Archive for the ‘Write On’ Category
He’s a Miner
Posted in Write On on February 12, 2021| Leave a Comment »
Purata
Posted in Write On, tagged Enida, self on February 5, 2021| Leave a Comment »
Especially today, for some indescribable reason, I was revisited by the urge to dissect my SELF. Yes, the self. Me: the character, the soul, the core, the being of Enida. My role, my existence, my Enida-ness, my Enida-desuです.
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After being awake for the last 48 hours, all I could think of now is some sort of a pre-mortem. Not that I am dying or anything. Well… I am. (But who isn’t?)
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I am happy now that I am happier. That’s for sure.
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Over the years of braving life on my own, though I keep my words to just few, I find it a lot easier to speak my mind at any given time, space, and mood. I care about tones and volumes a lot less than before. As a business runner that has now been employing a few Airwingers, I am signed up for a new role in leadership. Something I never had the chance to really explore other than leading my household of one daughter, one son, one domestic helper and one achy breaky heart.
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As much as I would like to believe that I am generally a friendly person, I don’t have many friends. Please don’t mind my Facebook Friends List — I probably only know 50 people from that list of 500. Twenty of which are families. And as much as I would like to believe that I am not an overly fussy person, I know I have cast many people away because of my terminal illness in language-correctness superiority complex.
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Nevertheless, the most recent changes in my way of carrying that self are in the ways I’m managing my expectations. My tolerance to nonsense is 0.01% max, my willingness to listen to excuses is just within micro-seconds, and my anticipation for sensibility in other people is way beyond infinity. I don’t know what it is. May be it’s old age, maybe it’s just my unrealistic hopes that the more advanced the technology is, the better equipped people are. The more readily available information is.
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But I forget. Human is human. Not all that I learned in Psychology can prepare me for this role I hold. Google doesn’t have every answer and I don’t always know what to search for. The intensity – and the stress – that comes with the communication and interaction among humans can, more often than not, be overwhelming. And as a leader, I have just alarmingly discovered that my leadership style is Pukul Rata (Purata) “Pukul dulu, kemudian pijak sampai rata.” Yes, I am so lah not that perempuan-perempuan, the term once used by my manager.
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My anticipation for sensibility, I dare repeat, is so high that I expect others to just have some sense in everything. In communication, in business, in any actions, in common things. Not many can stand my Pukul-n-Pijak-Rata ruling. I shoot, and won’t even ask questions later. After being betrayed and backstabbed by one trusted friend and being abandoned when I was in need, by another… I learned to not have mercy.
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And so I pukul-and-pijak no matter who. But trust me, the strong ones will get up, stronger. They will bounce back, higher. They live, they learn, they survive, better than ever. I have seen it. And those who are flat-out downbeat giver-uppers will just slide off and fade away. I have seen it too. People who can tahan my Pukul-and-Pijak now, can tahan anything in the future. Percayalah.
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After all I only pukul-and-pijak with words. I don’t do the ‘hand job’, nor do I ever naik kaki.
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Access Denied
Posted in Sense, Write On on May 8, 2020| Leave a Comment »
Paling Lama
Posted in Hope, Hurt, Write On, Writing on May 7, 2020| Leave a Comment »
Ini lah paling lama saya jalan terus. Diam tak singgah-singgah bertanya khabar fikiran sendiri yang sembunyi dalam waktu. Tak mengetuk pintu. Tak masuk ke ruang tamu. Tak lantas ke serambi. Tak duduk dan tak berdiri. Ini lah paling lama. Setahun dua hari.
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Setahun banyak yang hilang dan banyak yang ditinggal pergi. Sahabat yang menemui Ilahi. Anak-anak yang menyambung pendidikan di negara sendiri. Bibik yang kembali kepada anak-anak, cucu-cucu dan suami. Kawan-kawan yang hilang harga diri dan sanggup mengkhianati.
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Maka inilah paling lama saya tak berbunyi. Kata adik saya, sepi itu membunuh jiwa. Untung jiwa saya masih bangun melawan. Apa yang tak nampak di utara, saya berpaling ke selatan. Tapi tak hilang rupanya hati. Cuma mati.
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Lalu saya ketuk pintu yang lain.
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Sembunyi
Posted in Write On on April 28, 2019| Leave a Comment »
Dan kuhilangkan tapi-tapi
dari bait-bait puisi ini
agar engkau mencari erti.
Bukan sekadar menanti
rajukku sembuh sendiri.
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Tiada lagi ruang dan waktu
untuk rindu.
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Semua bunyi
terhenti di sini.
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* Enida
* Di sore ulangtahun sahabatku Fidö Didö 2019.
* Mesra Terrace
Pada Angan-Angan Berhantu
Posted in Mesra, Poetry, Writing on February 17, 2019| Leave a Comment »
.Sebuah angan-angan saja ini asalnya
yang kemudian aku lupa.
