Mom's Visit

My Mom came! She was here to visit me. I picked her up at the airport. She brought some of my stuff from home. I was happy to see her after two years of being away from home.

It was great to have Mom here. I wish it had been a pleasant time for her, but it wasn’t. She didn’t like the food. She didn’t even like the food that we bought from an Indonesian restaurant. On the second day, she kicked a leg of the coffee table and was limping for a couple of weeks. Her skin became itchy and flaky. Her bones ached. She had a mysterious rash. I went to several Chinese herbal shops and pharmacists because she refused to see a doctor. Finally she came along with me and we found a lotion that cured the rash.
We never asked her to do anything around the house, but she said she couldn’t sit around on her butt and watch TV all day, so she cooked, ironed, and tidied up the house. After almost a month of suffering, she had enough of Sydney. When I asked her if she wanted to extend her stay she said no. Her body couldn’t take anymore. She wanted to go home. I tried not to cry on the day she left, but successfully failed.

Interesting Guy

It was a sunny Sunday afternoon when the door bell rang. I opened the door saw a tall, wiry man in jeans, t-shirt and a vest. His hair was grayish and was tied neatly in a pigtail. His face was covered with gray stubbles. He asked me very politely if I knew where number forty-two was. The house that was advertised for rent. I knew the house had been empty for some time. I told him where - next door, behind the convenience store. He said “shieh shieh” and I was a bit surprised because he was not Chinese. He smiled cheekily and I was reminded of a wolf. I thought, what an interesting guy. Was he going to be our new neighbour?

A few minutes later I heard somebody coming into the neighbour's house through the back door. I heard some noises, like somebody was hitting the wall with a hammer. I felt a bit suspicious. Should I have a look? What if there was a gang of thieves there? I was alone at home. What if they saw me and decided to silence me? Should I call the police? Half a minute later the hammering stopped. Phew…, I thought. Perhaps it was just somebody that the owner had asked to repair something in the house.

Several weeks later I found out that the water heating system of the neighbour’s house had been stolen. And I thought of the interesting guy with the pig tail. So he was actually a burglar?? A very well-dressed guy, on a sunny Sunday afternoon, asking for directions to the house he was going to break into, and saying thank you in Chinese??????? Mate, the world has gone mad for sure.

All three of us had been fasting since morning and we were hungry. My turn would be at around three. I was tired and quite numb by the time a nurse call my name. We walked to surgery and she told me to lie down on a bed with wheels. A male nurse pushed the bed into anesthetics bay. The anesthetist greeted me and introduced me to his assistants. There must have been about four of them, walking in and out of the room. The doctor inserted a needle into my vein and chatted with me and his assistant. He told me that he was going to Jakarta in two days for a conference. I was going to ask him “Are you sure?” because I know there was a big flood there at the moment. My home and my friends’ home had been submerged. But he was chatting with his assistant about the way anesthetists were trained in Indonesia and my surgeon just came in so I didn’t ask him.

A few minutes later I was wheeled into the operating theatre. They put a metal plank under my bed sheet and pulled the sheet, and me, onto the operating bed. An assistant put an oxygen mask over my nose. The anesthetist released the knock-out liquid into my hand. I felt a burning sensation creeping up my arm. I was worried. What if it burned through my whole body? One, two, three… “Wake up. It’s over now. You’re in recovery.” I was given some food. I changed into my own clothes. The nurse took out the needle and cut out the labels. My sister-in-law came and we went home.

A nurse took me to a quiet room to calm down. Then she took me up to day surgery again to wait for my turn. There was another person sitting in the waiting room. I sat next to her and started a conversation. She told me her whole family was riddled with cancer. Her parents had cancer, and her sister was terminally ill. She herself had had an operation to remove some nasties from her tummy and now she had seven funny stuff on one breast and nine on the other. I started to cry again. This time because I felt sorry for her, but I didn’t tell her that. We chatted about the programs on the TV and I felt better after that. We even laughed very loudly at one point because she said something really funny but I can’t remember what she said.

Another lady came and told me she had had a tumor the size of a golf ball removed from her breast twenty years ago. Last year she had three tumors removed from her stomach. The biggest was ten cm in diameter, the smallest was five. I really began to feel like a big crybaby.

Hookwire Biopsy

My brother and sister-in-law were on their way home from the airport. I took the morning train alone to go to the city and continued by taxi to the hospital. I was late for my eight o’clock appointment. The nurses were waiting anxiously for me at day surgery. I met the anesthetist there. He was the same doctor who helped me through my mastectomy last year. He still remembered the case, because at that time he tried to put in three types of tube down my throat, and failed. The fourth one, a fibre optic disposable something finally went in. No wonder I had a horrible sore throat the day after. Other than the difficult intubation, I was very good, he said.

