Questa è Enida

But noh, that was not the case. My point is…what is the point? What is the point of registering your number so honestly when some other dishonest people CAN be dishonest? Like I said to my mom, I could have written my name as Noorkumalasari if I so wanted. (I did, when I was in kindy – I even struck out my name on the back of my chalkboard and tulis “This chalkboard belongs to Noorkumalasari.” How I wanted to be Noorkumalasari’s adik angkat, jangan tak tau!)

So, tu lah dia. Today I went to the agent again to get 3 copies of the registration form for Bibik, Kar Cher and Pan Yau. Kebetulan we went out tonight to Low Yatt. They filled out and signed the forms. Tomorrow I can hantar the borang back to Celcom. I could have just signed the forms myself had I not seen them tonight. I thought the mandatory registration was a brilliant security measure. And I thought it was about time those involved were doing something to prevent anonymous sms-related crimes. So serious that Celcom has now sent out a ‘threat’ to its prepaid users warning those yang tak register will get their number “deactivated” comes January 1st 2007. Cik main serious lagi okay!

Elok-elok anda happy mengaktifkan hidup anda, Celcom berhak mentidakaktifkannya. Nah kau! Punya hot tak hot the link, I tell you. I wonder how the prepayors from the Active Planet are doing.

The truth is, I am not able to talk much lately. I mean, I have lost the ability to express my thoughts in speech. Temporarily (I hope)! Tetiber je on Monday, my throat started to feel very sore. It quickly turned into a sandpaper pipe. By Thursday, I couldn’t make a sound. If all I could say was boo, I would have liked to. But I could not. So the truth now is revealed.

Hari ni saya bertukor-tukor sms dengan Tuanku. Nothing stimulating and far from merangsangkan things that are not supposed to terangsang, of course. He was on duty at the Malaysian-Singaporean border today, and on a big ordnance operation of some sort. Sounds like kerap jugak Tuanku terpaksa berjauhan dengan kerabat, terutama anakanda nan bertiga.

But like in those ancient years, Tuanku rajin bercerita about his duties. Sometimes bahasa Tuanku agak formal, sending me smiles and chuckles. Just like bahasa Tuanku dalam hundreds of his letters, many many many years ago. Or did those years ever really exist? Ah well.

Have you ever thought of someone from your past and ended up thinking more about yourself? How you have changed, and what have become of you. Saya selalu. Mengenang Tuanku, saya sebenarnya mengenang betapa rumaja nya diriku ini waktu itu. Deep down I still am that. That rumaja, that is.

But my body obviously cannot stay that way. That rumaja, that is.
I have started to lose a lot of hair. Oh yes I am…balding. Probably not as bad as my deary hubby is. But hey, he’s a man. Bald men are somewhat sexy what? But the fact is, I really am balding. There are two ‘bays’ on my head now. And the part on top pf my forehead looks more like a ‘tanjung’ the way I am balding.

I have lost count of my grey hairs. Long time ago sudah. And now I am counting the black hair – lost. So, what have become of me? Kalau umur saya ditakdirkan panjang, people would probably think my hubby and I were twins. So what.

I’ve been meaning to say this for the longest time…that I don’t mind growing old. Though mencabut uban boleh menjadikan saya asyik in front of the mirror for hours, it is some kind of a satisfaction. Like this one advertisement I saw on Oprah magazine. A picture of an elderly woman. Grey hair, wrinkles on the face, eye-bags and what have you. Grey hair represents invaluable experience, and lines on her face stand for birthdays and anniversaries she has celebrated in her life. How graceful!

I thought of myself when I saw that ad. And now I thought of that ad when I see myself. Kadang-kadang saya bayangkan diri saya berdiri sendirian dalam hujan in a field, enjoying every little drop of an afternoon rain. Not that I can’t describe it further, but those who can imagine it…(put yourself there instead) should feel cool by now.

When I said sms’s dari Tuanku tak merangsangkan…I lied. They did today. Like they have been, lately. Merangsang saya untuk mengenang masa silam. Of what I was and what I was becoming. The very least, I would like to think that I have become drop-dead thoughtful.

