum looked at me. Felt my forehead. Took a pillow and laid me down to rest. She then continued with her chores attending to the rest of my siblings getting ready to go to school. Their chattering filling the kitchen questioning her what was wrong with me.

That night I couldn't’t sleep for I had slept too long during the day. So I played with the imaginery 'dream crystals'. Some tiny, blurry, shiny objects that appeared from a dark corner. It rolled towards where I was lying. I would will it to move away, and it will disappear towards the wall only to appear again. Another would come from the previous source and I would shoo them away as soon as they got closer. Sometimes there would be three of them, not more. The game would go on until I fell asleep.

Another favourite pastime to lull me to sleep was flying into orbit. Lying on my stomach with my eyes pressed on my arms. Then I would be able to see the orbit and just fly into it. It was a very relaxing experience. You should try it. Crazy? Maybe.

I had always thought that this imagination game was mine alone. Decades later when we were reminiscing about our childhood I mentioned about this to two of my sisters. They too had been playing this game. None of us had mentioned it before. Tell me about yours.

Haiku

"Don't worry, spiders,

I keep house

casually."

"I'm going out,

flies, so relax,

make love."

"A huge frog and I,

staring at each other,

neither of us moves."

"A cuckoo singsto me,

to the mountain,

to me, to the mountain."

888

"Last time, I think,

I'll brush the flies

from my father's face."

"Asked how old he was,

the boy in the new kimono

stretched out all five fingers."

000

"Having slept, the cat gets up,

yawns, goes out

to make love."

"Hey, sparrow!

out of the way,

Horse is coming."

"These sea slugs,

they just don't seem

Japanese."

p

"Even with insects--

some can sing,

some can't."

p

"Children imitating cormorants

are even more wonderful

than cormorants."

"Not very anxious

to bloom,

my plum tree."

"That wren--

looking here, looking there.

You lose something?"

p

"The distant mountains

are reflected

in the eye of the dragonfly."

"A world of dew,

and within every dew

drop a world of struggle."

"The dog walks by

with a hat...

fallen leaf."

"O flea!

Whatever you do, don't jump;

that way is the river."

p

"O owl!

Make some other face.

This is spring rain."

p

"That gorgeous kite

rising

from the beggar's shack."

p

"I'm going to roll over,

so please move,

cricket."

"A firefly

creeping up my sleeve.

OK, I'm a blade of grass."

"Singing high ---

A cricket on a log

floating down the river."

Masya-Allah

I love Ramadan as the most relaxing month of the year. If you have the means, go for umrah. I had the most fantastic experience while I was there. In Medinah al-Munawwarah we stayed at a hotel very close to the Masjid-e-Nabawi.

Before breaking fast rows and rows of long plastics spread were laid out in the masjid to put food on. To see the Muslims seated down, talking only on soft voices, eating their food quietly was very touching. No rowdy voices, no shouting and no sign of being impatience.

Reminiscences. What I remembered most of my stay was lying on the bed and looking at Medinah alive at night from the reflections on the glass louvered windows. By shifting the glass position I could see more places. This enabled me to find the places I would like to go, the abaya shop or the nut stall. I managed to locate the dhobi shop this way.

In Mekah Al-Mukaramah we stayed at a hotel about a few meters away from Masjid-il-Haram. A very convenient location. Walking a few yards from the hotel to the main road there was the fried chicken restaurant at the junction. On the right was the grocery shop. Fresh vegetables and fruits were displayed right in front of it. Among others there were baby cucumbers, baby carrots, big tomatoes, brinjals, and red and green capsicums sold at affordable prices.

I simply love to do my walking alone. Aloof and serene. Window shopping for gifts and at night, sampling their fresh and pure fruit juices.

Coming back from the Masjid-il-Haram around 9 am, after the Fajr prayer, the sun shone bright into my eyes. But the weather was cool and breezy.

I would then prepare to go for miqat to Tana’im by bus. Jaranah, another place for miqat is rather far away. On the first day I had followed a group of 20 by van. It was so packed like sardines. The men refused to be separated from their wives. So I had to bear it and held my breath until we reached the destination.

To buy the bus ticket was not a problem. I would stand at a distance to study the situation. Then I squeezed in from the side and held my hand high to the ticket seller. ‘Tana’in, asyreen!’ I shouted. The seller held my hand, put in two tickets and took away my four rials. ‘Syukran!’ I said and squeezed back out from the crowd. Then I studied where exactly the bus would stop and waited. The moment the door opened, I climbed in without any hassle.

