My Adopted Kid Brother

 I remember that. The precious moment…

Setting of Place: Mc Donald’s.

Town: Sibu.

State: Sarawak.

Country: Malaysia. (or where else could it be?)

We’re having breakfast. Probably, at lunchtime. Or maybe, dinnertime. Oh God, I quite have a bad memory. Sorry about that. The point is, after the last few months, that lovely moment is still freshly stuck in my head. Until today!

Me and Harlister Iwan, my beloved student a.k.a this year’s PMR candidate, went out together. Like a loving couple but of course not! When? The date? Erm…I feel quite unsure. It’s like, I’m suffering Alzheimer. Oh God.

We both were sitting opposite to each other. How sweet! Haha. On the ground floor of the fast food restaurant, serving popular American fast food. Trust me, I would rather not eat fast food. Still, I frequently drop by. Shit!

One question I used to inquire to this intelligent male student. The form of the question was a little bit different, fully changed. The meaning was still the same, though. The main idea was still there: 

Would you care to be my adopted little brother?

Cikgu Effie, a BM teacher a.k.a the Head Panel of BM in the school, used to recommend that I take his family to be my adopted family. You know that I’ve got nobody in the ‘Land of the Hornbill’. Which is a thousand miles away from the state I was born. Every weekend, there’s no countryside I can go home to.

The Sibu town has to be my ‘countryside’ at times. The place where I regularly cope with my workload pressure. No, I’m kidding. To escape from my boring life there in Batang Igan. Should there be as a stunning beach as Pantai Batu Burok in Kuala Terengganu, I might spend my evenings wandering at the beach.

In the past, if I was going nowhere during weekends, I’d come home with him. Going back to the student's home somewhere in Kampung Bungan Besar. Approximately 15 minutes away from the secondary school. About an hour away from the Kut River. The distance between the river and Dalat town is twenty minutes drive or so, if I’m not mistaken.

Only can we reach Kampung Bungan Besar by boat. The small boat is able to occupy no more than four chubby passengers. Can’t exceed than that or else it’s definitely going to sink! Hoho. Just like the Titanic. And, I don’t want that to happen, for sure. I want to be safe, of course! Don’t you?

Gotta say that Cikgu Effie’s suggestion sounded pretty good! It’s a very brilliant idea, indeed. And I love it. Yet, even so, something had ceased my good intention. Did I deserve it? Would they ever accept me as their new family member, anyway?

“Cikgu Effie cakap kat saya, kenapa saya tak ambik awak sebagai adik angkat.” I heard myself saying.

It’s not a question. More like a statement instead. I did it with courage. Without any feeling of humiliation. As if I was asking the Prime Minister a question. As a matter of fact, couldn’t deny I was really too abashed to ask such a question to him. At that moment. Fancied covering myself with a damn thick blanket. Like in the winter (There's no winter in Malaysia! Heehee...). Or wearing a mask like Spiderman so he would never recognise who I was. Ah, what a shame!

Guess what kind of answer coming out of his mouth afterwards? The answer neither sounded ‘he-would-take-it-as-a-yes’ nor the other way round. This was his very answer, “Nanti saya tanya apak saya.” Apak which is a Melanau Mukah language word means ‘daddy’ in English. But nevertheless, he never told me the answer till today. LOL.

He might’ve forgotten. Or, maybe, he doesn't even wanna be my adopted kid brother at all! A mere wishful thinking, perhaps? I’m starting to make such a nonsense speculation.

Me and Harlister during our holidays at Snow World, Genting Highlands, Pahang

This afternoon, at 3:39p.m., things have changed. After I dared inquire him this question myself. To my mind, if he disliked me, he couldn't be this close to me, right? Even though I was too fond of bullying him most of the times (How cruel!). The question probably sounds a piece of cake to us but on his behalf, things grew slightly awkward to give an answer. As complicated as an Additional Mathematic question!

Would you reckon that he took 16 minutes to reply to my sms. Axiomatically, it’s a really hard question. I told you! He was likely to be thinking of the finest, most precise answer, I thought. As if an ‘alive-or-dead’ question or something. Whoa! (He’s got a kind of good thinking, I must say.)

“Boleh…asal Cikgu bersabar…Cikgu tau perangai saya kan?” replied Harlister candidly.

