The Extraordinary Tale of Eight Teens and the Mad Lady

Heeding the special request (or demand, as she puts it)by a friend(Pui Kheun) and the express recommendation of another (Christopher), I would like to recount the extraordinary tale of our encounter with a mentally unsound lady and the comical consequences that follow.

It all began on a cool Tuesday morning, at about 5.45 am, in the old town section of Kuala Terengganu. As the hour was too early for any productive activity to be carried out (except pacing up and down the road if you fancy that), we decided to settle ourselves in a rather run-down bus stop while waiting for the jetty gate to open. Being an individual (more like a monkey) of inquisitive nature, I decided to approach the jetty gate to see whether the jetty guard would allow us in earlier. Instead, I stumbled upon a haggard-looking woman with an extraordinarily large stomach who was avidly "searching" for some "treasure" in a nearby dustbin.

Trusting my instinct that the person may not have a sane mind, I gave a thought about turning back. Just as I was about to do so, the lady turned around, waddled towards me and raised one of her hands in my direction. In the hand was a crumpled up plastic with presumably some mouldy substance, the details of which I could not perceive further given the dim light of the surrounding area. With a booming but clear voice, she said,"Take this! Ambil ini!" I bolted off to the bus stop where the bulk of us were waiting.

Having elaborated on the account of my encounter to the rest of us, I realised that all along, she was following me. At first, we saw a small figure but as time went by, it became bigger and clearer to form the physique of the same mad lady. She was ten metres away, then eight, six , four, two, and finally, ground zero. Somehow, as though some primordial instinct had taken over us, we froze like statues as she approached us. She went around us and through the gaps between us. She looked at our face and bent down to "scold" a cat which had coincidentally sleeping near us. At times, she would walk away but like a spring attached to a hinge, she would faithfully (faithfully i tell you!) come back. She opened her mouth and declared (with some beeping music as a pretext): Ding, Ding Deng Dong, sekarang sudah pukul sembilan. It is now nine o'clock. The intonation was so unaccented compared to that of a typical Malay that I swear she'd be a telecast reporter if she hasn't gone haywire in the inside!

Biding our time and waiting for her to get far enough from us, we made our escape. Clutching our bags and heaving heavily, we ran away from her as a prisoner would from Azkaban. We stopped in front of the jetty gate, screaming, yelling and begging for the gate to open but we were not answered. To our back, the "faithful" lady was in hot pursuit of us. Already buckling under the heavy luggage in our hands (poor Lizzie with his big suitcase bag), we paced away quickly to the direction of a row of shophouses ahead of us. There was a bend in the road and we turned in, hoping to evade the lady. I remembered that both Shean and Sam were so freaked out that they would scream if the lady were to put her hands on them.

It happened that a small food stall was conveniently located near the bend. Time for breakfast (and the "faithful" lady was not invited), we desperately agreed. Having settled at one long table, we realised that there was still one vacant chair so we took it away so that the "faithful" lady would not take her seat among us to "grace" our breakfast. I must say that that lady was one hell of a stubborn hound for she somehow sniffed our scent and make her way to the stall, only to sit one table away.

Breakfast was a terrible ordeal, I tell you. Every scoop of nasi lemak tasted bland, as though the rice beads themselves were making ridicule of my frightened state. The lady ordered nasi lemak and what was allegedly known to her as "kopi super power zam zam a la ka zam". After she finished whatever morsel was on her plate, she tooked out twenty dollars and boomed,"Ambil wang ini! Saya belanja semua!"Billy turned around in surprise but the shop lady shooked her head in disapproval. Thereafter, the "faithful" lady was gone like the aether wind of autumn.

Making over way back to the jetty gate, we finally understood why it was closed initially. They wanted to keep the lady out of the jetty. If she were to get herself onto Redang, that's gonna be a "bye-bye" to the tourism industry that has been cashing in money to the local population. Too bad she'll never get to see Redang. Zachary, there is one other thing in map that isn't told: mad wandering people (Maybe you should invent a technology to pinpoint these people on Google Earth. It'll be a hell of a profit to make).

Anyway, my account ends here. Two lessons are to be garnered. Firstly, a journey is always packed with surprises. Secondly, mad lady can prompt you to have breakfast. The end.

Nostalgia

What do you get when you mix a village boy who has lost contact with his rural legacy for two years and a serene, peaceful tropical island setting? I finally got to know the answer when my friends and I embarked on a holiday escapade to Pulau Redang, a small island surrounded by fringing coral and separated from the Peninsular Malaysia mainland my a long stretch of deep blue sea.

To boy whose first 17 years of life was spent in a beachside village that has none of the towering skycraper, sprawling shopping malls and ornate architecture to boast, the visit was absolutely nostalgic. Threading on the fine, sun-bleached coral sand of Pasir Panjang beach reminded me of the a 10-year-old Ryan who used to chase ghost crabs on the sandy beach in his front of his house. When I immersed my whole body in the crystal clear water of the Shark Bay, the first thing that popped up in the my mind was me piggy-backing my uncle while we floated in the sea that flanked one side of my village.

A child-psychological analyst would point out that my anecdote lacks a crucial factor - other children to play with. Yup, I rarely had the opportunity to play or hang out with other kids save in school. When I got back home from the half day worth of dozing off in classroom and shouting at other kids during recess, I was left with only one playmate - Nature. Somehow, I have been unnaturally bold to do all sorts of funny things like falling off the balcony. During free flight, I thought I was a cat and would land on all four without any trace of injury. I was wrong but it didn't matter. The less painful, more rewarding activities that I had engaged in were to keep pet, grow vegetables,build sandcastle and collect seashells at the beach. All these were done alone under the benevolent auspice of Mother Nature. Hence, it is no wonder to see me doing this when I got to Redang:

Mother Nature is very much a teacher to me as those who have taught in school. Any close encounter with Nature has never been boring for she has many things to show and tell. Building the dam, as shown in the previous photo, is a nostalgic moment of me returning to my alma mater, practicing what I could not have done in Singapore.