On certain days I would complete two umrah rituals. Our stay was limited and I had a target to achieve and a plan to accomplish.

Don’t have to worry about food. Along the way people grabbed you to give fruits, drinks and food. I used to dislike yogurt. Ironically I got none. But my sis got packets of them. Even on the first day at Medinah I refused the Arabic bread because the lady had put it under her arm. During my stay there I did not see or given any more bread. Again, from the very first day we were given a cup full of soft golden dates that melt in the mouth and tasted like butter, and two cups of Arabic tea. This had become a daily routine. There was once when we were doing sa’i and the muezzin called for the evening prayers. It was also the time to beak fast. Not aware of the time, we had nothing prepared. My sister suggested we took some zam-zam water. No, I said, just wait. Someone tapped us from the back and handed us a cup of golden dates and two cups of tea. Another handed us a cup of zam-zam water. Masya-Allah.

Lailatul-Qadar. We had set the alarm clock for 1.00 am. We had intended to do the tahajud prayers and qiamulail until Fajr. We were only awaken when by the muezzin called for the Fajr prayer. My sis was very disappointed and sad that she cried in her prayers and continued to sob. When we reached the hotel lobby someone reminded us ‘not to miss to-nite, it’s Lailatul Qadar.’ The night of 27 Ramadan. We had miscalculated. I felt that God had answered her prayers that He reversed the time.

I couldn’t remember a day when we were late for any jama’ah prayers. However far we were from the masjid we could always make it on time. I remembered on Aidul Fitri. Masjid-il-haram was packed. The sun was right overhead, that was hard to see clearly. There was an overflow of people that half the main road was already filled with Muslims ready to do the Aidul prayer. I pulled my sister towards Babul-Umar a distance away. We entered and found empty spaces. From there we can see the congregation above and hear the Imam loud and clear.

I like to pray at places of my choice. I remember praying at an isolated space under the open sky within Masjid-ilharam. It was the most beautiful, peaceful and fantabulous experience in my life. Alhamdulillah…

Courtesy

I like to watch Korean shows. Apart from their beautiful scenery I love to listen to their melodious speech. I also noticed one of their customs which is very admirable. They know how to respect their guests. It is their tradition to offer their guests drinks. At home or even at the road side stalls they are given a glass of water the moment they are seated. We are taught to respect our guests too. We offer drins to travellers who could be thirsty even after a short trip. I will usually ask my guest for their preference of cold or hot drink. Most health conscious people will ask for a hot drink, not too sweet, or sky juice. Some, after refusing and profusely asking the host not to bother, will take anything.

I had often been offered thick milk tea or Milo which I had to sip out of respect. Sometimes before any damage is done I will ask for warm water.

Nowadays, since I had become a salesperson I visit more. I find that some people are less generous. After talking for more than an hour and your throat is becoming dry, no one seems to notice. Sometimes we had to travel quite a distance to their place, after they agree to see us. We explained the benefits of taking care of their health without charge or obligation. When it is over we packed our bags and head for the canteen. Are marketing people not your guests? What happened to courtesy?

A friend told me of his meeting with a prospect who had agreed to see him. For nearly an hour during his explanation the guest was busy watching a game on tv. Soon as he finished he excused himself, thanks the host and left. He had done his duty, to explain. If you are against sales people, at least give him due respect as your guest. He is not asking you for your hard earned money.

Our duty is just to share our knowledge and invite others to benefit from the biz. Well, if you are not worth it, you just can’t see the goodness.

In Sickness

1989 . When mum passed away I had a break-down. Her death was not the cause. I can’t explain how I felt then. But it was the terrible fear of death. It was very real and acute fear. My breathing would become heavy, my heart felt contrite, I became weak. All I could do was cry. The attack would come without warning, at anytime. It intensified when I heard the azan. I had to see the doctor every week and was on tranquilizers. It lasted for seven months. I even marked the calendar every 40 days to wait for my death. Imagine, when I was traveling in a car, a lorry came from the opposite direction, I would tell myself ‘this is it!’. I would close my eyes awaiting the bang. When nothing happened the fear lingered on for 2-3 excruciating minutes.

