The Humble Beginning

In this life, my journey began in a small Malay village located on the northern part of Malaysian peninsula. I was born into a big Muslim family, 7 of us all together ,5 sisters and 2 brothers . Hardly surprising the youngest one eventually turned into fairy as well. Our upbringings were rooted in Islamic values- we were modest I would say but still with a lots of do and donts. Sometimes, I jokingly compare my family to the Disney Princess’ Snow White and the 7 dwarfs , just for the number.

In Arabic , my names transalates into “ pure” and in Malay it means ‘proof’

I hated my name in school because of the meaning in Malay .

I was the all sort of proof ( water proof, fireproof, bullet proof etc)

But when my Arab’ friends enlightened me on the beautiful meaning I was smitten because in our culture name is like prayer , a wise parents will pick a good name for their children.

Maybe I will be as pure as my name someday.

Living in the underprivillage traditional family taught me about hard life early . We were poor money was scarce and sometime we didn’t have food on the table. Life wasn’t easy but still overall wasnt much to complaint as we were still thriving.Materially we were short but the love was there. My late parents were paddy planters, meaning the house meagre income depends mostly on the bi annual harvesting seasons which usually fall short.

Nevertheless I was still very much spoiled, going to Taiping Zoo now and then was luxury and my dad would insist to do my fine hair every morning till I was in high school. Dad was the better cook compared to mom and in fact he did weddings in the neighbourhood as well. During the Eid Al Adha, he will be busy with his gang sorting out, cutting and processing the many cows sacrificed during the celebration which honour the Prophet Abraham's sacrifice to Allah.

On Thursday' night we sat down and watched Nat geo together. Thats how my love of nature and animals flourished .

Mom was the loving mom she was , she would always be checking for me first whenever she returned from long hard day at the paddy fields . She affectionately call me ‘maslodeng’ making sure am all ok at home. My auntie told me that I was breastfed until I aged 4 , extra i know but I was too young to remember but am sure it was out of mothers genuine act of love, strictly no paedo or abuse here whatever you might think. She used to "hire" me to pull her grey hairs and as a token i got 20 cent for each.

Sadly ,we lost her early in her 40s, alone in the hospital due to kidney failure while dad was away for lunch. She was pretty sick for sometime, a check up at local clinic led to emergency hospital admission.I remember when the ambulance took her away, little that I know that that was the last moment I saw her. Two policemen came to deliver the aweful news. I was 10 years old, it was very odd, I didn’t shed a single tear I didn’t know what I was feeling. I was overwhelmed and confused.

Life was harder then, expectedly with all the pressures , dad become increasingly hot tempered , angry. Fortunately it was just verbal, we were lucky that he never laid his hands on us. We were big in number big family but sadly I didn’t feel like I have one.

The family dynamic was different, we are cold blooded, everybody just minded themselves.

The perfect family we were unfortunately not.

We were just family by blood , I wasn't really closed to my siblings, and over time due to distance, my relationship with my dad was let say okay at best.

I left home since the aged of 16 for almost 10 years with boarding school, pre university programme and then undergraduate study abroad.

I had nobody to confide to and had to be independent early by default.

I had to parent myself and so as for the rest of my siblings.

I was once closed to my youngest sister but we drifted apart after one stupid fight. I didn’t know how to ask or to give forgiveness . I convinced myself that we simply bad at showing love but we do cared about each other.

At least now, we have the family' Whatsapp group so everybody can keep in touch.

Life was difficult but I was good at keeping myself occupied and entertained , I made myself useful helping with the house chores, sweeping dried mango and coconut leaves or any rubbish around the house yard to growing some vegetables. We were resourceful we had chillies, lady fingers, and eggplants to name a few. I planted pandan once, and they grew well maybe too well. In Malay cooking, pandan leaves are known for their fragrance aromas and their beautiful natural green colour.

When I was 13, my dad gave me the honour to cook rice as well, that was easy job with rice cooker.

The muddy paddy fields were my occasional playground , we made fun pottery out of the clay and in dry season, we be after some tasty freshwater fish like the gouramis the catfish,the snakeheads which were in abundance as they receded to smaller puddles and ponds.Sometimes we caught eels as well but purely for sales, the slimy very agile snake looking creatures were far from appetising to me back then. My brother would used special overnight traps but for me, a home made eel fishing rod would do which include a short bamboo rod, a sturdy hook and good strong wire. As the water drying out, you can see plenty of eels’ breathing holes along the shallow ditches in the paddy field . Just tap or stir the water inside the hole and if it goes up and down , it means there is eel burrowing inside. The bigger the hole the bigger the eel usually( same not applicable to human).

In my childhood , I was more of a lady making me the easy target the butt of jokes for many.

Pondan or faggot!!! I heard that quite a lots.

At times I deepen my voice or acted manly hoping that they will spare me. I changed my walks too as I was told feminine .

No hips swinging! You are man!

My flat bum suffered the wrath for this , a flying kick from my brother - enough to keep my walk corrected lol.

Lucky them I didn’t pulled Naomis’ lagendary walk plus the twist and turns.

I wasn’t accepted as myself but rather expected to conform to their's set of values and norms.

Men to be 'men 'and women to be women ,

Talking about early childhood toxic masculinity.

Was it really a surprise I wasnt the typical boy when I have 5 sisters and the person I very closed with was mom.

Being introvert , I very much socially inept. Loner you might say but I made the most out of it , that was my normal. Being alone doesn’t always equal to lonely . All the boys in the village were into football and I would be the odd one standing in the corner pretending I was busy doing something else. There was no smartphone back then and Nokia was still the jaggernaught in the world . I wasnt and never will be a fan of football, and of course the universe heard me - lots of football again and again from my primary school to my university years in Trinity College.

I was the defender defending himself, every time the ball comes, i would abandoned the keeper and ran away .

Still very bad at it ! Still hate football but good thing now that was long long history.

My social skill was non existence and I dreaded weddings back then because I have nobody to go with. I would just stayed at home hungry because I was beyond shy and dad will then be pissed at me because we have nothing to eat at home . He will asked why I didnt go? and I just kept quiet. That was tough one , don’t let a kid goes hungry, its heartbreaking.

Dad despite his ill tempered, he did his very best to provide for all of us . He would cycled me back and forth to school daily for years.I remember when I was chosen as school prefect, I had to wear plain yellow shirt. Mine was ready for collection but we had no money. The shirt probably merey worth around 6 euros but every time my teacher asked , I lied saying mine wasn’t ready. Dad took on construction job which paid him peanut so I can have the shirt .

Looking back, I would never do that to my dad and I would say no to the appointment.

Dad eventually passed away in his 80s at the beginning of Covid.

He was frail for sometime and his mind was like a kid again.

I decided not to travel home as in line with islamic tradition for early burial the funeral will be well over before i arrived.

On the hindsight am glad that he left us at the right time before the covid chaos.

I wished i treated him better when he was still alive but am sure he is all smiling now from above.

Our hardships and coming from the lacks taught me something about gratitude , to appreciate everything I have and very equally important as well to be thankful to what I didnt have. I also learnt to enjoy simple things in life as those bring comfort and peace to my heart. Am believer that whatever we have is borrowed and won’t last forever.

What if we lost everything tomorrow?

It gives different perspective and deeper meaning to life at least certainly to me.

‘ Sambal’ fish was luxury