of 'pre-occupations'

This was what I originally posted on Monyet King's wall as a comment on his PTPTN update.
I had never had any second thoughts about the jobs I ever had. These experiences, like all experiences just lingered at the back of my mind.

I never really thought about them.
I even thought I had it easy.

Having put it down on paper, I feared that I might have glorified my life experiences with the jobs I had before I started with my current one, I asked my most trusted chronicler, my dear, dear younger sister, W.

 I asked her on iMessage,
"Do you remember how it was, growing up?"
I attached the comment I posted in the message and asked her another question.
"Was it something like this... Or was I just dreaming it up?"

Her answer, as always, was the simplest few words she could muster to appease her ADHD-ridden sister;
"You didn't dream it up."

So, with that, I will share with you, the jobs I have ever had in all its grammatical and spelling error glory:

First job...
Helping my dad mix concrete.
Susun brick.
Make mortar for the brick.
Bring the mixed concrete loaded into yellow pails from the mixing place to the acuan tiang concrete, pass it up to him so he can pour it down the top.
Brick laying, dad tak kasi buat cuz he was very particular about having laid down straight.
I mixed plaster as well.
1:2:3 ratio... But what is what... X remember.

Painted the window panes. I almost fell through the roof when the old asbestos porch roof broke away under my weight as I was painting the panes. I held on to my dear life onto the newly installed window pane. My asthmatic mother, for the first time in years ran up the stairs to pull me back into the room, as my neighbor laughed at pants split down crotch all the way to the back, cuz I had one leg hooked onto the window pane. I was trying to hoist myself back into the bedroom through the window when I heard the third crack before the roof fell away from underneath me, leaving me dangling there with both arms and a leg holding on to the pane while other leg was dangling in the air underneath me.

Thank God the mortar securing it to the wall had dried through or it might have fallen along with me onto the porch below.

Dad ended up having to install new asbestos roof, replace the broken trusses, and install new ceiling.
I did pretty much anything and everything to help dad build our house extension, with the 12k my mom got for her grade duty upon her retirement.

Dad was a jack of all trades. To optimize the money, we decided not to hire anyone. Just me, my little sister and my older brother when he come home from work.
We built 2 additional bedrooms, 1 bath, 1 toilet, 1 small corner for the stove.
I don't remember how much my dad paid me, but the wage included the full-length mirror I had been wanting for my room.

Second job,
Mini market staff.
Then promoted to cashier.
Don't remember the pay either.

Third job,
Baby sitter.... 4 kids.
Came home in between classes to bathe, feed and play with them.
One of them comes at 5am.
Sometimes stayed 2 to 3 days with us.
She considered me her mommy.
She is now in form 4 and still come to visit during school holidays.
They were supposed to be under my mom's care, but i think mom have had enough with toddlers. But these desperate parents left their wee babies with us anyway. So to make things easier for my mom, i did all the job.
Paid with nothing but the love and joy I got from taking care of them.

Fourth and fifth jobs went simultaneously during the long semester break;
Pagi, go to teach kindergarten (lied to the headmistress about bad SPM grades to get the job)
Petang to malam go to work at a speaker component manufacturing plant in Bangi.
Don't remember the pay.
But factory worker, where got payment like execs.

6th job....
Sony Video Bangi.
Stood up all day, slept with pillow elevating my feet cuz knees hurt from standing from morning till time we get off work, as operator pengeluaran.
Forced to do OT whether I like it or not.

Somewhere in between i was also the sambal tumis cook for my mom's nasi lemak. Would cook a whole fresh batch every week day in a huge kawah. Would cook it the night before as i have class in the mornings so waking up so early in the morning jual to make the sambal would mean I will sleep during classes. Ibu will just have to heat it through in the morning. She jual the nasi lemak after she retired just for fun.
Paid with nasi lemak.

7th job...
Teacher, wrangler, motivational speaker, counsellor, nurse, torture officer, surrogate mother, tukang maki, tukang nasihat, tukang motivate parents, tukang motivate budak, jail warden, judge, jury and executioner at current school.
Paid more than I can ever dream of.

The first six jobs, all while i was doing my bachelor's degree at UPM.
Stayed at home cuz it's 5 minutes to class from my parents' place.
Dad's passed on in 2004.
I graduated in 1999.

I didn't actually need the money, as I got a full JPN scholarship.
The one extravagant spending I did was on a computer for assignments.
The only internet thing I was crazy about was mirc.
No cellphone. Started owning n using one at 27 cuz where i was posted in the rurals of Sarawak, there was no point owning one as there was no coverage where i was.

