Brother M

1989
Bro M was 16 going 17, tall, thin and lanky with short straight hair, though sometimes I could see some curls. He just started a liking in grooming himself, taking more time in front of the mirror and 'preening' more often than before. Of late, he had been jovial and smiling a lot. I can still remember his smile on that sunny day. He was walking home from school and I was on the way to the shop nearby. When he saw me he flashed that smile, but said nothing. I found it a bit weird, putting me in a dejavu, like I'd seen that smile before, except it was not from him. M just entered first school term for that year. He was in form 5, his very important year. I was waiting for my SPM results and he was bracing for his SPM. I always considered M as smart and above average. I think, if things went by the plans, he could have been even smarter than Bro MZ.

Early 1980s-1989
In primary school when I was in standard 6 and he standard 5, he was already a co-student head, together with another standard 6 pupil. Most of the time, he led the school assembly. I still remember looking at him standing straight in front of the pupils... Small and thin. I don't remember feeling proud or anything, because (based on ujian penilaian darjah lima) he was the smartest and it was natural for him to be given the 'job'.
For secondary education, M went to one of the best boarding schools in Terengganu. A science school. He made our parents proud. However, soon after that we didn't see each other much as I was studying in a different boarding school in town. Not the best one, of course! I was just an average student. When I went home on weekends, most of time, he didn't, or vice versa. But Mother and Father sometimes visited him at his hostel. He was doing well, they said... at the beginning at least. After that, things started to change. He hardly came home. There was one time when we didn't hear anything from him for about two months. When we asked the school, they said they had no idea because he also didn't attend classes. I don't know what was the actual problem. But it seemed he'd got himself around the wrong types of friends. He probably had a 'freedom shock' as well as prior to that he was never away from us.
One time, he and his group, we understood, had got into a fight with another group, which prompted M to go MIA. Nothing was confirmed though. M didn't talk much about it. He however did come back to school, just in time for SRP. When we visited him before the exam, he told us he was just staying nearby the school, at a surau. He looked messy and very thin, I almost cried. His pants had a hole in the thigh. Mother cried of course, looking at the state he was in.
After SRP, he came home. I could see he didn't hope much. But when the results were announced, he still look dissapointed. Although he passed with not too bad results, compared to other kids in our kampung, he didn't qualify to continue studying at the same school. Probably, it finally dawned on him that he was not to see his friends anymore. He looked sad, very sad indeed. And I think I saw regrets too.

M was transfered to a school not too far from our kampung, not a bad school. But there was transportation problem. There was no school bus to the school and he had to take the normal bus. He was late almost everyday. And probably for that reason, and others that we don't know, even now, he was transferred to another school which was probably nearer to our place. Even Father and Mother didn't know about that until after a few months.

So that December 1989, he entered his first school term in Form 5. December was in monsoon season. It was raining everyday. I was 'vacationing' at home after SPM. M and I were closed, being only one year apart. We talked a lot and spent time together a lot. He was sure I would get first grade. And he asked for my old school books to study because he also wanted to score first grade, so he said. One fine day, he piled the books from the rack onto the floor in my room, saying he would take them later. I was glad he at least intended to do well in SPM.

December 1989
First week at a new school. M looked okay. Because there was no science stream class at the school, he now had to start studying literature. Everybody was in art stream class. He had no complain, he was just doing fine, I guess. He also started showing some interest in girls, keeping some photos of sexy pretty girls he'd goten from magazines and of some of my juniors from my picture collection. It was a normal transition. I was happy that he looked contented, although sometimes I noticed hints of sadness, there in his eyes and expression. He seemed to sometimes freeze with time, losing in his own thoughts. Because of that, many memorable and unforgettable things had happened.

One not-raining day, after he got home in his first/second week of school, he put on a towel and went to one of our aunts' house nearby and brought back few 'ice cream Malaysia'. While offering one to me, he started eating his. I couldn't remember the colour of his ice cream. Was it red or green, or orange? But after a while, he looked at me, a few coins in his hand, and suddenly said, 'oh, lupa nak bayar'. He gave me a broad grin and started running back to Aunt's house.

