My 'little' girl no more
Five
months ago I posted my Part 23 of this series, my favourite series where I
sketch out briefly the passage travelled by a selected number of those who
studied at Almanar. Their ability to free themselves from the life of hardship,
through education, has been the source of my inspiration to move on against
some very frustrating moments. Writing
about these children, how once they were, gives me a chance to reminisce with
satisfaction, and convince my aged self that money does not buy what love and
caring can.
A
week ago the ‘little’ girl showed up. Sweet ‘little’ girl she still is as she
was when she joined Almanar tuition class nearly 20 years ago. She belongs to
that very first group of twelve Form One children. “Little’ she may still be
but Nadirah has a man and two children of her own.
My 'little' girl no more
Nadirah’s
family house is about six kilometers from us. I remember those days when
together with half a dozen friends living around the same area cycled, rain or
shine, all the way to Almanar after school, and during holidays. Those were the
days when Almanar helped to provide bicycles to children in need. It is
mystifying why, today, children are reluctant to come even with free school bus
service provided. But I sympathise with them. The new 2013 Malaysian Education
Development Plan (or is it the Blueprint?) has succeeded in holding them back
at school, attending extra classes, co-curricular activities; some reaching
home at three, exhausted. In those years we were able to start afternoon
classes as early as 2.30.
Pak
Ghani, Nadirah’s father, was a vegetable seller at a market Makcik and Pakcik
regularly frequented. He practically had a small area reserved, where he laid a
sheet of canvas to display what he had to sell. As he insisted on giving us
things for free or at below-cost price in return for helping his daughter, I
had to make a special effort to skirt away from his post. I remember an
occasion when he caught sight of me walking in a distance. Knowing that I would
not visit his site, he rushed to pack in a large plastic beg a items he expected us
to need, and ran after me. I had to accept it. It was his pleasure. That was
Pak Ghani. About ten years ago he fell ill and had to stop selling vegetables.
Whenever he was well he would follow his friends going out fishing. It was a
sad day when the good Pak Ghani passed away (yarhamuhullah). On the day of the
funeral I looked at the old wooden house and wished that his big family would
go through life with success. On this point I am happy to note that nine of his
ELEVEN children, (two of whom died young) are doing well. There is a university
lecturer in the family. Out of curiosity the two of us drove to the old Pak
Ghani’s house a week ago. The moment Nadirah’s mother opened the door and saw me she carved
a broad smile of instant recognition, exclaiming, Oh,Pakcik, lama tak jumpa!
Mana Makcik?( Pakcik, I’ve not seen you so long! Where’s Makcik). She rushed
down the wooden steps to meet Makcik in our car.
_____________________________
Nadirah
did very well at school and was selected for a one-year programme in
preparation for medical course overseas. It was most unfortunate for her that
the downturn in the economy of the country resulted in disbanding of the
special scheme for the talented. I remember it too well how bitter I felt for
her and her friends. Her dream to be a doctor was shattered; but life had to go
on. She turned her interest to the field of education. Four years later I had
every reason to marvel at my special little girl. She earned herself the rare distinction of a first-class
honours degree from the University of Canterbury in primary science education.
Since
the start of her teaching career she has been posted to work right in the
middle of Pahang jungle. One hears of the well known Lake Bera (Tasek Bera)
and, not far from there, she is a teacher at a school of about 200 Semelai
(orang asli) children of mixed religions. She is proud to be teaching Bahasa
Melayu, English and Science. She is looking forwards to be teaching Mathematics as
well, making her a rare teacher doing all the core subjects. I could sense her
eagerness to be doing something for the poor children of the aborigines. Every
week she spends time teaching English to some parents of her pupils, hoping these parents would help to motivate their children.
Nadirah
and family have gone through the tunnel. It is sad to realise the one person
who worked his life, as vegetable seller-cum-fisherman to support them all, is
not here to enjoy the fruit of his labour.
(AlFatihah for him)
I
have promised Nadirah that the two of us will be visiting her one day. I wonder
if Tasek Bera has its own ‘Loch Ness’ monster of the Scottish Highlands.
Perhaps that mysterious lake is shaded by magic weeping willow trees under
which we could take a shower to rejuvenate ourselves! Then, we may even think
of an off-campus Almanar by Tasek Bera!
Berkhidmat
kerana Tuhan untuk kemanusiaan