I used some of my scholarship to buy fish, meat, chicken and other dry grocery to fill up my parents' pantry. They never asked me to do any such thing, but i did it gladly.
The money i got from the first 6 jobs was to help cover home expenses while waiting for the next semester's scholarship.
They never asked. I wanted to do it.

I x go shopping because i x know how.
Curfew at my parents' place for us kids was at 6pm.
Even now, as old as I am, visiting mom, I x feel the need to stay out so late.
My life was home-class-home-class-home-theatre rehearsals-home and the odd silat sessions i quit after a few confusing lessons.
No lepaking outside with coursemates.
Mom and dad would never stop me if i asked.
But home was heaven to me, that cramped PKNS house mom got for RM18k.
And of course, i had those toddlers waiting for their obligatory motorbike ride around the housing area before moms and dads came to pick them up.
I pretty much had my hands full.

I don't ever feel like I lost out on my youth.

I am grateful I managed to help my mom n dad eversince I entered uni.
Not being a burden to anyone was my goal and i did the best i could until today.

Lessons i learned?
Experience is a good teacher.
A lot of things in life, we x learn in classrooms.
If i can do it all over again, i would maybe next time around i will include opening a burger bakar stall. Hahaha.

of intrusions and tresspasses

Before my memory leaves me, I should jot this down.

There had been signs that would have been obvious to other people, but I just brushed them off thinking that it cannot possibly be true. I always thought they were just him being nice because he had been working for the husband for two years now and he even does the house chores when they return from work in the early evenings. According to him, this is what he has been doing, growing up; helping his mom with  the house chores. 

He does a nice job and seem to enjoy doing it because he does them consistently throughout. 

The Hugs

I abhor them. Especially when it is accompanied by a swift kiss on one cheek. 

He had been told more that twice and even got a swift scolding from me on a particularly bad day, that he should watch it and do not attempt to make any more of that kind of gesture towards me. I told the husband once, but he must have thought that it was one of those usual friendly hugs. He didn't say much about it so I never brought it up again. 

I did explain that this is not his country and that being a married but most of all, Muslim woman, there is a very obvious barrier between us and men of all races, other than the ones from our family. 

But still, whenever he comes over for the weekly cleaning up of the house, he will always exclaim "I miss you, ma'am!" and gingerly give me a big bear hug and a kiss on the cheek which I would dread and try very hard not to wipe off my face in front of him. Then I will run upstairs to my room and hide the rest of the day. Like I never said anything about it. Like the telling off I did twice before was not enough. 

I had no qualms about his weekly visits to the house for cleaning and tidying up, until recently. 

I always held my arms up in front of me to keep my fronts touching his and to keep barrier while the hugs happened. The least I could have done in my discomfort not to seem rude to an older person who had been kind to us all, all the years we have known him. 

But that one hug that made me even more uncomfortable was when one day the kiss almost, ALMOST touched my lips. As always I would turn my face away from him, sometimes holding my head in my hands on particularly horrible (my mood swings) days. I did my best to avoid that kiss and it seemed that he didn't try to make any other attempt at kissing me, so I thought it must have been an accident. 

Naive you say? Or plain stupid? 

Passing judgment is fun. I know. I do it all the time. You should keep on doing too, cuz it will make you feel that you are indeed BETTER than the rest of the world population.

Will we ever learn that any situation is best described when we go through it ourselves?

I guess passing judgment is much more fun than anything else. Carry on. 

Overnight Stays

He doesn't live with me. He is supposed to be at the house once or twice a week for the weekly cleaning and tidying. Some washing of the kitchen floor mats, sweeping, mopping and such. I never let him do my laundry. 

And he is not supposed to stay at the house. 

I told him he should not be there when the husband is away and that he should not come too often. I used to drive him back to his place when he is done. But there are also days when I thought oh let him sleep here one night, because I was too damned lazy get up and get dressed and leave the house. That happened once or twice, but he never bothered me with anything later in the evening and everything was calm and quiet till the next morning when I will quickly exit the house and go to work, minimizing any kind of possible contact with him. I have always done my best to minimize contact with him. I have a phobia of men. A mild one. Thanks to my late father's friend of making me feel very uncomfortable by teasing me so much when I was a wee little girl of 3 or 4. Nothing dirty. Stop your nonsense. 

Why did he eventually stayed at the house....?