Another day during the second week after school, he was at Grandma's house with me, chatting, mostly about girls and becoming rich. He said if he was rich, he would build a big house surrounded with water, like one house he saw in the nearby kampung, and of course there would be a pretty wife and us living with him in the house.
He also cracked a few of jokes, one that still remains vividly in my head was about death. It sounded improper, but it was, well, funny. It went like this ... Somebody just died and been buried. So the Malaikat came and began the question and answer session. Malaikat asked, "Ma rabbuka (who's your God)". The dead person then answered, "Sudah gaharu cendana pula, sudah tau bertanya pula"....!!! Before he went back to Mother's house next door that night, he gave me this 'advice', "tak usah buka lampu lah masa tidor ... nanti bila dah mati, dalam kubur tak ada lampu pun". Well, that was because, I slept with the light on. I was afraid of darkness and to this day, still are, although only sometimes.

Around this time also (at least in December) he managed to convince me to have the shortest hair cut I'd ever had as at that time. And of course, he did the cutting himself, much to the disproval of Grandpa who said girls shouldn't have hair cuts that looked like boys.
It was during one of the days of that week that he gave me that weird smile which put me in a dejavu like I had seen the smile before, perhaps in one of my dreams. And gathered the books from the rack and piled them on the floor in my room.

One night during that week I woke up to a 'screaming' sound, only to find a big green grasshopper screaming so loud on my pillow, near my ears. I was stunned and did what I thought best at the moment, covering the grasshopper with a water glass. In the morning when I checked upon it, it was already dead, out of oxygen probably.

Since the past one to two weeks, M had been good to Z, our youngest brother, who prior to that was 'his public enemy no.1". They even played soccer in the evening in front of our house together with Az, M's favorite cousin. The gate was the goal post.

On Tuesday that week, we didn't chance to talk much. M came back from school and spent time sleeping. That night when I went to Mother's house, he was already asleep although it was only 9pm. In the morning, I didn't really meet him either as I was half-asleep, only hearing his voice. He came to take his school shirt which he'd hanged at Grandma's anjung, and then proceeded to Aunt's house nearby to ask her to iron the shirt. We were one big extended family, you see ... He then proceeded his journey to school.

July 2 2008
It's M's birthday, he's 35. It has been long time ....

We plan, but Allah decides. It had been written in Luh Mahfuz that M was to be 'lent' to us for 16 years, to be our sibling, son, friend, nephew and all he was destined to. He helped colour our life, give us varieties, stories and memories. He was my best friend during childhood. Teman bermain, teman menangis, teman bergaduh, teman makan, teman berbual, teman untuk buat nakal dan teman pelbagai. When we were small, in the evening we would stand near the window in Grandma kitchen, on a 'tin biskut merry', almost everyday, waiting for Father to come home from work. We clapped when we saw him with his bicycle approaching the gate. Life was difficult but we didn't feel it, because we were just happy kids.

I've almost forgotten how close we were when we were little. Sometimes, during my lonely time when I have time to go through old stuff, I look at M's picture and feel weird that I actually had another brother, who once was very close to me, but he is not here. I feel weird because he's not here. It's like a dream that he's not here. That he passed away almost 18 years ago. That on that Wednesday, he involved in an accident. That he remained unconcious in the ICU ward until he died the following day, Thursday 21 1989. During his 'sleep', he only mentioned few times 'Mother, Mother, Mother ... I want to go home'.

But I know it was fated that way, that he dropped out his first school, to go to the second school, and then to the third school, to meet a friend there and ride a motorbike with him, only to crash in an accident near the school. How else could he have ended up at the place of the accident if his life had not been planned carefully that way. Allah Maha Mengetahui.

Yes ... it has been a long time ... 18 years. Mother still terkilan that she couldn't provide enough for him. Father hardly talks about him. I know if he does he is just like Mother. I had caught him in moments of sadness. But I pretended I didn't see. Life was difficult when we were small, like I said, and we hardly had the luxuries others might have. But we were happy. M was happy. Z and MZ were happy. We didn't miss what we'd never had.

We only miss M ...

Al-fatihah. Semoga rohmu dicucuri rahmat. Semoga Allah masih sudi mendengar doa ku yang sudah sekian lama tersasar.

Of patience and compassion

Sya is 2 years and 8 months and A is 4 years and 6 months old. How time flies... and sometimes I feel like I can't really keep the pace. But they're beautiful kids, a gift that brings cheer and happiness... despite the 'disasters' they sometimes create. Well, they could be very mischievous at times. But then whose kids don't get naughty sometimes or all the time?

My only complain is myself. I'm not a perfect mother. I shout, use bad words sometimes, pinch or cane them, and threaten them. I feel I don't have good disciplines either. Due to my job nature, I can't really wake up early in the morning or be with them all the time at night. Sometimes, it makes me feel so lousy. Should I change this job? But then the good side to it is I can be with my kids during the day although I may not be in 'sober' foam in the morning. I can also fetch A from school myself. And feed them lunch, read with them, watch cartoons with them. But in the process, I more often than not tend to scold and 'intimidate' them a lot. Now I'm thinking, although I have more time with them, does it mean that I spend quality time with them.