One Fine Day I met someone. She noticed my condition and invited me to her place. Two weeks later she came to see me and insisted that I follow her. I did. I met her friends and Guru who asked me to do zikrullah . To always think of Allah. After a few months I was slowly back to normal. I was with the group learning, bersolat, berzikir, bersuluk for two years. Since my father in law came to stay I seldom can free myself to go. As a ‘punishment’ I was banned from attending any activities until I was ready to commit myself. He passed away after three months. And I stopped seeing my friends. While it lasts I had some strange yet beautiful experiences. (To share ab this later.)

Suluk

Kebajikan utama (seorang Muslim)

Ialah mengetahui hakikat salat

Hakikat memuja dan memuji

Salat yang sebenarnya

Tidak hanya pada waktu isya dan maghrib

Tetapi juga ketika tafakur

Dan salat tahajud dalam keheningan

Buahnya ialah menyerahkan diri senantiasa

Dan termasuk akhlaq mulia

nn

Apakah salat yang sebenar-benar salat?

Renungkan ini: Jangan lakukan salat

Andai tiada tahu siapa dipuja

Bilamana kaulakukan juga

Kau seperti memanah burung

Tanpa melepas anak panah dari busurnya

Jika kaulakukan sia-sia

Karena yang dipuja wujud khayalmu semata

Jangan memuja

Jika tidak menyaksikan Yang Dipuja

Juga sia-sia orang memuja

Tanpa kehadiran Yang Dipuja

Walau Tuhan tidak di depan kita

Pandanglah adamu

Sebagai isyarat ada-Nya

Inilah makna diam dalam tafakur

Asal mula segala kejadian menjadi nyata

Orang berilmu

Beribadah tanpa kenal waktu

Seluruh gerak hidupnya

Ialah beribadah

Diamnya, bicaranya

Dan tindak tanduknya

Malahan getaran bulu roma tubuhnya

Seluruh anggota badannya

Digerakkan untuk beribadah

Inilah kemauan murni.

Tam

The best friend I ever had. When she was young she had seven younger siblings. When mum was about to have a baby or in confinement, she would take over the family biz. She did the cooking, washing and cleaning too. Abang was in UK. Second sis was married. I was not very keen in the household chores other than doing what had already been allotted to me.

Tam passed her time looking for firewood with her friends. When in seasons she looked for cendawan busut (mushrooms), berangan (chestnuts), pucuk paku, buah perah, petai, or anything that can be eaten or sold. The trade she learnt from Nyai.

She was also multi talented. She could sing, sew, and cook. She was a ceer woman who managed a big cooperative
biz. Everyone loved her.

We used travel a great deal in our van during our free time. We frequented the theaters and films. Attended courses whenever possible. With her around life was never dull. We talked, laughed and cried together. Our conversations were very detailed. And our anger could be harsh but never bitter.

She had a special room in my house. Thus more than often I would come home surprised to find the house smelling clean, the cloths washed and folded, and hot food on the table. She was nowhere to be seen.

Dreams

Few days after mum’s death Abah told us that he had the most three years to live. If he passed that period he would live at least another 20 years. Barely three years later Abah passed away just as the azan called for the evening twilight prayers.

The irony was that my sis Tam had told me of her dream a week earlier. She had described the exact picture of what we were witnessing on the day my father’s body arrived from Sarawak. Even the words my granduncle told her was the same, ‘It is your father.” The crowd, the sad faces were just a flashback being replayed.

1997, I was at work. We were busy trying to catch the dateline. After the evening prayer I laid down on the couch while waiting for my friends to get ready for dinner. I had a dream. I was on a sandy beach by the sea. Two of my teeth came off. They were still good but bloody. I felt a tremendous lost. I looked at them but just couln’t put it back. I felt the emptiness at the places where they had been.

I had completely forgotten ab the dream. While we were seated for dinner I happen to look at the masjid across the road. Memory of the dream came back. I felt a sudden sadness. I told my friends and said, two of my close relatives are going to die. They said it was just passing thought and not to be taken seriously.

I came back from the office at 5 am that day. Before I even opened the gate my sis Tam called, asking me to come home, my auncle was dying. That evening he died. Twelve days later I got another call from my sister-in-law saying that my sis Tam had stopped breathing. I just could not believe it. I took my own sweet time to pray. When I came out my collegue told me to go home. He had received another call. My sis was really gone. I just laughed. How could she. She was as healthy as I was. I managed to drive home. My hubby was crying near hysterical. I was cool. It must be a sick joke. When I reached the hospital… they took me to a body in shroud, on the bed. I had the feeling of lost I just can’t describe.