I psyched himself, deliberately. Attempting to tell him my heartbreak toward the replied answer. Sulking, allegedly.

“Tak pe. Saya tak paksa. Tak kecik hati pun.” – my 4:01 p.m. message.

He shortly replied, “Okeylah tu.”

Then, I was being stupid. As though I wasn’t following him that well. Obstinate. So I replied after that, “Okay ape?”

However, he didn't reply since then. Staying dumb. There’s no following answer I received. I was a little too carried away, I supposed.

Till the clock said 6:53 p.m. Quite unexpectedly, my mobile phone received a couple of messages. One sent by Florencia Alma asking after me. And the other one from the student himself! Wow, whenever the student texts me, I can’t stay composed to read his sms. Like somebody’s in love with a pretty woman or something. Haha!

In the very world, it’s just no more than a student-teacher friendship. Without further ado, I quickly pressed the VIEW button. So the mobile phone screen automatically showed me what his entire sms was about. Which went, “Selamat petang abang…haha.”

I know the addition ‘haha’ was intentionally typed in order to cover his awkward feeling to call me ‘abang’. Moreover, he’s been calling me ‘Cikgu’ all this while in that I am his school teacher. It must sound awkward for both of us.

I turned out to be so too flabbergasted since then. I froze like a non-living statue, really. Dumb. Speechless.

“Er…perlu balas tak?”

“Tapi…apa aku nak cakap?”

Indeed, Allah the All-knower. I couldn’t help feeling so freaking ashamed. At the meantime, so thrilled to bits. Couldn’t stop laughing. As if I was seeing such a hilarious comedy on telly. Such as ‘Pi Mai Pi Mai Tang Tu’. LOL.

After a pretty long wait, at last, by calling me ‘abang’, he obviously has accepted me as his ‘new’ big brother. Even so, the thing is, would this brotherhood certainly last forever? Whereas, in fact, with his very outstanding, excellent PMR exam result, he’ll surely be transferring to a new secondary school next year?

Things are getting worse as we both would be unable to spot one another as much often as ever. And the possibility for our meeting’s almost none! What an upsetting ending it’s gonna look like. It’s our destiny, apparently.

Ah, I ain’t in the mood of thinking about this yet. At least, not at this second! Seems it’s only making me a lot dizzier. Should pen off here. End of the story. Enough that I’ve just accepted this good news. Full-stop.

PMR 2012: A Complete Nightmare

Upset. Upset. Upset. As if I just missed the KTM commuter from Port Klang station to KL Sentral station. Waiting for the next train is like waiting for a month, terribly severe, like hell! Is it like breaking up with my sweetheart? I guess not.

It’s too late already. No point of regretting any more. Even if I wept for hours. The result will never change, ever! The imperfection of the most hoped PMR candidate’s result has caused the Senior Assistant of Administration, Cikgu Nana to be fucking unhappy. 

It has destroyed, ruined the school’s ‘aspiration’ to see a straight-A student this year. Let alone the subject is English. The subject whose teacher is me! It’s me! Can you hear that?

Oh Allah the Almighty. Like the whole world’s looking at me right now. Telling me off. Blaming me. Cursing at me.

“What the fuck have you done, Cikgu? What on earth did you teach your students? Did you ask them to fool around in class? Oh boy, I’m asking you to help teach them to score English, idiot!”

It’s proven! I failed to make their dream come true. Even if I wasn’t even the PMR candidate.

The obvious feeling of disappointment could be seen on my cute face as soon as I woke up from bed, pressing the UNLOCK button on my cell phone after identifying that there was an sms sent to me that morning. Shortly after that, I inserted the phone security code and then pressed the OK button.

I was so freaking overwhelmed by the feeling of eagerness. So much. Eager to find out who the sender was and what the entire content of the sms was all about. I whereupon pressed the VIEW button.

What’s shown on the phone screen was an sms sent by Cikgu Effie, a BM teacher. Which went, “Congrats. Harlister awak dapat 6A 1C.”

Harlister Iwan (First row, second from left, wearing a red blazer)

I who previously seemed half drowsy, immediately, fully awake! My eyes which looked pretty hard to open just now were widely open at present. Completely focused. Getting more enthusiastic. As if I just came across a beautiful angel from the Paradise. Wow! My eyes didn’t blink for about 10 seconds, you know.