After a brief check up and filling out a form I was taken to the breast clinic. I changed into that ugly floral gown and waited. My turn came and I went into the ultrasound room to get the wires inserted. My mom was shocked when I told her about the wires. “WIRE???” So I lied and said, “X-Ray, to locate the funny stuff.” The doctor took out the pain-killer needle and I started to cry, because that was going to be the beginning of the pain. I cried throughout the procedure, even after I didn’t feel pain anymore. I guess it wasn’t a physical pain that hurt me most. Lately, I cried every time I went the breast clinic. I cried after the mammo, and again when I was asked to have a needle biopsy. I even cried at bookings when I asked the staff what is the difference between a private patient and a public patient and she said, “Private is private, public is public.” I’m turning into a big crybaby. I wasn’t like this last year. What’s going on??

Absurd

One week into 2007, I was on my way home from a trip to the city. I was thinking of how absurd my life was. I had resigned from my job here, thinking I was going home to my own country. Then the doctor told me that the result from the needle biopsy was not good. After all the horror of the surgeries last year, I would be going through the whole nightmare all over again. So I resigned from my job in Jakarta, hoping that the superannuation money would help me through some of the bills. My family had been urging me to stay here permanently. But I can’t. Not without further studies at uni, which costs too much.

I’m 35. Jobless, penniless, with a costly medical condition, and truckloads of emotional baggage that had kept me from making anything out of myself. A parasite in the family. Stuck. What am I living for? Nothing. Maybe it would be better if I didn’t exist. I wanted to disappear. How could I make myself disappear?

These were my thoughts when the cell phone beeped. It was a message from a close friend in Singapore. “May, adik gue, Huat, meningggal tadi pagi.” Her brother had passed out and died that morning. He was only 30, with no known history of illness. I was shocked. My poor friend, and her grieving parents...

Life, indeed, is absurd. I don’t understand any of this.

New Year's Eve

It was New Year’s Eve. On exactly the same night last year, I was at home with a bandage across my chest from a surgery, feeling very miserable because it was difficult to sleep and I couldn’t go anywhere. I couldn’t even go to the living room because my niece’s boyfriend was staying over and sleeping there.

This year I was alone at home. Most of my folk have flown back home for a holiday and my niece was out with her friends. I didn’t want to stay home, so I planned to go to North Sydney to see the fireworks. When I got to the station there were a group of noisy teens lining up for train tickets. It was like the whole school had gathered there. After waiting for half an hour, I couldn’t stand it anymore and walked back home. Then I called my friend to say Happy New Year. She was going to the city to see the fireworks with another friend and she asked me if I wanted to come along. I was so glad I didn’t end up spending New Year’s Eve alone at home.

The Statue Man

This is a photo of the ‘statue man’. He was taking a break after a long day’s work. When he was working, he stood very still, just like a statue. Passersby put coins in a box in front of him. Sometimes they took photos with him. The statue man would put his silver shawl around the tourists’ shoulders and made them wear wreaths of flowers for the photos. He gave lollies to children. As I sat down to watch, I saw smiles on people’s faces as the statue man entertained the tourists. Young girls giggled. Children fascinated and happy.

As the statue man was taking his break, I could see that he was very tired. It must have been sweltering in his costume and make up on that sunny day. There was no shade to protect him from the sun. Just seconds after the picture was taken, a jogger passed by and slapped the statue man across the face. It was totally an unprovoked attack. The statue man was surprised but was quick enough to call out to the jogger. The jogger stopped and turned back. I couldn’t hear what they said to each other. The statue man was obviously asking for an explanation and an apology and the jogger seemed to be too cocky to take him seriously. The argument grew hotter. The statue man stripped down to shorts and singlet and raised his fists. He was much older and appeared frail compared to the muscular jogger. The jogger also raised his fists. Punches flew but they both managed to avoid getting hit. The statue man pulled the jogger’s shirt off in the fight and threw it back at him. The jogger walked away, but then came back, shouting abuse at the statue man. I guess his ego was badly bruised.

Several ticket men from the jet boat arena nearby approached. They asked the jogger what happened. It was not clear what was going to happen next. Then punches flew again. This time they rained on the jogger. He was outnumbered and outnerved. A group of by standers, me included, cheered and clapped as he ran away. He scowled at us but we ignored him.

Kindness

The people you meet just surprised you sometimes. I was sitting in the breast-clinic’s waiting room, waiting for my turn. I was scheduled to have a fine-needle biopsy on that day. A middle aged lady was sitting next to me. We were both wearing hospital gowns. She looked at me with huge eyes. “What you here for?” she asked. I told her. She looked surprised, but then she said kindly, “Don’t you worry, dear. It’s going to be alright.”