School and Books

I fell in love with books at a very tender age. I know I could read as soon as I started schooling. Since then what the teachers taught me was nothing new. I'd read most of Abang's books, and I yearned to attend English school. I can't read some of Abang's books. It was in English. And they had so many beautiful illustrations. One of them was Going to the Circus. I'd flipped the book over and over again, showed it to my friends, and treasured it.

One fine day a teacher asked us if we want to study in the English school. My hand was the first to shoot up. It was like a dream about to become a reality. I went back and asked my parents. They refused. None of us had dared asked such a thing before. Abang was accepted to study in MCKK at Form 1. I was still in Std 3. When school reopened for registration I cried my eyes out for hours. I refused to be sent to the old school. At last my parents consented. My sister borrowed the Penghulu daughter's school uniform to pattern out mine.

I never regretted having to walk two km in the hot morning sun and cross the railway tracks everyday to my new school. I became the student librarian. I had the priviledge to borrow three books a week. I started reading the Reader's Digest with the help of a dictionary.
The craze then were comics. I could never get enough of School Friends, School Girls, Beano & Dandy, and Wars comics.

Back then each cost 50 sen. I had to save save ten days to get that much. So I started a business. If the students do not complete their homework I let them copy mine and they paid 10-20 sen. 20 sen for a page of the workbook, 20 sen for test answers, 20 sen for a drawing or craft. They even paid 5 sen for Today's News. With perfect grammar, a sentence would get them an A. Many students seek my services. (See the reasons below*.) For my friends foc. But they let me borrow their comics.

I can't wait to go home once I had a supply of books and comics. I'd hide under the bed with a tumbler of sweet tea, sipped with a long hollow plastic string. I'd only come out to do my chores, and back again to my world of fantasy.

I did have other interests other than books. We would spend hours swimming, submerging in the river, and looking for shrimps. At other times we (one of my best buddies and I) would be sitting on tree branches munching bitter star fruits or sour mangoes dipped with salt. I had a fistful in my pocket which I grabbed from my uncle's shop earlier.

*Monsters and tortures. Those days the punishments for not doing your homework were very harsh. The women teachers get their satisfaction by pinching your stomach pushing and twisting the flesh between their fingers. The fear in your eyes, the shame, the tears of bearing the pain will only add to their sadistfaction (sadistic satisfaction). Their other weapons were the multiple rulers to knock your knuckles red and sore. Public caning was for having long dirty fingernails, long hair, dirty shoes, or not wearing socks. If you have a See me! in your book the rewards were Japanese slaps. You slap me, I slap you, as hard as possible until the sadist screamed, Go back to your seeeaat! Without explaining what you had done wrong. Your ears ringing, your face would sting for the rest of the day. For the boys, Stand up on the cupboard! Imagine standing on one, with your head bent and your body crooked even for ten minutes. We pray that these monsters rot in hell! You know who you are!!! You are not forgiven. By the way, your torture an defamation drove that boy to a successful future.

My Parents

Abah was Pak Tua's best friend. So he called Mak, Adik. When Mak was 13, Abah 19, their parents decided they sd tie the nuptial knot. One day Abah came back from work on his bicycle. His house was busy with relatives preparing for a feast. 'What's going on?' Abah asked. 'Someone's getting married...' was the reply.

Well, it was common those days a relative would hold the reception at a bigger house. Abah was cool until they asked him to get ready for the akad nikah. Still thinking that he might be the best man, Abah did.

But surprise! He was 2b the groom. B4 anyone could react Abah had jumped off the house, pulling his bicycle to save dear life. But Pak Tua was prepared for this. His friends were ever ready. When they told him who his bride would be Abah was relieved.

At 14 Mak gave birth to Abang. Two years later the the Japanese invaded Malaya. It began just after midnight on 8 December 1941. Kakak, the second child was still in the cradle. Panic broke loose.

Abah later attended Japanese school. One of the songs Abah taught me later was, 'Row nek iro nek asa good mornin.' Don't ask me what it meant. I even wondered if the pronunciation is correct.

Mak used to tell me how the Japanese soldiers would just take what they want. One day they came by and were about to break the sugarcanes, one of them was stretching and jumping trying to pluck a ripening papaya. Mak stood at the window and shouted, 'Those belongs to my children. If you touch them I'll report to your officers.' They left and were never seen around again. My salute to mum.

What I remembered about Abah in my earlier years was pillion riding on his bicycle. Four of us (Abah, my two brothers and I) would ride to the barbers for a hair cut. Yes, I'm a girl, but Abah did not treat us differently. Abah seldom take us to eat out. He would bring back fruits, sometimes hot roti canai and dhal curry to share with the rest of the family. My respect to Abah. My love to them.

