The Year Away

Last Friday was officially my last day at work for this year, and I am grateful to finally be able to wake up for a couple of weeks or so and not worry about work but do a few things that I have been meaning to do.

I'm going to scatter my documentations of my year off. I know I don't have the discipline to keep a day to day diary, and you don't have the patience to read a daily journal, so I will be brief, and it will be sporadic. (See? If I keep my New Year resolutions realistic, then there is no expectation. With no expectation, there can be no disappointment. Your mind has just been blown.)

Day 1

Today I:

slept at 6.30 a.m. playing Magic cards and watching Liverpool pull of a miracle win over Chelsea
spent a deep and meaningful (yay D&Ms!) discussion time with a friend who has also taken some time off this year
drove along the Eastern Freeway past a girl with golden tresses standing on one of the overhead bridges, getting wet in the rain, just watching the thousands of cars zooming past below her along the rainsplashed roads
had my hair cut by an East Timorese woman, in a style that I like
walked past a sign outside my favourite wineshop which read "Kids in the backseat causes accidents; Accidents in the backseat causes kids"
ran around doing errands, on two hours' sleep
celebrated a birthday, reminiscing about the days as a schoolkid
sat in her car and reflected

Random Memories: Every Primary School Day Until I Was Twelve

At the age of nine, we had all become accustomed to school. The early morning starts, the dangerous school bus rides always overflowing beyond its capacity

(This bus can take

42 seating
12 standing passengers)

and school itself.

I remember the morning assemblies - a court filled with a chaos of students and schoolbags strewn around, some catching up with friends, some catching friends in a game of police and thief. This cacophony of chatter and laughter would pervade the still dawn air, an eerie pale blue colour hanging over everything as the day waited for the sun to warm up.

The school bell would ring unexpectedly in the midst of all this gamut, the annoying Brrriiiinnngggggggggg! like the loudest alarm clock you ever heard piercing the air, silencing even the loudest among us. Like clockwork the children would find the way to their classes, organising themselves from the shortest in the front to the tallest at the back, Standard Ones standing to the right most of the court, while the Standard Six kids would be lined up on the left.

Angkat! Turun! Angkat! Turun! (Lift your hands! Drop them!Lift your hands! Drop them!) boomed the voice of the Discipline Teacher from the microphone, and instinctively, our hands would rise into the air, coming to a rest on the shoulders of our classmates in front of us, and dropping in repetitive motion. This was how we ensured that our rows of two were straight.

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The Head Prefect would take over the microphone, giving announcements, and on Mondays, we would sing the national anthem - the Negaraku, followed by Malaysia Berjaya (Victorious Malaysia) and recite the Rukunegara.

Just to prove to you how these songs have stuck into my head after 11 years of singing and reciting them -

Negaraku, tanah tumpahnya darahku, rakyat hidup, bersatu dan padu, rahmat bahagia, Tuhan kurniakan, Raja kita, selamat bertakhta, rahmat bahagia, Tuhan kurniakan, Raja kita, selamat bertakhta.

Malaysia, Malaysia, negara yang jaya, Malaysia, Malaysia, bebas dan merdeka, seluruh rakyat bersatu, berpadu, menentang antara murka, kami ingin berdamai, di antara bangsa, dengan sorak sorai gembira, di seluruh negara, Malaysia sudah berjaya, rakyat makmur dan sentosa!

Maka kami, rakyat Malaysia, berikrar, akan menumpukan seluruh tenaga, dan usaha kami, untuk mencapai, cita cita tersebut berdasarkan atas, prinsip-prinsip yang berikut: Kepercayaan kepada Tuhan, Kesetiaan kepada Raja dan negara, Keluhuran Perlembagaan, Kedaulatan undang-undang, Kesopanan dan Kesusilaan.

The Headmaster would then assume his position of power behind the microphone on the concrete elevation in the middle, and, in his booming voice, lecture us on matters of discipline and remind us to be well behaved. This could go on for a whole study period some times, much to the joy of the kids who would miss a forty minutes of study, but to the chagrin of the teachers, who wonder how they were going to make up for lost time.

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Occasionally, if we were really lucky, we would be treated to a display of public caning. This was in the good old days, where the severest of crimes among students - fighting, stealing, being involved with gangs - would be punished by a public display of corporal punishment.

The Headmaster would wield his rotan (cane) like an old familiar friend, the student in question would assume the position, his hands on a wooden table set up for the occasion, and then the Headmaster would begin by first explaining why he's about to do what he's about to do. It was a mixture of embarrassment and a warning to the rest of us, and then the poor student, trembling and ashamed, would be treated to three of the best by the Headmaster's well trained swing.

If you were really unlucky, that poor student would be you.

Once assembly was done, we would all pick up our too-heavy schoolbags, sling them over our shoulders and then take turns to trudge up to our classes in our rows of two, starting from the outermost classes inwards. A day of learning awaited us, another long day of books and furious teachers, and of making up games to play with our friends.