The husband said he will eventually return home and he will be needing (I'll name him J for the sake of naming him) J's help with the construction work. Thinking that the husband will be home next week or the next or the next... and J having finished his work building a house in a village by the coast, maybe he decided that why move his work things all over when he can keep them safely in one place at my house and also keep an eye on the house when I am away. 

That lasted 2 or 3 weeks before I left for a work trip to Mukah. I was hoping against hope that the husband will eventually return and reclaim his place in this house. Earlier on, I did tell J how shitty things are between the husband and I. It was just a crazy rant which should have just gone over his shoulders and forgotten about. I have since moved on and left everything in the hands of God. But I think it got stuck in his mind and he must have thought that I am truly suffering in my relationship. The husband's prolonged willful absence just confirms that the husband had indeed abandoned me to the wolves. 

All that marital crap that most people don't go through, is supposed to be a test and handled intelligently. His absence never once made me feel like that that would be the perfect opportunity for me to stray. When I was younger, it might have been a fun idea, but not as I am approaching 40 in the next 2 or 3 years. No... jumping into bed with different men while being married to another is and never will be my idea of fun. 

It is plain disgusting. 

I am guessing what started out as pity and sympathy had evolved into something monstrous over the months in his mind. Everything stayed perfectly the same in my mind. He was an employee. I am the employer's wife. And he is supposed to be there once a week to see that everything in the house is in order.  

Once on a weekend, as I was cooking something for a late breakfast before I ran back upstairs into my hiding place, he quipped "You love him so much but he doesn't love you at all," referring to the husband. A sane woman would have gone off the handle. I would have too if it was not because of the respect I have been having for him as he was an elder. In retrospect, it was quite bold and ruthlessly rude of him commenting on the husband in that way. But I reprimanded myself quietly for foolishly telling him how my marital problems are consuming me mentally once. That is one of the other reasons why I limit my contact with J whenever he is at the house. I saw that he was in his little ways becoming bolder. That was crossing the line between employer/employee.

The Incident

I had to leave for a 5-day trip to Mukah. I could have taken the bus like the rest of the team. I was supposed to chaperone the netball team there. But since there is another teacher coming along for the trip, I thought I would just drive myself. She can stay with the kids on the bus. Selfish of me, but I need my space and be in control of the noises and smells I hear and smell throughout the hours and hours of driving. I might have been able to cope better when I was younger. But at 37, with huge personal shit, and a seasoned disciplinarian, I do not want to be with a busload of rowdy male and female teenagers high on hormones for hours and hours on a cramped rickety old bus. I have had that experience before and I do not miss it. 

So I drove with the two buses and 3 vans. I loved every second of the 16-hour drive to get there and the 2-day drive returning from it. 

Upon reaching town, I sms'ed J asking where the house keys are. He answered with a terse "At the house across,". Nothing weird there. I prefer my communication with my workers to be short and to the point. Drove home, got the keys from the house across and entered the house. It was lovely coming to an empty house after a long and tiring trip like that. I just loved that I had the house all to myself. 

I uncharacteristically unloaded my car of all my crap and put away everything. I even pulled out the rubber inserts from the floor of the driver's side and gave it a few thumps on the porch floor to get the sand and dust off of it and reinserted it into the car. 

And then I went to my room, unpacked, loaded the washing machine and went back up to my room to shower, pray and rest a little while catching up with friends on Facebook. Then J sms'ed informing me that he's away in Brunei having his passport stamped and he will return home shortly. 

I wondered why on earth would he want to tell me where he is and what he is doing when he should no be at the house when I am around. I dreaded the fact that he will be around when I am all tired and was in no mood more any human interaction. 

Half an hour after that, I heard him hollering from downstairs like he always does when he comes by, telling me he is in the house. I didn't even make a sound. Honestly, I was quite irritated by the fact that he is there when he shouldn't be and that he cleaned my whole bedroom and even scrubbed the bedroom bath when I specifically told him, just clean the broken fridge. What other perfect time can I ask him to do that? Of course when I am away on a trip. But he decided let us clean and tidy up everything. 

And I found he had hung MY laundry, which included my underthings, which I have never EVER ask anyone to wash. I wash those myself. My laundry and the husband's is mine and mine to do. The fact that he took all the dirty laundry that I did not have the time to send to the laundry before the trip and took the liberty of sorting and putting into the washer and hanging them up to dry made me feel somewhat violated. 

So when he came round, I didn't even make a sound and hoped that he will leave me alone as always. 