Nyai

The legend. She came to Malaya in 1925. Nyai left her aristocratic life as the wife of a Lurah. There were changes in her life that she couldn't compromise. Mum was still breastfed. My Pak Tua who later became a village head, was... well if he was older than my father, he must be seven or eight. Since Nyai was very beautiful, even nicknamed Cik Jelita, many admirers came along too. Some even arrived later. This was personally told to me by one of them. I was ten then. They arrived at Port Klang and later settled in a place called Bukit Guntung. Nyai planted rice. Many volunteered to work for her. She was very independent.

I had never met someone like Nyai, in my entire life. She planted fruit trees, rice and vegetables for consumption and sale. Caught fish, trapped games, made her own sugar, and reared chickens. Her past time was never idle. She made baskets of different shapes and sizes from bamboo. Produced pandan mats. Made ropes from the banana plant. Planted cotton for pillows and mattresses.

She loved to make our favourite food: tapai ubi, tapai pulut, and the best of all was jeruk biji getah (fermented rubber seeds). When in season she would wrestle the jungle, climbed hills and crossed rivers to look for biji bakung, buah perah, chestnuts, and many more.

The children loved to play in front of her house because they woud never run be hungry. She would call to them to fill their stomachs. During the feast they would ask her to tell them stories. We had heard of Bawang Putih Bawang Merah, Batu Belah Batu Bertangkup, Musang Berjanggut, and many others even before they were made into films. And the children wouldn't think twice to ask her for coins to buy an ice-cream.

Unique. Nyai walks the village carrying a bag. Along her path she would pick-up all the rubbish, stones, sticks, and broken glasses to be put away. B4 we had the water supply, we used to bath in the river or perigi (shallow well). She often brought the hoe to clear away the drain and the grass growing around it. At the river she would mound the rocks where the banks became eroded. Cleared the rubbish and dead leaves away. No one else did what she did.

My Mum

Emak. My mum was a real lady with a class of her own, regal. She was loving and lovable. The daughter of an Arab Sheikh, a Lurah (village head) of Kembang Seri, Bangkahulu, Indonesia. Her mum was called Pik Ita short for Cik Jelita (the Beautiful Lady). (Another classy lady. I'll write about her later, insya-Allah. She was simply fantastic.) Mum was a biz woman. She baked cakes and cookies, sew pants, and made-to-order special thick-n-dimpled cotton mattresses.

The villagers seek her advice and services for weddings. Her past experiences enabled her to guess correctly, for instance, the number of guest coming. No one dared to contradict the petite, soft spoken lady because she had proven her capabilities and she walked her talk. She asked no payment for the job. The job which just fitted into her shoes after her mum, Nyai. Never try to bluff her either, if you wanted the reception to run smoothly. If she asked the host to prepare 60 kg of beef, it better be. For she could tell just by looking. If you couldn't afford it, say so. She could plan another affordable menu. Or you would not have the courage to request her next service. Unless you're a thick skin.

She did not attend any formal schooling. Yet she could spell, especially in Jawi, and write numbers! She loved the tv show Oshin. The only show she watched. Don't worry if you miss an episode. Her retelling is even better than seeing the show on tv. When we were kids our rewards for a hard days work were her story telling. We would urge her to tell the stories over and over again. Her voice-over was just fantabulous. When tiredness overcame her she would tell us the story about The Journey of the Turtle Crossing the Deep Blue Sea. We would wait in anticipation, but only her slow breathing could be heard. Sssshh...

Gifted. Mum had a rare gift. None of us, except my two older siblings knew ab it. It happened that Tam lost her ruby ring. The fun we had frolicking in the river that afternoon ended with fear of scolding. We had searched everywhere, but in vain. The next morning mum came with us to the river. She looked around at the cobbled stones, the sand and the clear flowing river. Then she squatted down. Dipped her hand in the water just by the water edge and put away some stones. Underneath the ruby sparkled. We had a hard time convincing ourselves that that was not a magic show, but just pure magic.

The other children told their parents. That was the start. Neighbours and relatives began relating other stories of mum's gift. Grandma knew that she had the ability of finding lost items since the age of five.

