1
‘To rise by lifting others’
“Babah, I like to eat those too! Why don’t
they give it to me instead?”. He just smiled.
Babah is how I address my father, a
pretty common name to be used by Malays instead of dad, papa or abi. I like how
it sounds, babah, like a toddler mumbling
words. At least, that’s what my friends used to say. At my younger age, babah was my main role model. The one I
always look up to, even until now. He pretty much is the one who made me who I am
today even though I have to admit, some of his teachings washed away because of
my arrogant way of viewing life.
Charity and volunteering have always
been so close to our family ever since I was a kid. I used to hate it back
then, putting so much effort in packing goodies and food just to give it away
to some kids. All those choki-choki,
nyum-nyum and my strawberry lollies gone in front of my eyes. Fair to say,
I didn’t understand back then that those things I want to myself, that I could
easily get with few cents off my school allowance, were in fact a big source of
happiness to those orphan in a secluded orphanage off the main road somewhere
in Sabak Bernam.
There was one particular time that I
still remember until now, the first babah
brought us there. I was in standard 3, starting to get into rebellious self
along with my sisters, Baby, despite the nickname she is my elder sister and Cicah, short for Arisah, my younger
sister, the youngest in our family. It was Friday evening and I had been
waiting for the weekend to come for what it seemed like ages.
‘Babah is here!”
With that simple three worded
sentence, you could make the laziest three bums to get up and change out of
school uniform and into a decent, clean pajamas in a blink of an eye. Babah was that strict Asian parent okay?
We could always sense if babah is pulling up the drive because the sound his beloved old Mercedes
made. And yet again, our senses didn’t lie. My dad came home with two large
plastic bags of heaven! And by heaven I meant all sort of candies; my
favourites on top of that. ‘Is it my
birthday? Is it because I did well in the last exam?’
My dad
looked at my sisters and me with a huge grin on his face, a pretty suspicious
grin I would say at that time.
“Okay Nina, Baby and Cicah, I want you to pack
these into small goody bags. We’re going to do something fun tomorrow!”
“What is it
babah?”
Obviously, like other Asian parents,
they would just not answer your question. Knowing my father would scold us if
we don’t get right onto it, the three of us starts to pack one by one. It is
safe to say after few hours, only three quarter of the candies babah bought went into those goody bags.
The rest? I don’t know, gone. (Just in case babah
stumble upon this)
Update: Babah never ask us anything until
today, we’re safe.
After that tiring task, I went to
sleep with excitement of tomorrow’s ‘fun’. The ‘fun’ starts at 6 in the
morning. I clearly remember babah
said it will be fun but waking up early wasn’t. Being on a road for an hour is
certainly wasn’t. We pulled up into what I could describe as basic building
with a small wooden house next to it. All I know that time was that there’s
people with no parents live there and they are called anak yatim. I heard about it at school, where they get free food
during rehat. I always thought they
were lucky to be able to leave classroom earlier than the rest of us and to not
have to line up to buy food during rehat.
I didn’t know they live in place like this.
Slowly, there were kids my age
coming towards us and salam Babah. Some
of them even hugged him. We handed out the goody bags and babah proceeds to pass few large black plastic bags to one of the pakciks there. I can still remember
those smile on some of kids faces when they were opening the goody bags. Yes,
of course I did ask some from them and yes, they gave it to me before babah came and stopped me from asking
for more. The day went on,my sisters and I made friends with some of them and Babah
went to talk to the pakciks.
That became one of few activities that
my family do for years. And I still ask babah
to bring us to the orphanage these days. Because I learned as I was growing
up, it really is a fun thing to do. To bring smile to others. To rise by lifting
others.
2
‘It takes pieces to make a whole’
This happened when I was probably in standard 6
or earlier, I can’t really rember as it was more like a sequence of events
rather than a one-time thing.
Our house was situated right across a large
field where the city council built a playground on it. From what I remember, it
was a fun place to play at with all my friends when I was younger but I stopped
going eventually as it was ‘too embarassing’ for me. I can’t remember exactly
when but after some time, a group of teenager would hang around at that
playground at night and to our surprise, broken pieces of bottle could be found
around that area the next day.
Unfortunately, no one did anything (map of the distance
of city council office and the playground will be drawn to rationalise my
anger) and that just kept happening over few days and drastic change can be
seen happening. There won’t as much kids playing there anymore in the evening. Fear
of your kids stepping on pieces of glass, alcohol bottle on top of that, is
understandable for parents to stop their kids from going.
So, out of concern, babah suggest that we go and pick up broken pieces of
alcohol bottle at the playground opposite my house. Just us. Just the four of
us!
“That is sharp and Ustaz said its haram!”
I did say
that to my dad as my final attempt to make my dad change his mind. I don’t particularly
hate the idea, I was at the age where I could understand why we should do it. But,
no one else in the neighbourhood are joining us. So why? Why do we have to be
the one doing it. We are not the one drinking and breaking all those bottles
and none of us definitely not going to have play time in the evening at the
playground anymore.