“They took one of mine, and I’m alright. See..” she pointed out where her breast had been. She had had a mastectomy. “Don’t you worry. You’ll be fine.”

We had a chat and I found out that she migrated to Australia as a refugee 40 years ago. She was from Egypt but was actually Greek.

The nurse called her and that ended our chat. She followed the nurse, grumbling all the way. It was clear that to her, as I also knew, the treatment for cancer was not a walk in the park. She was obviously scared and worried about her own health, but she took the time to comfort me. That made her a very wonderful person to me.

Busted!

Enida had a motorcycle. She usually picked me up on her way to uni and dropped me off on the way home. In return we shared the gasoline cost.

One day we decided to check out a poster store after class. Enida got confused by my instructions and took a wrong turn. A traffic policeman on a motorbike was waiting for us around the bend. We were stopped. This kind of policemen usually expected money from people who got caught. I was not familiar with the procedure and I didn’t have much money with me anyway so I just stayed quiet. Enida didn’t offer him any money either. We were asked to follow him to a police station nearby.
Enida sulked throughout the ordeal. She didn’t argue with the policeman but she refused to surrender her driver’s license. She didn’t answer any of the policeman’s questions. She just clamped her mouth tightly together with an expression that said ‘I’m not talking to a scum like you!’ and ‘I’m going to tell my dad, you Bully!’ After almost an hour, the policeman gave up. He let us go with a warning.

The Reward

I was an average student throughout school, but at university I suddenly get a lot of As and Bs. I actually hated economics and I couldn’t put two and two together without a calculator. But since we were allowed to use calculator, I did just fine.

There were some hot shots in my batch at uni. You could tell who were hot shots by the way they strutted around campus. They usually had rich or influential dad, or both. I instinctively disliked these kids. I was naturally jealous because they had money and and were popular. I didn’t and I wasn’t. One of these kids was Rina. Her father was a successful businessman in Palembang. Rina asked me to help her with one of the subjects. I didn’t particularly like her, but she was nice to me so I helped her with some tutoring sessions. She treated me to a movie as payment.

When the result came out, Rina got a B. Not bad. As for me, I made a small but fatal mistake in the exam. I got a D and had to repeat the subject.

the village

When I was a teenager, Mom took me to a small village where she grew up. It was a tiny village in the middle of nowhere in Sumatra. After a long, tiring trip we arrived. We stayed in a quaint house on stilts, by a small river. I don't remember much of the trip. Just that people recognized me immediately as Mom's daughter. I must have looked just like her. I had the best fried chicken ever in that village. Things were going great until morning came. We took a shower in an outdoor bathroom. There was no roof, so everybody donned a sarong when bathing. If that was bad, the toilet was worse. It was at the back of house, at the end of a wooden plank, over the river. The toilet itself was a small cubicle about one meter in diameter, roofless, like the shower. If a person squated over the hole on the floor, he or she could still enjoy the surrounding view because the cubicle was only one meter tall. But the worst part was that there was a similar facility right across the river. You could practically chat with your neighbour while unloading. I took one look at the toilet, and abandoned all idea of trying it out. It was a torture but I managed to wait until we arrived at another relative's house in a small town half a day away. This relative's toilet is not much more than a hole on the floor, but at least it had proper walls and a roof.

Loo Incident

When my sister started dating, she sometimes took me along as a chaperone. One evening a prospective boyfriend took us to a restaurant. We ate in the outdoor area. Afterwards I needed to go to the loo. It was a bit far from where we ate, which was good, considering what happened next. I had a bit of a problem with the toilet door. I tugged and tugged at the door but it wouldn’t budge. I tugged hard and the whole door came off with a crash. Nobody else was in the toilet area at that time so nobody saw what happened. I went out, my brain still trying to digest I had just yanked a door off its hinges. There was a light switch right outside the toilet and I automatically pressed it, as I usually did at home. The toilet light went out, so did some lights for the eating area nearby. Gasp! I quickly pressed the switch again and walked calmly towards our table as if nothing had happened.

Bibi Rani

After the neighbour boy left, my mother found another washer lady. She was a cheerful Indian lady. Bibi Rani was very dark, very round and very nice. She helped my mother to lift father when he was completely paralyzed. When my father was beginning to recover, she became a physiotherapist and helped him walked up and down the house. Bibi Rani liked to chew betel leaves and tobacco. She carried around a tin can to spit into. She let me try some betel leaves with a little lime. I can’t remember the taste but it was not unpleasant. Bibi Rani has a sister-in-law called Bibi Anggema. She also chewed betel leaves and tobacco and I think she was addicted to lotto. The ladies spent long afternoons discussing what numbers would turn up next. They analyzed their dreams or their relative’s dreams or anybody's dreams and then tried to interpret the dreams into numbers. It was an elaborate and complicated process. Every once in a blue moon they won a bit of money and they would brag about it to us.