One of the most memorable was ab the new bride's lost wedding ring. Everyone looked for it high and low, under the house, floor crevices, the bed, cabinets, everywhere. At last they called mum. Very reluctant the young girl was still drowsy from sleep. She fetched the broom swiped it slowly on the floor. Out rolled the ring as though from her hand.

I was blessed to have tended to her until she departed. Dear God, bless her.

My Fav Games

Our favourite game when we were kids was Police Sentry. It involved two teams. The players are unlimited, boys and girls. The more the merrier. One team will be the Police Sentry. The other, the criminals. Now, the Sentries must catch all the criminals and put them in jail. Once someone is caught the criminals must save them. While some sentries start chasing, a few must stand guard. Once all the criminals has been caught, their roles are reversed.

The criminal can struggle to be free. It's a game of survival for the fittest. This game can last for many hours.

Another interesting game is Kanda Kundi. Two teams involved. The equipment: a-foot long stick (baton) and a three-inch stick (bullet) are used. A three-inch hole is dug on the ground. The bullet is put across it. Use the baton as a lever push the bullet as far as possible. The other team must try to catch the bullet to 'kill' the player. Unable to do so, the bullet is used to hit the baton that is placed on the hole from where it had fallen. Failing that you go to the second step, ie. to hit the bullet as far as possible. Again if failed to be caught it must be thrown back. The player must try to hit the bullet away.

Scores are counted using the baton to measure the distance from the bullet to the hole. The baton length scores 5, the bullet measure, one. If the player is able to hit the bullet, he can choose to have it re-thrown, and the measurement scores double. It could go on to triple, quadruple. But it the bullet's distance from the hole is less than the baton's length the player looses his turn. The players of each team combined their scores to determine the winner. A team can lose all their scores if they forget the amount. This game teaches skill, focus, and fast counting ability.

My Siblings

At first there were eleven of us. Then there were eight. Now only six left.

I was 6, my brother Din, 4, and Omar, 3. No days passed without us chasing, pulling and wrestling each other. Their punches were real and hard. But I don't ever remember crying. We were tough. Our laughter, our screams are still fresh in my memory.

As youngsters we played as hard as we work. Even at that tender age we were given tasks. Responsibilities we carried out religiously without being reminded. Each morning Mak's gentle voice was the alarm clock that woke us up. Within minutes all three (elder sis - Tam, younger bro - Din, and I) were ready and set reporting for duty. We were working in sales and marketing. Fast with counting and good at knowing people's character.

B4 it got too hot we went for a dip in the river. Only to be back on time for lunch, unless you fancy the cane for your meal. By evening everyone must complete their routine. Filling the drums with water taken from the well half a mile away. Cutting the firewood and arranging them neatly under the house. Feeding the goats and chickens. Sweeping and cleaning. Done the homework and then off to mengaji (religious lesson).

Religous Lessons. There was something I couldn't understand then. No matter how early I came, I would always be the last taught the Quran and the last to go. Only later on did the reasons dawned on me.

To me time was not really an issue. But then I was just a little girl, 7-8 years old. The sense of climbing down the high steps and of walking back alone in the dark still haunts me in my dreams.

One day my bro Omar was crashed by a drunkard. He was barely eight. I was then schooling in a SRJK. Only God knew how it hurts. My sis Tam passed away 10 years ago. She was my bestest friend. I still miss them. Then on Dec 2006 my eldest sis crashed under a trailer that was blocking her way, killing her and her grand child on the spot. A week after I clean, bathed and shrouded her body. Then I left the kampung for good.

The Survivor

27 March
Everyone were busy. Cooking, gossipping, fooling, shouting, laughing, preparing for the kenduri (feast). Abah had shot a kijang. The bubu (fish trap) from the river was 3/4 full with fish. The kampung folks had brought rice, sagu, tapioca, sweet potatoes, yam, shoots, coconuts, for the occasion.

Nyai had me cuddled to her chest. Nenek II was making funny faces to make me laugh. Suddenly both both of them and those nearby screamed with shock and fear. A coconut had fallen right on my head and broke into two. I was the silent one. When the scream subsided it was my turn to burst out my lungs. I survived.

The Encounter

27 Feb 11.20 pm

Scene: The kampung house. In the flickering light of the single oil lamp. Abang reading Sejarah Melayu. Mak struggling for life. Midwife perspiring. Abah in the jungle hunting. Siblings sleeping.

Then the clock striked once. I screeeaaamed!!! and gulped for air. Then suddenly there were knocks on the door. Abang smiled. Mak and the housewife sighed with relief. That was my first encounter with life.