I had two weeks.

Now, two weeks more have passed since the initial two weeks.

 

Two weeks ago, I was in Malaysia.

Two weeks later, I am in Creek Road, Greenwich, United Kingdom.

 

Hari Jumaat, 19 September 2008, Ida tau Ida akan ke UK hari tu. Malam tu.

Ida tau, Ayah tergesa gesa bawa Ida ke British High Commission untuk visa Ida.

Ida tau, Mak sibuk mencari kedai untuk beli inhaler Ida untuk Ida bawa ke Greenwich.

Ida tau, budak budak Johor naik KL hari tu sebab nak hantar Ida kat airport.

Ida tau, Abanglong balik awal hari tu sebab nak teman Ida ke UK.

Ida tau beg merah yang kat tepi rak buku tu, beg Ida.

 

Tapi, despite ni semua, Ida sendiri masih tak pasti apa yang tengah berlaku.

 

Kali terakhir Ida nampak no 44 Bukit Gasing, hari mendung. Hujan nak turun. Belum turun lagi. Bising. Arrangements sapa naik ngan sapa.

Mak ngan Ayah dah bising sebab Abanglong belum naik lagi.

A.Id sibuk tanya Wa ngan Mel pasal baju dia.

Usu dah marah sebab A.Mar tak sampai lagi.

Pakcik Shahdan kena marah lagi sebab tak buka gate.

Rezki seronok tengok orang lain kecoh.

 

Ida tunggu kat pintu Mercedes. Baju baru. Kasut baru. Beg baru.

Ida nampak semua benda. Ida dengar semua suara.

Ida masih tak tau apa yang terjadi.

 

Bila semua dah ready, nak masuk kete, Lia cakap, “Nengok Kak Ida. Nengok rumah buat kali terakhir.”

Ida senyum. Ida nengok.

Bila dah masuk kereta, orang dah sedia.

Ida masih tak tau apa apa.

 

The goodbye was painful. Literally painful.

I had gushes and gallons of tears more but I had been told to stop crying.

What do I do then? Swallow everything back in.

 

And did you know? It is very, very painful holding in tears.

 

Greenwich is beautiful.

The historic buildings, the Queen’s House, the Observatory, the Painted Hall.

Greenwich is beautiful.

The surroundings, the landscape, the shopping, the transportation.

Yes, indeed, Greenwich is beautiful.

But it’s not home.

 

Last Thursday evening, when Abanglong left me with tears, 20 pounds and countless times of trying to get the internet to work, was the time that I knew I am truly alone.

 

When he walked out of the flat, waving goodbye, I wanted to run at him and followed him home.

I waved until the door closed in behind him. And when I couldn’t see him anymore, went to the window and saw him out of the apartment.

He never turned back.

And I never felt so alone.

 

It is hard for everyone to leave home and study abroad.

Even harder for me.

 

I, who is used to having a driver drove me anywhere and everywhere.

I, who never have to worry about washing my own clothes.

Or cooking my own meals.

I, who never have to think about being on my own.

Always having my sisters and brothers and cousins to talk to.

Friends to accompany me.

 

Yes, I know it’s hard for everyone.

But it is definitely harder for me.

 

I, who only need to ask to get money.

I, who always can call my mother and receive an answer.

I, who always have the security of my dad at anytime and anywhen.

I, who rarely, oh so rarely, go out on my own.

I, who most of her time, sat at home.

Because home, is the most comfortable place.

 

In honest truth, I am missing my parents over everyone else.

Yes, I miss my sisters.

My brothers.

My cousins.

My friends.

 

But Mak and Ayah is…is just too much to think about.

Just listening to Mak’s voice over the phone takes great courage for me.

The time she said “Hello,” is the time my throat chokes in and tears pours out.

Everytime.

Ayah’s messages every morning, always starts with “Hi Ida.”

Everytime.

 

I have not heard Ayah’s voice in over a week.

But in every message he gave me every morning, comes with a voice.

His voice.

I can hear him saying “Hi Ida. Enjoy your day today,”

It’s a text message.

But I hear it, everytime.

 

Looking back, maybe the reason for it is because I didn’t spend as much time with them.

I was too busy with other people that I forgot to say a proper goodbye to Mak and Ayah.

I didn’t kiss them. Didn’t hug them.

And when I was with them, didn’t really fill in the gaps that was missing.

And now…I miss them like crazy.

 

And I want to come home so bad. Just so I can hug and kiss them again.

Just one more time.

 

My two beautiful sisters.

It has been so long without them.

I can still hear their voice sometime. Can still hear them fighting.

Hear them laugh.

Talking to them is not an option.

 

Its hard to talk to them just as it is hard to lie to them.

They would ask things that I won’t be able to answer.

To say, “Akak ok,” When I am trying so hard to settle in is hard.

 

My brothers.

Unexchangeable. Unavoidable.

Priceless.

 

Abang Id, who kept reminding me that “It’s okay.”

“It’s hard in the beginning…but you’ll like it eventually.”

Helped me pick what is necessary, what is not.

Always with his advices, one that he experienced it himself.

 

Abanglong.

I am forever forever grateful to him.

A week with me here in Greenwich.

