I don't remember exactly when she came into our lives. I remember Ayah buying a single bed, a chest of drawers, a full length mirror, a fan, a transistor radio, a small side table and a clothes hanger for that little downstairs room in our little terrace house back then. After a quick salam and perfunctory introductions, it was bedtime for me, rejoicing the fact that I didn't have to do as much housework now that we got someone to do it for us.
I woke up the next day and found a huge spread of kampung breakfast, so different from our usual bread and cereal blearghhs. And the house was operating like a factory with so much activity, whirring of the washing machine, that lovely scratchy, brushing sound of someone washing the bathroom and the permeating ambrosial smell of detergents. And oooh, even before I knew how to mop the floor properly back then, the terrazzo felt and smelt so clean, I could eat off of it. Let's not get too excited, I thought. Let's go figure that woman out before I jump to conclusions.
Turned out, this tall, fair-skinned, "curvilicious" lady is quite a character. Her husband had left her, MIA, in communicado and she had to work to support her 4 boys. She was accustomed to a comfortable life before her stroke of misfortune, fate has it that she had a role to play in our lives. She was meant to be that nurturing mother and father to all the five of us, while Mak and Ayah bend their backs to keep us alive.
I would like to share with you the things I remember about her, Puan Halus binte Jais, otherwise known as Makcik Rose, of Kampung Olak Lempit, Hulu Langat. Not far from Teluk Panglima Garang.
She usually finished all the main chores around 11 o'clock and that's when she would lay down and rest while listening to "No 5, Persiaran Satu" on the radio, I forget the title of that family radio drama. By 2 o'clock she would fold the laundry, and that's when we'd have our regular chats. There were stories about her colorful life as a Tukang Jual Obat's wife, touring throughout the country, following her notoriously philandering husband. Of days when she was poker-buddies with a certain P.Ramlee and Saloma. Of fresh fish on her doorstep when there was a big flood in Kuala Sungai Muda, Kedah. Of Tiger shows in Thailand. Of Lorong Haji Taib days, where her husband sold obat, while she looked out a certain Rumah Tumpangan and somebody thought she was offering business. She was heavily pregnant then, but the guy could not see that fact from downstairs. It was amazing how cheap it was back then, she was offered RM10 for a lil sum'in sum'in. She got scared and shut her windows and never to open them unless her husband was around.
I also remember her thundering voice calling my name from downstairs, to jemur baju in her standard French.
'Hoi, apa kau buat kat atas tu hah? Kau ingat aku ni kuli ke ha?
M*ng***k**g, mengg****l b**i ****nt** je kau ye? Turun, jemur kain!!"
I remember getting a good lecture (read:scolding) about masak lemak, when I did not stir it properly, it curdled. She also taught me many many more Malay dishes and inculcated this passion for food and the kitchen.
I remember being chased around the dining table with a broomstick for menjawab cakap orang tua. I also remember getting into trouble with my parents because I could not hide anything from Makcik Rose, the spy. She always found my cinta monyet love notes no matter how meticulously I hid my stash, she would be the one who would yell at the boys who called the house and kantoi me for all my mischief. I used to call her a "busybody", and apparently she checked the meaning of that word, and I got a mighty good one after that.
But she had never stopped me from being a kid. She let me play soccer with the boys, although Ayah has another opinion about that. She let me have my Barbie bashing parties, I wasn't very girly then. There were seriously dismembered casualties. Luckily they were rubber. She would be the one frantically knocking on Ayah's bedroom door when I was getting a good spanking. She would be the one who would watch and listen to me play the piano( when I am upset, I'd hammer my teenage angst away on the piano). She would be the one psyching me up, rationalizing for me, and never failed to remind me how much she loved me and my adik-adik.
She even brought us back to her kampung many, many times. I remember the rickety buses we took to get there, the rows after rows of pineapples, and kelapa sawit. I remember her big wooden house, with so many people in it, atok to cucu. I remember picking and eating biji kundang skins and all, fresh mangoes in santan and nasi ambang. Most importantly, I remember a wonderful family. I remember teaching her nieces songs from the city. They especially liked "Manic Monday" by The Bangles. And the boys hiding under the stilted dangau in the pineapple farm trying to sneak a peek under our skirts. They got into serious trouble after that.
I remember how Ayah and Mak helped her claim taklik and her hot, hot romance with this lawyer from Biro Bantuan Guaman. I remember her sweet voice singing Pop Yeh Yeh tunes. I remember the way she danced to Hindi songs, I remember the evening strolls. Oh, I remember a lot of things about my Makcik Rose, her sweet smell, her crisp kain batik, I remember the smoothness of her fingers when she suap-ed me my ultimate favourite, nasi kicap and ikan goreng. I remember her coiffured hair and her immaculate sense of style. I remember a very elegant lady who is not supposed to be a domestic helper.
She called me a few months before I got engaged. She told me that she's been sickly. Working in a kayu factory did not help. We had a tearful conversation. I learnt that she reconciled with her tukang jual obat husband, and he passed on shortly after. I learnt that all her boys have jobs now. And that she has grown very very old and tired. She had left me a number to keep in touch, but the last time I called, the number was no longer in service.
Makcik Rose, I have you to thank for the things I know today, and I will keep praying that life would be easier for you before your time is up. You have touched our lives in the magnitude that it is humanly impossible to return your generosity and kindness. From the bottom of my heart, thank you and I love you so much, wherever you are.
This entry is inspired by Dede's story at Anedra's
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