My feeling? Between psyched and dejected. Dunno which one, exactly. I myself feel uncertain about my feeling at the moment. Strangely, a bit thrilled and couldn’t wait to spread the good news to the best student on my own. But, all of a sudden, the intention was to be called off.

“Entah-entah, dia dah tau kot. Tapi, kenapa tak sms kat aku pun?” I wondered, feeling slightly bewildered. “In your dreams. Apa? Penting sangat ke aku ni pada dia?” I condemned myself, sarcastically.

Yet…it sounds odd. The student practically texts me so often. Every single day! “Takkanlah berita baik macam tu tak nak maklum kat aku langsung kot?” I make some assumption, continuously. “Maybe, he wants me to inquire him myself,” I thought. Some people turn to be like that. Sometimes. I guess. Because one of these sort of people is me. Ahaks. Or maybe, he wants to make it a surprise. Eh?

The feeling of agog was yet undone, fancying finding it out in detail. I whereupon pressed the OPTION button, selected ‘Reply’, was typing “Apa C tu?” At the moment, that was such a simple question. Soalan cepumas. Just like ‘What’s our country’s name?’ Huhu. But even so, I got a little too obstinate, asking for the confirmation. A fact. Most importantly, I’ll get what I eagerly want! I behaved truly like a small kid. Ouch!

Before Cikgu Effie replied to the sms, I who felt damn impatient (though I know, patience is a part of faith), hastily pressed CALL button on the cell phone, making a call. Like making an emergency call or something. Hadn’t taken my bath yet… oops pecah rahsia! LOL.

Doing a sum, we both were on the phone for more than 5 minutes long. In sum, I’m so freaking ‘delighted like hell’ since, after all, I didn’t even eventually learn what grade C was. An enormous waste of credit, I sighed. L

But, at least, there’s another info I’ve known about. Even it sounded less significant to me. Actually, I’ve to say I’m really proud of the satisfactory achievement of BM paper. According to Cikgu Effie, BM evidently increased this year and all passed. That’s good. After all her hard work teaching extra classes at nights over the last week prior to the PMR, her effort was finally paid. Worth! Cikgu Effie, congratulations! You deserved it. What about a promotion? Heehee… J

Had I held so many extra classes as she did, you think, would my students also pass English with flying colours? I made a silly speculation. For sure, I’m not silly, anyway.

HOT news! HOT news! As hot news as Siti Nurhaliza tying the knot. I couldn’t yet calm myself down, though. The mysterious C. Is it true that the C is English? Since my heart strongly convinced me that I was right. “Mampus!” The unexpected word suddenly came out of my mouth. L

The name of the Senior Assistant 1 crossed my mind by coincidence. Without further ado, I searched her number, tried to drop her a line. The intention of saving my phone credit was to be forgotten for the time being. Don’t be so mean, people.

Meantime, I must keep myself noted. Although it’s merely for my student’s PMR exam result. Not even mine! I sat the PMR in the last 10 years. No way. I’m getting old now.

You’d the smartest one to predict what I procured after making her a call and guess what? Um….very unexpectedly, she herself had no idea what the bloody C was. Sigh. My phone credit. L

Things sounded even worse when she too suspected that the C had to be English. And, once again, “Mampus! I’m dead!” I couldn’t help blaming myself. By listening to her expression, she was freaking dejected. With me?

Erm…she felt dissatisfied, visibly. Just because her ‘aspiration’ to see a straight A student, at least one, has met a failure. She must be freaking upset. I can tell.

What about me? The result let me down too, you know. I failed. I failed. How depressing!

“Could be I’d been taking my teaching for granted. And THIS is the price I gotta pay back! The quality of my next year’s teaching is to be improved. Learn from the past mistake. Promise that I shan’t let it happen again. Once bitten, twice shy,” I’m reflecting myself. Earnestly. Obviously, I regretted.

Hmm…let bygones be bygones. I’ll put much effort in order to ensure such things won’t ever happen any more. I’ll help the smart student out even though he’ll be transferring to another school. I’ll consistently keep him motivated so he’ll never give up in studies. He surely can. Besides, he’s not a loser. Like who I am. I know.

I wish him ‘break a leg’ on the SPM. But then…um, never mind.