A spark of hope

For almost 2 weeks, we were living in a very unfammiliar surrounding for our penempatan daerah and there were many scary assumption on the whole idea of how to adapt ourselves to the local custom and the people life. Some of us never have the opportunities to live in a kampung before, and even for those have that before (thanks to the abundant and typical festive rethreat), 2 weeks is already too long for abstaining ourselves from the regular McD’s meals, latte, cineplex movies or the wireless Internet Broadband. Therefore, with litle faith, I went there with a lot of questions – whether can I actually live with these people in a harmonious way or else.

Luckily, my family angkat was a small family, consisting, Mak, Abah, Aidil and Tuk. The home is just like ordinary kampung house, with big lawn, trees, and as expected, the irregular water supply was the most annoying thing that happen during my entire stay. For 4 days, we had to accommodate ourselves with limited reserve from the kolah and at the mercy of the family’s relatives for the usage of their own water source for us to clean and wash .

However, those difficulties did not deter me to enjoy the whole experience. It is the warmth and show of love, acceptance and the tolerance (yeah, I have been using the electricity the whole night for my project, the family car to travel and my lack of participation in daily house chores) that made me realise such family would still be exist in this world.

I am grateful that my foster family helped me to understand the neccessities to be able to live harmoniously with each other despite the differences of personal views and income distributions. My Abah is just ordinary folk doing rubber tapping thing and Mak is a tailor. Tuk is the Madam of the house, silently giving her views to ensure the house is in order and Aidil is the only child that all the hope of better life and future for the family lies on the budding child. It was a refreshing experience, but again I was keeping a gap between myself with these people. As for the fact, I am trully ashamed of the way things work and done in my own family. How I wish I can be more assertive in working out the problems but again, I do think it is not a one-sided business. I have to be forgiving in order to bury the past, but my heart is not allowing me to do. The pain is unbearable – the betrayal, the so called “hukuman” and whatever allegation thrown at me were too harsh. I am defenseless. And in my silent mode, I pray for another new beginning, perhaps it is for the end of the year. Yeah, it has been a year I did not talk to my own mother eversince Adam was born. And like other mother, I am missing my son terribly. Giving away was the worst decision I ever made.

The spark of hope is still there for me. I am praying for Adam’s safety with an aching heart. Happy 1st Anniversary Birthday, my dearest baby.