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Dan hanya pada setiap kali aku
berlimpasan di gedung kayu
menjadi kata-kata angan-anganku itu
sekejap saja pupus hapus ditiup waktu.
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Berdebu juga angan-angan
dan kata-kata menunggu masa
tak menjadi cita-cita.
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Entah dari gua mana berhantu
Tuhan datangkan setukangkayu
yang menggergaji angan-anganku
dan memahat kata-kataku
lalu memaku cita-citaku
menjadi bangku sepatu.
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Maha mendengar itu Tuhanku.
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*Enida
17 February 2019
#bangkusepatu
Antara
Posted in Write On on April 2, 2018| Leave a Comment »
Walk Ever
Posted in Hope, Write On on March 14, 2018| Leave a Comment »
When my last pair of white Kitay-Gorod walking shoes were put to their final rest, I swore I had no faith in finding another that would walk with me as long as they did. Nine years.
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And I swore my heart would never beat for another pair ever again. From then on, for many faithless years, I learned to take small steps again. One at a time. Not looking for a new pair to love.
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Until I fell.
For these…
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By All Means
Posted in Hope, Inside Enida, Monchies, Write On on February 16, 2018| Leave a Comment »
February 22, 2017:
I was going to say it’s way past my bedtime. But the truth is, I’m not sure when exactly my bedtime is. It has been shambolically at sixes and sevens these last few… years. Yes, it has been years since this kampung girl first ran around selling t-shirts for a mere hundred dollars.
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Five years, to be exact.
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There have been so many sleepless nights and sleepful days that in all honesty, I am beginning to miss me. Kids are growing up and growing fast. Our Mesra home has been without Bibik since 2015 and us three have grown remarkably unsusceptible to the dust on the corners of the staircase.
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As an abnormal family (as labeled by Kitreena), we are doing not too bad. Edrick has grown moustache and Kitreena has embraced vegetarianism. I still fit in many of my outfits from 1997 but they are mainly towels and baggy sweaters. I have more grey hair than brown, that’s for sure. To be able to visit my salon as often as I need to, I save hard. And I have found an inexpensive hairdresser in Ampang, although I still don’t go as often as I need to.
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But most importantly, with a moustached 11-year old son and a vegetarian daughter whose hair has grown straight, we have grown to love and embrace our abnormality.
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February 16, 2018:
I just read Syed Azmi’s post about a family in Melaka struggling to make ends meet. It was what the husband said about his little family that made me think about mine. My life without a husband, and my little family abnormal and all, I am happy to repeat after him… “Kami mungkin susah, tapi kami bahagia.”
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Susah is, by all means, subjective.
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A to Zzzz
Posted in Write On on February 16, 2018| Leave a Comment »
I mean… seriously!
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On Monday mornings I get up around 0530, 0615 the latest. In fact, on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday mornings I get up at 0500. Sometimes earlier, sometimes later. But no later than 0630. The drive to school depends on the timing and the traffic. What’s new? If we leave home before 0650, the drive is usually 20 minutes tops. But anything after 0700, it could go up to 40 minutes to an hour. I make my way home after the drop off between 0745 and 0815.
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And then it’s setting up time for me. The self, the body and the tummy. At times, work starts from the school gate and off to wherever things need to be delivered or picked up. Lucky if I get to come home to sip on Nescafe Gold in the kitchen. At other times, mornings are for the house maintenance work – waiting for the plumber, or the contractor. But there are always things to do. Whether it is work, or ‘home’ work.
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By noon, lunch is prepared, or at least set out from the freezer for early supper-cooking session. And that leaves me about an hour or so to look at t-shirts or hoodies to order from the suppliers, while taking orders online. And when there are modules to be prepared, I have to forget about breakfast, plumbing, cleaning up, cooking and sometimes ordering. But of course some days are diamonds and some days are stones. On diamond days, I get to do breakfast with my sisters or my trusted friends.
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In the afternoon, the kids are usually picked up on my way to, yet again, the suppliers, or tailors, or embroiderers, or what have you. But there are days that I have to rush them home for their music lessons or dance classes in the evening. And that works perfectly fine when I have to drive about 70km to another supplier, and 70km back, stopping at the bus terminal or the courier service stations for other deliveries. On the days without this long-distant delivery, the after-school time is always about school work, at home. I watch and I guide both kids doing their homework, single-handedly.
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By the time the day’s work is done, which is never truly done during the daylight… the sun is down. On diamond days, I get to be at home to cook meals for my kids and have the luxury of dining with them and asking them their highs and lows of the day. But when it is a stone day, lucky if I get home in time to say good night. I kiss them anyway… while they are sleeping. And then it is time for online orders and managing projects again. And I do some reading, to keep me alive. I write too, to keep me sane.
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The cycle starts again every morning after a good three to four hours of sleep.
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The only time I sleep in the morning or afternoon of Monday or Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday or Friday or any time before midnight is when I am dying.
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Thanks.
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