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.