Mama's Struggles (to Make a Girl Out of Me)

I was wearing a long light yellow cotton tracksuit and a ‘Carebear’ t-shirt. My hair was short with a fringe that lies scruffily on my forehead, nearly covering my eyes. I grabbed my little blue bicycle, something I was proud to announce as my own-I bought it with money collected from Hari Raya ang-pows. Jumping on the bike, I cycled to Fuad’s.

‘Jom’ and with that, the two of us cycled to the ‘taman permainan’. There, our gang was already waiting. I can see the fun we’re gonna have, I can see which one of the boys is going to run home crying after a game of kejar-kejar.

‘Osom dulu’

And the game bagan.


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‘Ayu, tolong siram pokok’

Darn, I hated that. Especially when I was all ready for my bike ride.

‘Ala, Ma..Ayu nak pergi main ni’

‘Tolong la kejap je’.

If there’s anything I hated more than weeding and folding the laundry, it was watering the plants. I just can’t understand the reason for having too many plants in the garden. Mama prized them as if they were my younger siblings, talks to them, spends more time on them than she did on my lunch and pinched me whenever I stepped on one of her dainty greenies.

The bike was put aside, the water hose grabbed. There were many types of flowers in Mama’s garden. There were orchids-yellow, purple, white and red; there was the mysterious morning glory, the big, ugly sunflower, a much bigger and uglier tree called ‘Janda Kaya’-it was 3 times taller than I was with pink flowers with velvety surface. The ‘Janda Kaya’ flowers didn’t seem like happy flowers, as their petals always looked like they’re sagging and weeping-like a janda.

And there were also a group of greenies in pots, some of them were skinny and tall, some of them were bulky. I didn’t know the names and I couldn’t have cared less. All I knew was the more of them added to Mama’s garden, the more my job description was as an 8 year old. I watered them hastily, from the sunflowers to the fellas in pots. Finished, I hung the water hose, grabbed my bike and as I left the porch, I heard Mama screaming ‘Jangan main jauh-jauh’, to which I replied ‘OK!’

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Being friends with the girls is only when the boys are not around.

‘Munirah, kenape awak pakai banyak sangat bedak kat muke awak?’ she pouted and said nothing.

Munirah has a pair of very sepet eyes and fair skin, thanks to her Chinese nenek-a person she always quoted in all her conversations. I noticed she sported a pink hairband to keep her straight bob in place.

‘Cantik cekak awak Munirah. Bila awak beli?’

Her pout instantaneously turned into a smile. ‘Cantik kan? Nenek kite beli semalam’

It happens that anything new she wears has been bought ‘semalam’ by her ‘nenek’. Once, I complimented the baju kurung she wore to our kelas mengaji. Apparently the baju kurung too was bought ‘semalam’ by ‘nenek’. I knew that was a lie, because the baju kurung was actually worn by her during Hari Raya a few months back.

‘Jom main masak-masak’ she said, already standing up and pulling my hand.

‘Main masak-masak’ was the most horrifying thing to play, especially when I have experienced swimming in the sungai, playing with katak and hard core kejar-kejar with the boys-a game I owe my knees an apology for playing, for because of it, my knees have suffered many bruises. What despises me the most about playing masak-masak was the fact that it didn’t make me have to sit on a bike or run around.

I calmly looked at Munirah, Yaya and Nini who were laying down the plastic pots and pans. The second Munirah quipped ‘Nak masak apa?’ was the exact second I wished that Fuad and Farez were back from their vacation to take me away for a swim in the sungai.

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‘Assalamualaikum! Animmmmm....!’

‘Anim, cepat..Ayu dah panggil’ was the voice of Aunty Midah, Anim’s mother.

It was a night in Ramadhan and who best to bring with to the Surau for Tarawih than my best friend, Anim, a girl 2 years older than me.

‘Hi Ayu. Jom’ she said as she reached the door, already clad in her telekung. Tagging along behind her was her younger sister, Yaya.

‘Kite dengar malam ni diorang bagi makan nasi lemak la’

‘Ala, Ayu, Ayu nak dok sampai malam ke? Kite nak dok sampai 8 rakaat je’

‘Ala, tak best la..asek balik awal je..jom la dok lama sket. Papa kite tak kisah’

Along the way to the surau we bumped into more of my good friends-Fizah and her sister Wani, and also Munirah. We walked together. Jokes and stories were exchanged. This short walk to the surau defined my meaning of Ramadhan for most of my childhood years.

We entered the surau, went to the back row and changed into our telekungs.
We took places next to one another. And when the prayer started, I felt a sense of calmness. I had my friends on either side, and we were devoting ourselves to God.

Until this day, nothing has ever been more gratifying for me than being in the company of my loved ones-God and my friends.

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Helmi was a tall, skinny boy with fair skin. His eyes were sepet, his dark brown hair was short and straight, parted in the middle, sometimes covering his eyes. All this made him pretty much an eye candy.

It was a hot day and all of us were still waiting for our teacher to enter our classroom-a small space filled with 44 11 year old kids. I was ransacking my bag when I realized someone was standing on my right. Looking up, I saw Helmi, hands in his pocket.

‘Ayu ade sharperner?’ he quipped.

I looked into my pencil case.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t bring it today’

His eyes winked. And winked again. ‘Takpelah,’ he said, walking back to his place.

Later in the afternoon at home, Mama came back from her regular chit chat with other mommies in the neighbourhood.

‘Ayu, tadi Ayu ade cakap apa-apa dengan Helmi tak?’

I must have looked puzzled, so she continued ‘Tadi dia ada minta Ayu bagi dia pinjam sharperner tak?'

I nodded.

'Did you speak English with him?'

Another nod.

'Well, he came back from school and told his mother that you spoke English with him,' Mama said, tidying up the dining table.

Her tone was flat, which made me wonder whether or not it was a good thing answering Helmi in English that day. After all, it was just one sentence.

'Next time Ayu,' she said, 'when people ask you in Malay, you answer in Malay.'

That, besides 'don't talk with your mouth full' and 'sit properly' became part of my life-long rule.