So much has happened, so much is going on that when I read what I just wrote two weeks ago…I shook my head in disbelief. Did I really write that? Was I really thinking that? Ho mal di pensiero, veramente! Tu belum lagi rereading what I wrote two years ago! Do I dare? Hee heee heee. If I must tell you, I have been hiding myself. Just losing the ‘self’ quietly in my own thoughts lately. Or probably in your words, I have been hiding my thoughts in my ‘self’. Whatever!

I have been thinking, indeed. And quietly in my thoughts, I came to realize that I have become a quiet person. Ya know, keeping myself to myself kinda person. Believing that, “…in much of your talking, thinking is half murdered. For thought is a bird of space, that in a cage of words may indeed unfold its wings but cannot fly.” I have come to fear of how limited words and their meaning can be.

Sometimes it feels very lonely to think too much and not say a word. Like a bird who knows how to fly, but questions himself if it is safe to just stay and not fly. But I admit, in losing myself in my own thoughts, I do feel alive. I do see me as a self. A soul. A person.

Anyway…
I just came back from kampung after helping a bit here and there mengemas after my brother’s wedding. Things went not too bad. Biasalah, kenduri. Things like relatives who come overnight or two nights sleeping pillowlessly tu is so lah bound to happen. What do people expect kan. But one thing I did expect was a big meeting to assign this si polan and that si polan to do this and that. Now that didn’t happen. Do you think I know why? Don’t!

So there was a hiccup on the day. The very same thing that happened on my sister’s wedding close to two years earlier. Do you think we have learned from it? Obviously we haven’t. Nanti lah. It is a long story because you have to understand the root of it all. The base of it all. You have to know and understand my parents, and how well they communicate with each other (not). Nanti lah. Let me dwell on the pekung before I open it for all to read.

Nanti lah.
In the meantime, you can dwell on this…

TALKING

And then a scholar said, “Speak of Talking.”
And he answered, saying: You talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts; and when you can no longer dwell in the solitude of your heart you live in your lips, and sound is a diversion and a pastime. And in much of your talking, thinking is half murdered. For thought is a bird of space, that in a cage of words may indeed unfold its wings but cannot fly.

There are those among you who seek the talkative through fear of being alone. The silence of aloneness reveals to their eyes their naked selves and they would escape. And there are those who talk, and without knowledge or forethought reveal a truth which they themselves do not understand. And there are those who have the truth within them, but they tell it not in words.

In the bosom of such as these the spirit dwells in rhythmic silence.

When you meet your friend on the roadside or in the marketplace, let the spirit in you move your lips and direct your tongue. Let the voice within your voice speak to the ear of his ear; for his soul will keep the truth of your heart as the taste of the wine is remembered. When the color is forgotten and the vessel is no more.

Verily, I have been heaved by this latest request from a person who has been so berjasa to our little family. My laki and me have been so blessed and lucky to have her as our helper. That’s why when Bibik ketawa-ketawa kecil when she had to blurt the request to NOT complete her two-year contract with us…I felt like weeping inside. Verily, Bibik has just given us a verbal nine-month resignation notice this last Tuesday.

Pain comes from my true understanding of her situation. Rakiman, her beloved hubby, has been sms-ing asking her to come home. Bibik started with us April 2004. I remember the evening we picked her up at Senai Airport and how Kitreena muntah-ed on her in the car on the way from that Senai Airport lah jugak. That very night…already! I took it as a sign of how serasi Kitreena and Bibik would be. I was right. And so I just digressed. Ahak.

I wasn’t overly surprised with Bibik’s request. But I wasn’t prepared for it either. Immediately I was sent to the ‘anger’ stage. Angry at myself for not wanting to even think that one day Bibik will not be with us. That one day is coming, and we are counting down. I mean, how foolish I have been for hoping that Bibik will be with us for the next 6 years or so.

When the anger stage was over, I was delivered to the stage of ‘fear’ pulak. All this while I have obviously been lucky and comfortable for not having to deal with bad apples in the domestic-helper basket. Bibik is our first full-time and permanent helper (though nothing is permanent, now I know). So now…what if Bibik’s replacement turns out to be the worst nightmare people around me have been talking about? I don’t want to dwell on the negative thought, but…just what if!