Showed me everywhere, asked me everytime and always there.

Abanglong has many faces, but the one that I love most is the one that cried before leaving me alone and tried so hard in making me sure I am comfortable.

 

My cousins. My uncles. Aunties.

Dari Parit Bakar ke Kuala Lumpur.

Dari Kota Tinggi, Johor Bahru ke Kuala Lumpur.

 

They came all the way just to send me off.

With tears. With laughters. With love.

 

Those older than me, wonder how I would survive.

The girl that has always been with them.

Worry about me. Worry for me. Pray for me.

Daddy’s favourite girl.

 

Those younger than me, those that I kissed and hug.

Those that will be older. Different when I come back.

 

My family.

 

My friends.

 

Maya, Aliya, Kiss, Tengi. They made me the most wonderful video. One that I still appreciate and cherish. The things they said to me, about me, made you feel oh so wonderful.

I doesn’t matter if I don’t have much friends here, I know back home, they would always be there.

 

Farah, Sara, Sabrina, Malar and Lochna. It’s hard to believe that I just met them two years ago. I have not met some of them for quite some time but they send me off with confidence. Leaving me messages and support and always telling me that I can’t be leaving them.

I did.

But likewise, I know wherever I am, they would always love me.

 

Syira, Alex, Wan Xiong and Izzat and Nadiya. They came to the airport. It was a brief meeting but one that I appreciate nonetheless. Wan Xiong whom I fought with the last time, came with a present. Thank you for the stuffed puppy Wan Xiong. And Izzat, thanks for the book too. Syira and Alex, the bracelet, I wear 24/7. Tak buka buka. Nad, the only necklace that hang on my neck, is the one you gave me.

 

And my friends, everywhere, anywhere, thank you.

 

It has always been me. I who write about people around me. What I feel about them. How they are.

When Abanglong and Abang Id went away, I wrote a special post for them. Some sort of a tribute. I can’t do much. But I can write and therefore I wrote – sort of my special give for them.

 

I did not expect I would receive one in return.

 

http://itisrainingoutside.blogspot.com/2008/09/akak-i-hope-its-not-raining-over-there.html

 

I’m not sure I am all those things that Mel wrote on her blog. (I definitely do not have a beautiful heart) But I am touched. I am honoured.

I don’t have my internet connections yet, but everytime I get a hold of it in the library, I use it to open Mel’s blog.

It makes me happy. Makes me cry.

Such a beautiful give – just because it’s for me.

And me alone.

 

Here, the silent kills.

Of course, you have to minus the drunkards shouting in the middle of the night and the bizarre wind and the banging of doors.

When you minus it, you get total silence.

Something that I am not used to.

Such a strange feeling – being among strangers.

 

Here, washing and cleaning are my own responsibility.

Cooking and staying healthy are my own conscience.

Here, your expenditure and savings are on your own account.

 

To majority of people, this is nothing new to them.

But to me, it’s a whole new world.

One that I am currently managing well but still trying to get use to.

 

Di Greenwich, tak ada orang Melayu. Tak ada orang Malaysia. Mungkin.

It makes it lonelier.

Makes it slightly harder.

 

Hari Raya tiba on the 30^th of September 2008. Raya used to be my favourite time of the year. This year, I can’t differentiate between Hari Raya and any other normal day.

 

I wore my baju kurung to lectures. Hoping to drawn familiar eyes to the traditional clothes.

I only received weird looks and stares.

One that I don’t give a darn to.

It’s my culture. My people. My celebrations.

 

When I got back home, I celebrate Hari Raya with instant nasi goreng. The rice was hard and the taste bitter.

Selamat Hari Raya.

 

3.00 am. A call from Malaysia.

It’s 9.00 am in Malaysia. It’s Hari Raya.

I can see Sg. Balang. Parit Bakar.

I can hear takbir raya.

Then I hear suara Mak. Suara Ayah.

Cakap ngan Abanglong kejap.

Grunted to Mel and Wa.

Abang Id in Australia having the time of his life.

 

And when the 4 minutes- or- so call ended, heart is already too constricted.

Tears are unstoppable and my pillow soaked.

A message to ayah.

Just to make sure I get it across – my feelings.

To re-compensate my lack of speech on the phone.

 

Few messages from my cousins.

 

Selamat Hari Raya.

 

Often, I thought of dropping everything and go back.

Often, I look at the tube map and circle Paddington and then Heathrow.

Often, I look at the still unpacked bags wonder how many days still till I can go back home.

 

But then reality kicks in.

When I go to the market and buy salt to cook, eggs and few other things, I realized that I can’t go back.

Looking at the room now full with stuff that I can’t possible pack in my bag, I realized that its impossible.

 

It’s hard for everyone.

But definitely harder for me.

Definitely.

 

But I came to study.

To come back with something I can be proud of.

It is still surreal sometime. That I am here.

But here I am.

The pain in holding back tears makes me realize that I am here.

 

I came to study.

Therefore I will study.

 

Pray for me.

Help me be strong.

Help me do well.

 

Everyone else has done it.

Everyone else has done it.

There is no reason I can’t.

 

Pray for me.

Help me be strong.

Help me do well.

 

 

-Ida-