I know experts would say be patient, have compassion, talk nicely .... but those are things you find in a parenting book and sometimes, are just good to sell the book and remain in the book. It's so difficult to apply in real life. Sometimes I wonder if the writer has ever raised child/ren. At the end, I realise I do things according to my way, what could/couldn't be done depending on the situation. And most of the time, what can yield quick obedience and understanding from the kids. I also realise no kids are the same. Even if they come from the same womb. They can be so different from each other like chalks and charcoals.

But all in all, I'm quite proud of myself. If I could mark my own report card, I probably gave myself a B or B+.

A can read and do simple maths, is I think quite mature for her age, being able to help me with simple chores in the house (depending on her moods) like washing the dish, hanging the clothes, tidying up her bed. She can be a conversation partner too. (Thinking about it, she's such a sweet baby, my baby, I shouldn't have scolded and caned her today. I should have been more patient with her. She's not even five yet.)

Sy is such an active toddler. He's like a 'drama queen' and always act 'over'. He's overactive, very talkactive, very manja, very sensitive, very funny, very friendly ... he's like 'very' everything. Despite all these, he's already graduated toilet training since April and only wears diapers when he sleeps at night. That already saves us about RM50 per month. I can't help but be proud of his achievement.

Children are just like children. Sometimes, I'm afraid if my harsh ways may bring hatred in them. Many times, I found myself asking them if they love me and Am. And they always say 'sayang sangat-sangat'. And they always look forward to spending time with us. They're just children and look up at us as their heroes, their saviours.

But I'm just a far-from-perfect mother who always loses her patience and nags a lot ....

Of Tea and Ice Lychee Tea ...

KL is a 'hot' city. Sometimes, the weather is so hot you can hardly open you eyes. You kind of walk with your head down most of the time to avoid the heat. It's quite dangerous to walk that way though because you can't really see what's coming in or behind your way. It's ok if you bump into some people occasionally, but what if the wrong people, the types that can snatch your handbag, bracelet, necklace or yourself away, bump into you? So, probably, we should start walking with umbrellas, or big hats (the mexican type probably) more often, or better still with big sunglasses the Victoria Beckham style. Hmmm ... not quite fond of sunglasses though, because they remind me of Mrs Beckham!!!

While you're waiting for a taxi in the blazing sun, probably you start thinking of cold drinks, anything cold. I realise these days, while 'sunbathing', I keep thinking of ice lychee tea. Cold, fresh with some lychees and of course tea, especially from the mamak stall we (me and my partner) frequent almost every working day. The tea comes in a big glass which probably costs us about RM4 or RM5 (I don't really know because I don't 'meet' the cashier), but it's so delicious. It's actually more delicious than lychee syrup.

I've always like tea, and coffee of course. Compared to coffee, particularly instant coffee, tea is much cheaper, especially if you buy it in the loose form. The uncang ones are more expensive, but can still be considered cheap. You can even get much 'below the par' price if you buy the 'cap masjid' type, the almost 'hancur' one which is flavoured with syrup, pandan, or whatever and which color is so dark, it's almost red. But funny, it's actually so delicious and many people in kampungs like it. In fact, teh tarik is also tastier with the 'cap masjid' tea.

Tea always reminds me of Grandma. In Ramadhan, Tea O was our 'wajib' drink during sahur. We drank tea without creamer or milk, that has always been how most people in Terengganu drink their tea until these days. After eating our rice, we would drink our tea. Grandma prepared the tea in a stainless steel pot. It was not very sweet, because she knew I didn't like it very sweet. Usually, for me, she would pour half of the glass with the already prepared tea and another half with plain hot water. She knew exactly how I liked it. That reminds me of how 'manja and mua' I was at that time. I would sip it until the end of sahur time ... hmmm ... still remember how delicious it was, the taste, the smell. But of course tea at that time was just a cap masjid one, not the fancy types we have these days. And there was no Ice Lychee Tea either.

One ramadhan here in KL, I tried making tea the Grandma style, but somehow, the taste was not the same, the flavour, the smell was different although I made sure I used the cap masjid tea and the right portion of water ... then I realised, I couldn't and will not forever get the same tea I drank when I lived with Grandma, because obviously Grandma was not here ... and will never be here anymore. Things aren't and will never be the same. Al-Fatihah.