At the moment I am indulging myself in the ‘sad’ stage. I truly feel for her. I’m a woman just like her. I have a husband, too. I know it’s not easy. Bibik had to go back to work to send her daughters through school. Though both of them have been adopted by Bibik’s siblings, for some reason it’s still on her to put the education funds together. (Rakiman, by the way, is her second marriage and not the biological father of her girls). I am sure Rakiman is helping out as well, but between a husband and a wife…what is money?

There are times when I feel that my sadness comes from my selfishness. I have been, I can’t say it enough, tremendously fortunate and extremely comfortable ever since Bibik. Hey, I am keeping a blog, for one! Not many women with two youngs kids in tow – even with maid(s) – have the luxury of blogging. I know for sure that Bibik will always be a benchmark of a domestic helper. She is simply the best, better than all the rest. Oh Tina!

Bibik is a very rajin gal – beyond your imagination of the kerajinan of any maid. [If you can recommend me a maid who is more rajin than Bibik and you know she’s paid less than RM800 per month, feel free to give me the address. I’ll hire her in no time.] Yes, Bibik takes her break from time to time when she has none to do. But more often than not, it is our order! She loves working in the yard. No matter how much we pay our gardeners, she always manages to find ways to improve our laman. Green-thumbed Bibik!

Kitreena and Edrick – I have no doubt I can trust both of my nyawa with Bibik. I might not like how she spoils Kitreena sometimes, and how Edrick can’t be let cry for three seconds…I know she probably loves my two kids not much less than I do them. Afterall, I know I love Bibik probably not much less than I love my own sister. I once told a friend that my principle is simple: I feed my maid what I feed myself because I want her to feed my children what I feed her.

Of course I am aware of bad apples, and I am counting my blessings (like always) that Bibik is more than just a good apple. She’s the best apple pie!

I used to iron everything you could think of. From the beddings to the undies. I even iron my umbrella. Yes, you heard me correctly. My umbrella. Not because it was wet or damp and I had to fold it into my carry bag or anything. But because it was crinkly. But ever since Bibik, I got to know another soul just like me. She doesn’t iron umbrellas, though. But she has kept insisting on ironing even kain buruk buat lap kitchen counter. So, if I don’t call her rajin…I don’t know how else to describe her.

But don’t get me wrong. Though to some of you Bibik may sound rajin tak bertempat…you must know, she gets everything done impeccably perfect and perfectly impeccable! In fact, she can get so much done in a day than what I can do in a given week – or month. When I first took her back to Oman, I had very little expectation that she was able to keep up with the way my husband and I kept the house. Spotless. Echeh! But in no time, she exceeded even our imagination of how our place could be. VERY spotless.

In only a few weeks Bibik with us, I could already make up my mind about what she is like. I kept thinking that Bibik, if had been given the education like I was, and had been placed in a family like – at least – mine…could have been so like me, or so much more!

She has the right attitude towards education. Her girls are apparently very bright – that’s why she had to go back to work with the ‘middle-eastern’ level of tangga-gaji. To enroll Dewi in a good school. Bibik can sing, I tell you. The first time I heard her “Suriram”, tears welled in my eyes. She has taught Kitreena a few Indonesian songs, too. But when it comes to songs, it goes both ways with them two. These days Kitreena is trying hard to teach Bibik “Ring a Ring of Roses”.

For our Open House last year, Bibik got the contract to make Karipaps. Her Karipaps were as laku as the caterer’s Roti Jala. What does that tell you? Often she sells herself short when it comes to making meals for the whole family. But often, I make it a point to praise her for her great effort – apart from the good cooking, of course. She CAN cook. She IS good at some dishes. She’s not perfect. But neither am I. Nor you.

Cleanliness?
Hmmm, if us Asians use middle names…cleanliness would be Bibik’s. Must I elaborate?