After my maghrib prayers, I went downstairs to hang up the washing I had put into the washer earlier. Coming down the stairs to a dark livingroom, I knew he was not around. The livingroom is never dark when he is around. I went and hung the washed laundry as quickly as I can, still in my prayer 'telekung' and ran back up to my room when I was done. I was never comfortable when any man is around the house. 

Men... outside in the open is fine. In a closed space with me, is a threat, no matter who they are. 

I am broken like that. 

But who cares?

In my room, wanting to confirm his comings and goings, I sms'ed him, "Weren't you at the house just now?"

In reply, I got a terse "Yes, it's ok... I know you are afraid of me, you never trusted me, I feel that. Don't worry, I will go back to my place tomorrow. I will never disturb you anymore, thanks for everything."

I was dumbfounded. 

Why on earth would I care where he wants to go? 

I forwarded the sms to the husband asking him if J had in fact lost his mind or gone on a PMS-like symptom of some sort. The husband was dumbfounded as well, citing stress as the cause to that sms.

The thought lingered and it prompted me to discuss the matter with my old friends on Whatsapp. They all had a bad premonition. I even texted a colleague who lives closer to school asking if she would want to sleep over that night. But of course that was a bad idea and I was too tired to drive all the way to school just to spend the night at the kampong at their place. I just managed to say thanks and bid her good night.

I did my Isya' prayers and read 2 juzu' of the Quran which was a substantial amount of time to let him simmer with his PMS text message earlier. Then I replied to the text, not suspecting anything, I thought I should be nice and say something. I just told him I was super tired and having a bad headache as I supposedly forgotten my hypertension pills on the trip. I also put in a kind "Are you having family problems back at home?" at the end. 

Then I thought the sms would bring him back to the house which I do not want, I sent a second one telling him to stay at his place until the husband's return which would be best. 

J didn't reply. 

I sensed something bad was going to happen. I don't have women's intuition. Even if I had, I never listened to them. That night, Allah must have protected me, like always, and I felt that instead of changing into my usual sleep garb, it is better if I sleep in my prayer jubbah, which actually belongs to the husband. It was a dark green thick cotton long dress with thin strips running up and down the whole thing with three quarter sleeves. It doesn’t cling to the body not does it reveal the absence of undergarments. 

I fell asleep a little after half past 10.

Then the sound of my other cats banging on the door as they always have when they are playing outside my bedroom door woke me. Or at least I thought it was. I lifted my head from the pillow and looked at the door. It was still closed. I had left the lights on because I felt something was not right before I fell asleep. I laid my head back onto my pillow when suddenly the thought that it might be him at the door, trying to get in struck me and caused my heart to beat hard and fast, hurting my chest. Just then, I heard the door knob turn and before I know it, I saw J walking into my room, coming straight at me and quickly planting a smacking kiss on my right cheek. I could smell the alcohol. He was drunk. 

Everything went very quickly from there.

I sat up in my bed without my head covered like I usually do. I went to bed with wet hair. The hair was already dry though. Then he stood by my bed and started stroking my head with both his hands like one would do to a small child, all the while saying “I am sorry, ma’am Y, I am sorry…. I am sorry.”

I thought, what the hell for?

I was confused, I was disoriented. The fact that he was in the same space as I am in my private sanctuary from the evils of the world was too much for me to handle. I demanded that he leave the room or I would leave. It seemed that it took him too long to understand what I wanted him to do, so I got up, yelled some more for him to leave, but at the same time reaching for the only hijab that was still having behind the door, I got my handbag and the house and car keys but before I left the room, he handed me the bunch of spare keys I had forgotten to put back in my room before I left for the trip to Mukah. I had used it to open the back room to get some stuff from there and left it hanging at the door. He said, here are the keys, I will never do this again, I am sorry. I just threw the keys onto the bed and ran down the stairs and outside to get the padlock at the gate unlocked. But he was there somehow and he stopped me. He begged me not to leave and told me that he would leave me alone. 

I told him again to stop the nonsense and questioned him for being drunk. It was the #1 rule in the house. I also told him that the only thing keeping him near the house was my respect and gratitude for his kindness all this time. He said sorry repeatedly as we both sat on the patio floor. I was still furious from his stupidity. So I got off the floor and went back upstairs. I didn’t think I can feel safe enough being in the same place as he was that night with him being drunk. On the landing he said to me, “I’m sorry ma’am Y, I don’t know how to explain, my Malay is not very good. I don’t want you to misunderstand. I am sorry, ma’am Y, I try you. I am sorry I try you.”

