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December 29, 2009 by Enida

I would usually avoid starting a sentence in a post with “I” – hence you’ve seen many that started with “If”. Well, close enough. But tonight I am just going to let go of that care.

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I have read all blogs that are on my blogroll. Tonight. Yes. All of them. Loved the photo of the moth and the painting of a treetop-walk bridge on Emila‘s. Tagged along with Mak Andeh to Bali and made to miss those soft-spoken men of Bali. Drooled over Mat Labu‘s gulai’s. Sulked over Ahau-Dee‘s blog that has not been updated for 300 years! And got re-uplifted by the sugar rush on my daily Donut.

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I have also read all the early birthday wishes from families, friends, foes and foie gras. Five hours early for me, but hey… I celebrate my birthday 29 hours here in Moscow, 39 hours in Calgary. I know I am special. And I really should be working on the Thank-You replies right now. But I am not.

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I am just feeling a few degrees under the weather for the past 24 hours. The usual package: running nose, straying head, jumping tummy. You know, the lot. I am, nonetheless, still counting my blessings – thankful to be alive and feeling the pain of growing.

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No, I don’t feel my age. What I am feeling today has nothing to do with the aging process. Afterall, I made a pact with the devil on my 29th birthday in Paris… that my age from then on would be numberless.

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That my gray hair, each strand, would be a sign of wisdom. That my wrinkle, every line, would be an evidence of each road taken and well traveled. That my scars, each mark, would be a reminder of every lesson well learned. All, numberlessly.

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To all the well wishes sent by all well-wishers… Spasiba Bolshoi! I humbly dedicate each and every prayer I received today to the woman who made it all possible. Who made it all beautiful. The woman whom I was honored to be born to and through. The woman who was there on my happy birth day.

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I miss you…

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Posted in Write On | Tagged | 2 Comments »

Fallacy

December 25, 2009 by Enida

This  was  written  yesterday  with  breakfast, baking my second  Apple Wrapper Pie, rolling and slowcooking the turkey breasts, McDonald’s lunch, peeling carrots, potatoes, cutting french beans, steaming cauliflowers, Christmas Eve dinner, cleaning up, watching Il Grinch, interrupted sleep, screaming excited kids, opening Christmas gifts and two long hot showers in between.

 

Before I go peel the carrots, I should just stop playing the hanging skin and the clotted blood ball on my upper lip with my tongue. And before I go turn the turkey rolls in the slow-cooker, I should just get this bloody story out of my injured mouth. Ha!

 

So I went skating for the very first time in my life yesterday, December 23rd 2009 – Dee‘s birthday. Yes I did. With a complete awareness and full knowledge that the act would involve a lot of falling, I actually had a 96- hour-long debate with myself that ended up with a 2-word decision and an exclamation mark:
TRY IT!

 

I did. At 1030hrs Thursday morning, our little Johnson family was the first enthusiastic lot to get to the skating rink at Kitreena’s school. Kitreena was the first to get on the tennis-court size ice sheet and she just went gliding! Well, after two or three learning flops, of course. But yeah, the roller-blading skills sure helped.

 

It took me at least 20 minutes between getting the skates on – in that  -10°C weather – and getting into the rink. Not to mention that it took me 2 falls near the bench, and another when I entered the rink. (Well, I didn’t really want to mention the three falls. But hey… I got up three times, didn’t I!)

 

At the speed of two inches per second, I was gliding away – if you would want to please me and call it gliding anyway – for a good half an hour trying to get to the other side of the rink when my Canadian hubby glided by to give me some useful tips on skating. Of course, he was born in a refrigerator‡, he could skate as soon as he knew his alphabet! I believed him.

 

I could see, just like what Be suggested, that it made sense to lean my body a little forward as to give the momentum to the ‘glide’. So I listened and I tried it out. I leaned forward, slightly bending my knees, pushed through the air for about three waddles, and there I went…

 

DOWNWARD!

 

The next thing I knew my left knee hit the ice, then my palms and then my face. I fell! And it was the true and high definition of falling flat on one’s face, I thought. Well, at least that’s the first description that came to mind when I was down there facing the music ice.

 

In less than five seconds I could feel something trickling down my front teeth. And it took me no time at all to grind my teeth to check if I had to wish for My Two Front Teeth from Santa this Christmas. Sure enough the loss at that point was just probably half a cup of blood and the shape of my upper lip.

