Creature of habits

by Nani-Syed Osman on Wednesday, June 8, 2011 at 8:56am

          After 3 years living in Kg Baru, in a one-bedroom apartment, we finally packed our bags and moved into another apartment in S. Alam. Pak Habib was commuting to his office in UiTM and we wanted to ease his travel to work, now that he’s full time. The apartment we rented was slightly bigger than the old one: 3-bedrooms with 2-bathrooms. It was located in Seksyen 8, just before the entrance to the Bukit Cerakah.
          It often rained in S. Alam; the rolling thunders and the striking lightning accompanying almost each drop. I was a mother with 3 kids, then, and was often terrified with the sound in the sky. One of the reasons for my fear came after watching an old Malay movie, when I was a kid, where the lady’s fatality was met by a lightning as she stood by a typical Malay house window. `Unfortunately, I had to put out a strong front for my children.
          It usually rained almost at noon or early evening. I purposely picked the one room without any windows and gathered my children into it. I made sure that I placed them and me, as close to the floor as possible, with the illusion that the lightning had to work itself hard to strike me, or the children. To pass the time, I took this opportunity to feed them. For every bite that they took, we’d retell and share betimes stories that I had read to them.
          One Monday, as it approached noon, the sky darkened and signs of a storm approaching were obvious.  As the first and second thunders rolled, the lightning struck and followed by another. I knew a third and a fourth were coming. I made the children dropped whatever they were doing and shooed them into the meant room.  Bending myself in my mental attempt, as if to dodge the upcoming lightning, I made sure the windows were closed as we passed them by. As soon as we stepped into the room, relieved, I let go of a heavy sigh and got them to sit on the floor in a circle, as usual. I was so good at hiding my fear of thunder that the children never notice the sulked face and the curled forehead every time the sound made its appearance.
          This was made evident when  Zaid, at 3, adjusting his cute chubby self between his sister and his brother, widened his eyes, looked at me and inquired, enthusiastically, ’Kita nak makan ye mak?  

The moral of the story is: we are creatures of habits….