Two years in Singapore studying A-Level had changed me, but not to the extent that I have lost contact with my past. The natural instincts that has been honed through many trials and errors i.e. doing wacky things and getting injured had not failed me. When I decided to strip off the safety jacket and dove down into a 10-metre deep sea water of Redang, I was unafraid for I knew Mother Nature was there to look out for me. Another four years of study in Singapore awaits me but I have a feeling that these four years would not do much to change me into a city person. The attachment with nature is omnipresent, unhindered by forces of any sort.

Ultimately, the trip to Redang Island was a journey of rediscovery. I am happy that my identity i.e. my behaviour, demeanour and attitude has not been compromised during the two years of city life. The "sixth" sense perceives strongly and keenly. To best capture this meaning, I have no other words to offer but a plagiarised section of shean's post:

"i was always impressed by ryan's incredible familiarity and passion for the nature"

I Have Stepped Into A New World, And Out Of It.

With the string of lamentations over leaving McNair v 2.0 buzzing among some of our blogs, I can’t help but hop into the bandwagon. True, my stay cannot rival that of billy’s or most of the permanent residents and there will be no pictures to embellish the paragraphs of words that follows – both of which may suggest that this post is shallow and boring. So, don’t read it…don’t read it.

Ah, why am I doing myself such “favour” – engaging in a voluntary, self initiated instance of self-denial? Anyway, there are much that have been garnered over the relatively brief stay that I have in McNair v 2.0. Firstly, that nothing in this world is for sure makes life all the more exciting.

Having read the previous line, a layman would be clueless about what I have said. It is this: there is always an interesting, unpredictable twist in life that can take you on an experience of paradigm-shifting proportion. Take this example: I took a brief five minutes on deciding to forsake my unremarkable life of decomposing at home as a post-A-Level activity and to find a job in Singapore. It is a decision that has swept me off my feet, carrying me to a house for which I have to pay rent, a place where I have to look for a job, and new groups of people whom I have to work with. These first-time experiences are definitely what I have not envisioned at the point of making that decision.

A situation of volatility has evolved out of a decision to get away from a relatively dormant life since I not only have to support my own living expense, but also to form a good rapport with a workmates instead of schoolmates. No longer am I cradled safely in school life for I have chosen to indulge in a radically new sphere of environment: the career world. You see the big leap?

Obviously the “big leap” was more gravely anticipated that it really was. I had a (bad) hunch that it is gonna be tough and I have to work my ass off in a torturous environment of constant bullying and reprimanding just to make both ends meet. However, it turned out to be more symphatetic. Workmates at the Japanese restaurant, where I worked as a part-time waiter, were nice, genuine and cooperative enough to pull me out of a quagmire whenever I get into one.

School was always compassionate to me, whether I wear a student uniform or a teacher’s attire, since my colleagues were always out there to clarify my doubts over difficult Chemistry questions, encouraged my feeble heart to take charge of several boisterous classes and gave me a smile as and when needed. Money was good to earn and accumulate (since I did not spend much until the onset of GSS and the shopping fever.) In sum, working and living independently were much more satisfying than grueling.

Also, I have learnt that money is not everything but it is most of the things. I, however, am not alluding to any sort of avarice on my part or that of the permanent residents. It is more along the line of money being the test of integrity. Berate me for being so unforgiving but I find it difficult to pardon the act of leaving friends in financial difficulty at the spur of the moment. In a country whereby honest money is generously given as long as the will to work exists, it strikes me odd for one to quote money shortage as an excuse to forsake an oath of staying together, for the purpose of keeping the house rent affordable, that is sealed by the word of friendship.

The matter had been settled but I suppose it came about two months late, two months of living everyday with the frustration of friendship betrayal. At this juncture, I apologize for the cryptic manner of writing but nothing else is clearer when this is combined with the pre-existing knowledge in the minds of the permanent residents. Then again, there is another unsettled score over a certain deposit which can only be retrieved in the presence of some individual of Indonesian nationality.

Last but not least, I’ve finally felt how it is like to live in a different sort of family, one which is composed of individuals which are non-related by blood. Undeniably, there are always profuse complaints about one another and occasional emotional flares between members of the house. These, however, are not signs of a deteriorating social relationships but portrays a deeper mutual understanding amongst the permanent residents of the house.

We have learnt to tolerate and put our trust on each other in the belief that there will not be betrayal of any sort, except that which has been aforementioned. We have learnt to tap on each other strengths and compensate for the individual weaknesses. A long day of hard work is not a reason to go home and throw ridiculously childish tantrums in front the other housemates. When one has an intractable problem, the others will offer their helping hands. We have developed a deep respect of each other’s privacy, taking care not to use each other’s things unless permission is granted. With all these combined, there is no other word more apt to describe us but a family, a family formed out of volition rather than DNAs.

I guess the verbosity of my writings can but capture a miniscule part of the collective experiences of staying at McNair v 2.0. The place may have switched tenant-ship but the memories of that particular niche indefinite. To Billy, Chia Wei, Lizzie, Mui Hwee, Mun Hon, Shean and Xin Lin, you have turned the two-and-a-half month stay at McNair v 2.0 a life adventure unparalleled by any which I have experienced before. Love you!