 

Between getting up and getting out of the rink, I had a mouthful of blood and a cashew-nut size of flesh from my upper lip hanging, waiting to be spit out. And when I finally did get out of the rink, get a little hole dug in the one-foot snow into which I could get the mouthful of blood spit out… I realized the lip flesh is still in tact and could not just be pulled off. Blood came rushing out when I tried to get rid of it.

 

The whole time I was trying to get my skates off, my winter boots back on, and my blood wiped… I was counting nothing but blessings. Boy, was I ever lucky! I am not done counting yet. Not sure when I will be, but until I can slow down counting, I will keep my bloody mouth shut and keep a list of gory thoughts in the draft for another post.

 

 

 

‡ refrigerator = Calgary, Alberta

 

Posted in Sense | Tagged | 1 Comment »

Ringgit, Rupiah, Rubel

December 21, 2009 by Enida

When asked by Be what I would like for Christmas, nothing else came to mind when I said, “Bibik, Babe!” Hubby grinned and responded, “Yeah, can we share?” Chuckle chuckle chuckle, and we both fell silent, looking at each other  in a quiet reminiscence of how in order life was when we shared our house with Ms Caskinih Kawi for those five years of our life in Oman and Malaysia.

 

Little that I knew that sharing this on Facebook – as I put my status as: “Enida, when asked what she wants for Christmas, said: “Bibik, please.” – would lead to an interesting discussion on Malaysian economic growth! Yeah, you can drop your jaw like that again! I must admit, the comments I got from an old friend got me rolling about Malaysians as a ‘service nation’, I tell you!

 

It all started when Julia asked if my Bibik was a Filipino, Indonesian or a Russian. And then Amir suggested that I should take a Malaysian domestic helper as they are now available – to which I responded…

 

Julia: I had a Bibik made in heaven for 5 years up until April this year. She’s back in Indramayu now but we keep a good flow of SMS’s between us every month. I would rather spend USD1200 on Bibik full-time than RM1200 on a part-time helper here.
 

Amir: I am not fussy about the nationality of a helper, hehe. I base my preference on the trust and experience dengan my Bibik – who actually was the strongest support system I had when I was in Oman.

 

Amir went on saying that it had been reported that Vietnam is catching up with us in growth and predicted to ‘overtake’ Malaysia just next year. And of course to which I replied:

 

Amir: But does growth determine availability of domestic helpers? Our economic growth has been up there but our people don’t believe in ‘servicing’ people, locally or abroad. Unless, of course, in specific business niche like post-natal services (confinement ladies providers).

 

It was when I saw Amir’s response next that I actually lost the plot of the whole discussion. I mean, I could not quite understand what he meant by: “Enida! i am very sure that you can distiguised services rendered! when you leave abroad!”

 

Well, me being Enida that I am, wrote in response…

 

Amir: Oh I am able to distinguish service that has been rendered for me. That’s why I’m assertive about my preference. Economic growth, I believe – in Malaysian context – is not relative to service availability. In fact, BECAUSE of our economic status among Asean countries, our people refuse to work in the Domestic Help line.

 

But then again, if economic status is an excuse, why don’t we see Malaysian Domestic Helpers in countries that pay them well (like here in Russia, a full-time helper makes between USD1200-1500 per month)?

 

That’s why I said, Malaysians are not a ‘service nation’. Tanyalah walau orang kampung yang hidup susah ambik upah cuci baju (just like any other domestic helpers), tak nak dia gaji RM4500 cuci baju kat Moscow. Excuses wil be: tak pandai cakap omputeh/Russian, susah nak tinggal mak/bapak/suami/anak/cucu, ayam/itik/kucing, sawah/pokok serai/pokok getah, takut susah cari halal food, omputeh/Russians tak suka orang Asia, etc.

 

You ask a Pinoy/Indonesian if they would want to make 70,000 Pesos/14 juta Rupiah… they would leave everything they’ve got. No excuses.

 

Trust me, I can host a talk show on this topic alone if you let me! Kalah Kak Nita, Kak Oprah and Abang Jerry Springer semua. So don’t let me, okay?

 

 

Dah. Enida nak pegi potong kuku. Sebelum adegan berchekau berlanjutan menjadi adegan berchakorrr yang anda ingin sangat lihat sebenornye. Kan?