Try me? Try me what????

I shook him off my hands as he was holding it and ran up the stairs back into my room, locking myself in.

In there, I paced back and forth thinking what should I do? Who should I call? It was 1am and I don’t have any close friends anywhere nearby. Then I heard him saying sorry again and again from the stairs. I yelled at him asking him if he wants to see me jump off the balcony or stop the wailing immediately. I opened the door to the balcony but jumping was not an option. From that height with the weight I am carrying, I would have broken both legs and then there would have been no escape. 

I put my hijab back on, grabbed the phone chargers from the sockets and stuffed them into my handbag. I slung the handbag strap over my shoulder and held it close to my body. With the keys held tightly in my hand, I yelled to him again, I am going to leave this house and don’t you try to stop me because by God, I will push you hard enough to break your neck when you hit the floor. 

I opened the door and saw him on the lower part of the stair case below the landing. I just ran down leaving the bedroom door open and pushed him aside as hard as I could. He followed me out the door, probably not wanting me to leave as he knew he was the one who should have left. I yelled at him to stay where he was, as I unlocked the padlock and pushing the gate open on its slider. I jumped into my car, started the engine and sped off. 

Strangely, I drove to Wisma Persekutuan and parked my car outside the gate. I figured, if he were to walk home, he will not take that route. There is also the security guard inside the gates. I messaged my friends on Whatsapp. At 1 am and there were still people who hasn’t gone to sleep yet? When do they sleep???

 

They all told me to lodge a police report. Which was impossible for me because he was a family friend and doing that will cause him to get deported back to his country and he has to feed 2 young children and put them through school. 

I called the husband. It was a useless phone call. But we did get to resolve other matters. 

I can’t go knocking on a colleague’s door at that hour. I could of course, but I wouldn’t. Can’t stay at Perdana or Borneo Hotel as I only had RM30 in my wallet after returning from Mukah earlier. I will not risk withdrawing money from the ATM at this hour. Besides, both hotels are attached to eateries frequented by the husband’s acquaintances. Leaving the hotel in my haphazard getup would have alarmed any who could have seen me leaving the next morning. How many explaining can one do to stop the gossiping that would soon follow?

I decided that I would just stay at Seri Malaysia. I can just use my debit card and it would not be as crowded in the afternoon. I can save myself the embarrassment. 

I stopped by at the police station. Placed a cover report. Just in case. Then I drove to the hotel, checked myself in called the neighbor from the house opposite to mine. She told me her husband saw what happened and was ready to go into action in case I couldn’t handle it. He saw me speed off in my car, so at least he knew I was out of danger. I asked her to watch the house for me and to tell me when J had left the house.  I went to sleep after some Whatsapp messages with the TESL group.

J sent text messages saying how sorry he was. The damage had been done. I didn’t reply at first, but then although he had done something really stupid while being drunk, having crossed that line, I still don’t want him to do anything stupid to hurt himself. Two years is a long enough time I think to prove that one is a good friend. And he was. Unfortunately the husband stopped coming home and he thought I was that kind of person. So I text him to just leave the house and never come near it again, and also to stop communication when he tried calling me after that, or he would risk having the police alerted for harassment and endangerment. 

The communication attempt ceased altogether after that. 

The next two nights, I slept at Kak Nor’s place. She had been kind enough to have let me sleep at her place in Aiman’s bedroom. 

The fourth night, I decided to sleep at home and just risk it. I had asked someone to come and install deadbolts on the doors. But he never came. So I hired a carpenter to do it, but he was busy, so he would only be able to do it the next day. 

Yesterday, the deadbolts were put in place. It took them 4 hours. I gave them RM100, as the carpenter was unwilling to put a price on the job done. I hate that. Thinking I would just give them too little or too much, I just said a number, 100. He said OK, so I handed him the money. 

After  they left, I cleaned up the sawdust from all the doors and spent a few minutes trying the locks; locking and unlocking them a few times. I took the dried laundry off the line, turned on all the outside lights. I refilled the food bowl for the cats, turned the livingroom light on and went back up to my room. 

It was already maghrib again. 

I locked myself in with my two most beloved cats, engaged the deadbolt, after locking and unlocking it a few times. 

Alone again.

I showered, got dressed and did my maghrib prayers followed by my Quranic therapy.

Slept like a baby last night.

Allah had not forsaken me.

He never did.

He never will.

Alhamdulillah, I will always have Him.