hi peeps.
i remember my old home in Muar, the one where i spent my childhood with sticks, stones and a dozen scratches. it was there where i smile and laugh, and cry and sulk as a little girl.
when we first move into the house, there's nothing that could indicate a good house in the place. so father, being so good with woods and stuff, set to work with piles of quality woods and planks and soon we have a very nice door with beautiful locks (it was beautiful to the little me back then) and firm walls for the kitchen. he added the grills for protection and made a heavy wooden table for mother's stove. i remember helping mother arranging all the big pots in the compartment of the table. there's a small drain in the kitchen, where we used to have paper boat race when its raining and the water flows super fast. but ever since a monitor lizard got into the house, father cover the drain with planks to prevent any creature from entering the house. once, my second brother and i watch a tiny water snake swimming in the drain during one of the rainy days. watching the slithery creature swimming in the water makes me shudder at the thought of what other creature that hides under the drain. sometimes, a frog (or two) will pop out from the planks' sides and that really freak the hell out of me. i always avoided stepping on the planks when its raining for fear of having a frog jumping on my feet. instead, i took the stone steps.
being a modest house, the roof is made out of zinc and some of them leaks when its raining cats and dogs. father tirelessly repair the leaks but they just won't stop leaking. when the thunder cracks up in the sky, and lightning flashed here and there, we would take our pails and place them under the leaking part of the roof. if its a downpour, the floor will be as slippery as an eel. i grew up slipping on the floor so many time until father gets tired scolding me for not being careful. when the rain stops, my brothers will help mother to mop the floor and throw away the water in the pail into the drain. all i did was playing with the rain water when it leaks into the pail from the roof. such a naughty girl i used to be.
in the evening, the kitchen will smells of mother's marvelous cooking. my brothers will be 'sitting outside like a man' as my father used to say and i will cycle away in the front-yard with the neighbours kids. we'll play hopscotch, police and thief, chicken and fox, and all sorts of children games until the clock strike six and its time to go home. sometimes, my father will play badminton with me. i used to be so good in badminton but now its just a game to me. if my mother is free, i'll play basketball with her and my brother. she showed me some good tricks in basketball and she always impressed me with her 3 points shots. oh yes, my mother was a good sportswoman back in her Tunku Kurshiah college days.
it was in this particular house where i get my beatings from father when i did something wrong in his eyes. once when i was ten, he made me balance all my Harry Potter and Enid Blyton books on my head because i was too absorbed in reading them until i neglect my studies. he made me lie down under the chair when i can't memorized my table of multiplication when i was in Standard Two. those and some other punishment that's too painful and shameful to divulge. i had a balance childhood, full with laughter but not lacking the tears.
its was in this house where my little sister grew from a newborn into an energetic, adorable six years old. i was my brothers' favourite before she was born so of course i felt a little bit threatened with her presence. having lived in a pampered environment for six years made me envious of my little sister when she was the apple of my parents' eyes. but then, i couldn't help feeling happy to have such cute little sister who beats anyone that annoys her yet show her affection towards them in a blink of an eye. i remember chasing her walker until she bumps into the wall. my, what a heavy beatings i get from father because of that. since then, my sister's life is my responsibility. when she's about to fall, i will throw myself down first so she won't bump on the floor. if she wanted to pee but her legs are too short to move faster, i'll carry her and run like a superman, or risked getting wet with her urine while she look all relief and cozy. when she refuse to eat her meal, i will finish them up for her so that father won't scold her. no wonder i'm such a big eater. hahaha.
when school holiday mark its arrival, all four of us will have the holiday routine. we'll wake up every morning before eight, wash up and eat our breakfast, and proceed to study our brain dead at our dining table from nine to twelve o'clock. after lunch, we can do what we wants, watch tv, play (in the house), read comics, sleep, sleep, sleep, yet still we won't escape the chores of helping mother fold the clothes, something which i hate up until today. at night, we will continue studying from eight to ten, before father allow us to watch tv or read comics. my brothers will teach me maths and science (because i hate these subjects) and mother will come to let me rejoice in English language. sometimes my little sister will sit with us and act like she's studying too. my older brother, who loves drawing and is very good at it, will always have a few papers for my sister to draw and just scribble anything, an act of studying. mother and i will have our spelling sessions, reading and even essay writing. everytime i sit at the table to study, i always plead mother to teach me English, simply because i dislike the other subjects.
my father always went out at night to meet his friends, so my brothers will grab this chance to sneak into the living room and watch the tv. mother simply let us, but she insist on watching English movies only. when the sound of my father's motorcycle approached, we will scramble off to our feet and get back at study table, pretending to be studying. if father caught us slacking off from our study, his hands will be quicker than his mouth.
my primary school was not very far from my home so father will sent me at 6.45 am, because i am determined to maintain my image as the prefect who breath fire and cannons. yes, i'm fierce as hell. if my father made me wait more than five minutes at the school gate, i'd walk home with my bags all the way home. i swear my bags are the heaviest bag in the school. in fact, i have two bags, one which i carry on my back and one which i carry on my left hand. its always the left hand. at first father will pick me up half-way but soon he just let me walk home. walking home from school is my routine since i was Standard Three. now i understand why people always look shock when they see the tiny, fragile looking me walking home alone. it took my father five minutes to reach the school every morning with his motorcycle. at first, i took me more than half an hour to reach home but by the end of Standard Four, it took me fifteen to twenty minutes flat to reach home. i guess that's why i walk too fast now. haha.
when i entered Form Four, we moved to our current rent house. i'm not rich, never will be but i have everything that i need, and wants too. all the hardships, beatings and sadness that i face in my childhood makes me the strong girl i am today. i don't demand from people, i rarely flare up, i don't get myself involved in silly fights, i don't mind getting down and dirty, i don't mind mixing with the poor, because i understand fully what it means not having everything that you want. to be denied so many privileges as a child is enough to teach me not to demand so much as an adult.
adieu.