 

Posted in Sense, Service | Tagged | 6 Comments »

It Is Well With My Soul

December 18, 2009 by Enida

God works in His mysterious ways to restore me when, in the midst of all hurt and pain I chose to almost drown myself into, He pointed me to an old box to find a piece of paper with this on…

 

“Should you despair over a relationship gone bad;
think of the person who has never known what it’s like to love
and be loved in return.

 

Should you find yourself the victim of other people’s bitterness,
ignorance, smallness or insecurities; remember, things could be worse.
You could be them!”

 

I literally belted up for one good heavenly minute, took the deepest breath I had not taken since October 5th 2008 walking away from the enemy gate, then in great relief belted out… “Oh Enida! God loves you!”

 

Nothing felt better after that than putting the Watsons shower cap on my head, singing to the tune of Ville Du Havre in the shower, and smirking at every little lie someone (has been telling and) has to tell herself through her teeth for the rest of her perfect life to deny her bitterness towards her warehouse-sale-price self, to deny her ignorance, the smallness of her conscience, and her insecurities.

 

Pity.

 

Posted in Hurt, Sense | Tagged | Leave a Comment »

Can I?

December 16, 2009 by Enida

If I am to be blamed for finding what I wasn’t looking for, then if you ever asked why I looked… I would just give you the answer all fools have given, “Because it’s there and because I can.”  The pictures, that is.

 

If I choose to feel the pain this time and be hurt by what I wasn’t supposed to see, then if you ever asked why I kept picking at the scab… I would unashamedly be that human left with no strength and say, “Because it’s there and because I can.” The wound, that is.

 

If I am cornered, left to deal with this emotion no one dares to call it anything else but anger, then if you ever asked why I couldn’t just forget it and move on… I would with no pride say, “Because it’s there and because I can.” The past, that is.

 

And if I just let me be that weak foolish human being unable to move forward, pulled back by painful reminders I didn’t know I was supposed to avoid… then let me make my mistakes. Because I am just a human. Because mistakes are there and I can make them.

 

I don’t hate many people. But because I am just a human today, I hate you. You keep making nothing but the same mistakes. I don’t hate many things either. But because I saw what wasn’t meant for me to see, I hate your mistakes. They keep bringing nothing but pain. (I called them lessons before, those mistakes. But I wasn’t human then.)

 

If you ever cared enough to ask why the hate now, I would just say, “Because it’s there, and I can choose to either live it or leave it.” The pain, that is.

 

 

 

I have not learned my lessons well, have I?
Maybe I should just walk away.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Hurt | Tagged , , | 4 Comments »

Dingin Air Yang Beku

December 14, 2009 by Enida

According to the weather forecast, it is going to be 20 degrees well under zero today. When we woke up this morning around 7, it was already -14°C. And at the time of writing this post, Facebook Weather is reporting -18°C in Moscow and “Fair”.

 

Fair? It’s only fair that we have heaters and a fireplace in the house, and have to bundle up if we’re thinking of getting anywhere near the door! Fair thee well!

 

 

It was fairly fun though this morning to tease Kitreena. With a straight face I told her not to stick her tongue out too long in the air during outdoor playtime at school.

 

“Why Mom?”

“Your tongue will freeze, Monch!”

“That’s right.” Daddy added. Now he got me thinking if it was true!

“And no matter what, do not cry! Your tears will freeze out and you can go blind!”

 

Kitreena looked really shocked with this new thing she learned about the subzero weather. Worried, if not scared. Though she was born on a subzero winter night, she had never lived in a four-season place, never had to live a subzero life… walk to school against a subzero biting wind, at least.

 

I don’t know if our tongue or tears can freeze in this weather. But I had to put on a heavy winter jacket just to get close to the garage door this morning – to open it and let me Monchie out, walking to school. I told Kitreena the freezing tongue-and-tears was just a joke. Let’s see if Kitreena’s mothertongue freezes today and she comes home speaking Russian.

 

 

Posted in Monchies | Tagged | Leave a Comment »

We’ll Make It Through

December 9, 2009 by Enida

Dear Dove,
I was standing in the corridor just outside the gym waiting for Kitreena to finish her basketball game last Wednesday when I realized it was no fun anymore. Standing in the corridor outside the gym here is not as exciting as standing in the corridor of that school, with you.