So, if I am drowning myself in my sadness of losing and missing Bibik end of this year…just let me be, I guess. Frankly speaking, it’s really dreadful to have to think about Bibik leaving, as much as Bibik II coming. I don’t think I even want to call her replacement “Bibik”. Ah well, who knows. I might be able to stretch my luck a while longer.

Lucky me!

I wish I could just sit down and write like this. I wish I could just write what I think with no care in the world. Whatever crosses my much too often too careful mind. I wish I could just be myself in this country I (so) call home. I wish I didn’t have to care too much about what could or would come out from what I wish I could write. I wish I could say it in a much simpler way than this. Like I wish it were much simpler than this.

But I am no liar.

I cannot tell you that life in Malaysia is a simple one. Simple as in…people get out of bed, get to work, earn a living, get off of work, get home, and voila! Time to get to bed again. It looks so much that way, though. Yes, it does. But I tell you, it’s not as simple as you might see or think. People do have a ‘life’ here. And most of them live their lives just to fight for EVERY thing. Yes, fight. Fight as in…berebut! [Rush!]

They berebut to get to work as though they loved their jobs like they loved their lives (not). They berebut to get food during lunch hour as if the food court were going to simply disappear if they didn’t scoop up the lauk in 0.274 second per tray. They berebut naik elevator without waiting for people to get out first, as though the elevator were going to take off like a rocket in a blink of an eye.

They berebut to get home from work, hence they berebut driving on the road like they were going to drown themselves in their own cirit right there in their vehicle. Trust me, I have seen a crazy friend drive like a mad chicken because of his “seru”. It was a do-or-die(rrhea) kamikaze type of driving. And so people berebut to go places. I sometimes wish roads were like a conveyer belt. Nobody passes anybody. You wait for your turn, and you get there when you get there.

I wish I didn’t have to believe that people berebut to get rich fast. But people do. And those who don’t…simply have to berebut jugak only to get by. That’s just the way it is here and that’s just the way it is. I wish it were otherwise, like I wish I didn’t have to ikut berebut sama. And so I don’t berebut. But then again, I have to still berebut to go the other way. In other words, I have to fight to NOT fight.

Just like we have to go to war for peace?

If God had a head…He would be shaking it in sorrow.
Ho mal di pensiero!

By the looks of it, the rainy season is over. Banyak yang panas; cuaca, suhu…of course, even hati. But who’s to say that both luka lama boleh berdarah kembali…like cinta lama boleh hangat kembali. I must be in the heat! Ahak.

She bounced back in no time, fully potty-trained and all, my Kitty.
The night when I wrote she had a tummy ache (when she was still in the hospital), I went back to her room to find her cot empty. So was the bed. My heart skipped a beat! Whatever it was, I thought, it had to be really serious that Daddy had to go with her.

But in no time the dua beranak emerged from the bathroom. Kitreena just had her whole system flushed – right on the bed! She didn’t quite make it to the pot. In Daddy’s words, there was like a good whole cup leaking from her diaper and running down her legs. Tu belum sukat what the diaper had successfully contained. I was so relieved, not to mention Kitreena lah kan. But it just HAD to happen when I wasn’t there, eh? Muahahaha. Not that I wished I were. Daddy got his brownie point big time that night.

My girl is now home, and still being kept home from school. But she’s up and about like nothing happened. On the potty training report, it took us only 3 days before she got the hang of it. Actually Be and I had started to feel the pressure and the guilt for not being disciplined enough to start her earlier. But we moved too much too often, and she didn’t have a routine until recently. (My feel-good side of story, anyway.)

So today things are looking pretty much back to normal. I finally got to enjoy not having to leave the house, for once. And now enjoying the rythm of the rainsong. Let it rain, January!

Kitreena was ‘partially’ discharged on Tuesday. They made me sign a form saying the patient went ‘on leave’. New concept. But it worked. We had to make two trips back to the ward daily so Kitreena could take her dose of antibiotics and nebulizer. This morning she was finally free from the tubes, though seemed sad to part with her make-believe cell phone (I drew a cell phone on the wrist-plate, so she could call Daddy or angel when she was in pain).

I am heading back to Gleaneagles in a few minutes today to settle the paperwork [read: bills].