On The Road

A long trip by road often bring back that one particular memory. Some hours later, after I wrote this, after I woke up from sleep, I'll be on the road heading to Kuching. Nena urged me to go, and not to go at the same time. She is probably confused, but one thing she sure of (she told me this), is that she love me dearly. Yes, I do too.

Ah the memory. I was in the two door-hatchback car with Jeffrey (read earlier post if you don't know who this guy is) and my Mum. I believe we were going to the capital (Bandar Seri Begawan) from Seria in Brunei. As a kid, it was a long ride. It sure feel like one. I slept in the back of the car after counting the lamp post and got dizzy from it.

I can feel the car braking. No, make it like FEEL. I actually fell from the back seat to the floor. It was suddenly noisy. Mum and Jeffrey was arguing. He pulled my Mum's hair and slapped her. Countless of times. I put my hand between them, trying to stop the fight, but I was thrown to the back seat with ease. I was dizzy again.

Jeffrey then got out of the car, surging to the passenger's door, where my Mum is. He opened it, grab my Mum by the arm and and pulled her out. My mum was on the ground, crying. Jeffrey got back in the car, and start driving. By the time the car moved, I cried. I was watching my Mum behind us, chasing the car. Then Jeffrey stopped again.

This time he hold me under my armpit, opened the passenger's door and threw me out. By the time the car moved again, my Mum is with me. Hugging me. I stopped my crying. But my eyes were still following the car moving. Something I need is in the car. Then I saw it got thrown outside. My favourite pillow, with the 3 octopus-like tentacles on either sides, are on the road. I got up and ran for it.

I walk up slowly towards my Mum. She is still crying. Sobbing actually. I know what she is worried of. How do we go from there. I know she doesn't have the money for cab. I can see the beach from the road. Surely it's not that far from home, in Seria.

I don't speak. I just hold her hands and start walking, my pillow on my other hand. I think I got a blister on my left feet, but I don't show it. Mum stopped, and that moment I knew what she was going to do. She carried me on her back. At least I was light enough. After some distance, "Mum, put me down."

I knew she was tired. I don't want to become a burden to her. So we walked again. No car stopping to give us a ride. I understand. We probably looked like some dangerous pair, swindler or con artist. Then I see some familiar landmark. The cemetery. Not far from the house we lived in. My energy came back. I'm holding my Mum's hand tighter, knowing we can make this.

Home. With no Jeffrey around, yes, this is home. I took a peek at my feet, and washed it. I laid down on the bed, hugging my pillow. My Mum followed soon after. It was still a hot afternoon, and we slept till the next sunrise. I was probably 5 years old.

I love my pillow

Sometimes I woke up in the middle of the night and there are still no one sleeping with me. My girlfriend said she want me to be there for her when she sleep, like every night. But of course I cannot do that.Well then I remember something about waking up in the middle of the night.

I have been sleeping alone since I move in to be taken care by my aunt, who is my Dad's eldest sister. It is not a big room, and my clothes are not actually that much. The cupboard for my clothes is actually too large, so I keep my books in there too. A single bed, my empty travel bag below the bed and nothing more. And of course a standing fan. The room is facing the veranda, as many Melanau's traditional house has a veranda and my room have 3 windows facing it.

I remember this one night I woke up, it was around 2 a.m. I was hugging my favourite small pillow, it is smelly with my body odour, but I love it because my Mum made it for me. It was total silence that night. The occasional sound of frogs and crickets break the silence, like a melody. I'm not sure what made me woke up.

I was probably dreaming, but I could not remember my dream. Then I thought about the last time I slept with my Mum. It was school holiday, some months ago. There will be a time when I no longer can sleep with her like that. And each time I went back to Mukah, I am growing older.

I opened the front door, went outside to the veranda, sitting on the wooden floor, looking at the big moon. Bright, because there is no light pollution in Mukah. I was thinking about counting my days until the school holiday, when I will go back to Brunei, to meet with my parents. But then I decide not to. Better for me to have less thing to think about. I let go a heavy sigh and walk back to my room.

I miss my Mum. Or perhaps hugging her. Or someone to hug me. But I am hugging my favourite smelly pillow. Well, better than nothing. I was 8 years old.