 

You and our silly underarm-hair stories. You and the gossip about those parents with their designer-kids. You and our exchange of reminders that although we are no engineers, nor are we ever to be seen wearing a Coach bag on each arm purchased with a split-second decision (and paying for them through our nose credit card scheme for the next 98++ months), we are doing okay.

 

I miss those little ‘Hey you!’ and ‘Don’t hug me, I stink!’ greetings in the morning at the school parking. I hugged you anyway. I miss those little ‘I see you at 3!’ and ‘Don’t drive too fast!’ goodbyes when we walked from the canteen or past the security post. I drove fast and drove you crazy anyway.

 

I can’t make myself sit on those low benches – the kind that they usually have in the gyms – anymore. For I fear I would miss you so much I could cry while watching basketball games. I don’t look around for familiar faces – the way I used to do whenever you saw me – anymore. For I fear I would not find you, miss you even more and for the fear that I would cry anyway.

 

The thing is, I don’t cry anymore. Not the way I used to cry with you. Sad stories were told with smiles on our face back then, when we realized we were just two little doves trying to mend our hearts and fix our wings. No matter how cruel love was treating us, we were saved by each other in that corridor. We kept on flying.

 

And the thing is, I don’t laugh anymore. Not the way I used to laugh with you. Burdens were weightless back then, when we caught ourselves talking about things as silly as unwanted hairs and Panasonic mother-pluckers. No matter how challenging the struggle was to come close to being sane moms, we were comforted by each other’s craziness in that corridor. We kept on going.

 

And the thing is, I don’t try anymore. I don’t try to make new friends, to make things better, to make do with this broken heart of mine, to make fun of heartaches and betrayal stories, to make out what love  is all about, or to make sense of what life is throwing at my face. For peace’s sake, I don’t even try to make peace with my past, present or future!

 

These days I just make a point that those unwanted hairs are plucked, make believe that my voice sounds like an angel singing when I’m yelling, and make sure to chin up and think of you when the corridor seems too long to make pass, walk through, or stand in. And I do make time to stand on my knees and be alone with Him too.

 

Maybe when I am back in Malaysia next time you and I should go for a total makeover eh?

 

 

 

 

Posted in Sense | Tagged | 1 Comment »

Yester Pester

December 9, 2009 by Enida

“All I have, as a matter of stating the painfully obvious, is one life. I have lived it in a way that no clocks can ever put yesterday back into tomorrow.”

 

Did I really write that? Oh my, I sure did!

 

Posted in Write On | Tagged | Leave a Comment »

Tales From The Dark Side

December 8, 2009 by Enida

I let out a sigh saying, “Awwwhhh it’s getting dark now,” to Edrick who came to me at my corner to give Mommy an afternoon hug.

 

“Why is it getting dark, Mom?”

 

“Because it’s four o’clock and it’s winter.”

 

“Then we need to pick up the sun and put it back up over there, Mom!” Edrick pointed at the space between the two blocks of townhouses seen from our dining room window.

 

I could not hold back a chuckle.

 

“I am serious, Mom!”

 

 

I chuckled even louder, thinking…
Who cares about the sun. I have my sunny-side up son right here in my dining room. Seriously!

 

 

Posted in Monchies | Tagged , | 1 Comment »

Unbecoming Enida

December 8, 2009 by Enida

If I could find a picture to manifest the way I feel right now, I would. It would be easier. But I don’t feel like looking for a picture now. No. Not this morning. If I could say it in words, I would type a thousand words more, I assure you I would do that too. But isn’t that what I have been doing?

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It doesn’t get any easier if you choose to read my words with your thoughts, giving them your meanings. Dare you call me a liar when all I write is about myself? Who do you think you are to tell me how to be Enida? Come then… become me for a day. And write the way I write my thoughts, with the words I see my truth through.

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If you are reading this, chances are this is not about you. Please don’t flatter yourself. For those who are reading, those who are reading between the lines, and those who aren’t reading… I am just going to copy and paste what my KaCher wrote on her profile about her writing and her needs to write.

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“I write because I want to, because I feel good doing it, because I can. It doesn’t matter what I write, truth or lies, they all come from a place you wouldn’t know. So if you ever feel at any time that you understand me, save it. You don’t.”

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I repeat:

“… It doesn’t matter what I write, truth or lies, they all come from a place you wouldn’t know.”

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Peace to the world, haaiihhh! 🙂

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Posted in Sense | Tagged | 1 Comment »

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