Lotto Addicts

After failing to turn the neighbour boy into a proper laundry man, my mother found a real washer lady. Bibi Rani was cheerful Indian lady. Very dark and round all over. She helped my mother to lift father when he was completely paralyzed. When my father was beginning to recover, she became a physiotherapist and helped him walked up and down the house. Bibi Rani liked to chew betel leaves and tobacco. She carried around a tin can to spit into. She let me try some betel leaves with a little lime. I can’t remember the taste but it was not unpleasant. Bibi Rani has a sister-in-law called Bibi Anggema. She also chewed betel leaves and tobacco and I think she was addicted to lotto. They spent long afternoons discussing what numbers would turn up next. They analyzed their dreams or their children’s dreams and then tried to interpret the dreams into numbers. In fact, they interpreted anything that they saw or experienced into numbers. It was an elaborate and complicated process. Every once in a blue moon they won a bit of money would brag about it. Then they would immediately restart the painstaking process of number-hunting.

Neighbours 3

My mom did not give up. She went on another crusade. She persuaded the lady next door to allow her younger boy, who was about eleven, to stay with us. She persuaded another lady who lived a bit further away to allow her son, who was around nine to come too. The boys were happy at first. My mom taught they should be taught religion, so he made them pray five times a day. (They were not even Moslem!) As I said, my mother did not have any training in social work. After a couple of days, the boys started to get bored with home life and the routines, especially the younger boy. His name was Phai. Phai is small for his age. Not much bigger than my four-year-old niece. One day, they were playing together when my mom started to get suspicious. Phai was rubbing himself a lot and acting funny, and was trying to take my niece to a quiet corner. Mom approached and told Phai to stand up straight and sure enough, the little guy had an erection. She sent both boys home. I’ve just learned about child abuse and I realized now that Phai could have been a victim of child abuse. Things had been shown to him or even done to him that was not appropriate. Poor kid.

Neighbours 2

We had some very interesting neighbours. Our next door neighbours were ladies of dubious reputation. They had several children, whom they beat up regularly. From our house we could hear the children crying, screaming, pleading as they were chased around the house with a cane, or whatever were used. My mother, who did not have a rosy childhood herself tried to do what she could. She had no training in social work or psychology, so her efforts were unplanned and sporadic, with some interesting results. First of all, she tried to save the eldest neighbour boy. He was a cross-dresser and had worked in a massage parlour. My mom tried to keep him away from prostitution by hiring him to wash our laundry. I think he hated the job, because he never smiled when he did the washing. He swore a lot. In the end, my mom fired him because clothes started to go missing and one time he was caught with clothes hidden under his shirt.

Neighbours 1

My salad days was not all bad. I made some good friends. My sister had a school friend who lived near us, in a small street called the Snail Alley. The friend’s mother was a hairdresser, so I often come and visit to get my hair cut. I called her Aunty. The friend also had a little brother about my age. His name is San. Sometimes our two families went on picnics together. I remember fun trips to the zoo, the beach and the mountains. Aunty sometimes took us to see Mandarin movies. The cinema was not very far so we usually just walk there and back. San and I often played together. San and I got along pretty well, considering that we were both in our early teens. Sometimes I visited San, and sometimes he visited me. One day he came while I was in my room. I had almost finished getting dressed, but not quite yet. He walked in, I screamed, he ran home. He didn’t show up again until we were both in high school.

Super Dentist

I was teased a lot about my looks and had grown very anxious whenever I left the house. I stopped looking at people’s faces. I looked down on the asphalt, up at trees, sky, cloud, sideways to the houses, things in the shops, rooftops, cars, feet, grass, fallen leaves. At one point my brain began to persuade me to believe that I was inside a bubble, like a glass shell, and nobody could hurt me while I was in there. Crazy? Sure. But that was just my self-defense mechanism going over-creative.
We went to another orthodontist, yet again. This one was a university professor. She was rough, and nasty. She always gossiped with the assistant while treating my teeth. When I asked for a discount she verbally abused me for several minutes (Trust me, you can say a hell of a lot of things in 5 minutes). It was very effective. I never dared to ask for a discount from her ever again.

The professor yanked out three mammoth teeth and installed braces that caused me headaches and a million blisters. For the first time in my life I was able to close my mouth properly. I began to look more or less normal. I was sixteen.

The Sewing Machine

I saw a small, battery-operated sewing machine at Hoya. It was pink and it could really sew. I looked at it and drooled. I was twelve or thirteen and I liked to make clothes for my doll. I asked my mom questions about it. She said it was too expensive for a toy and I could hurt myself with the needle. She told me a story of grandma, who had a needle of a sewing machine jammed into her forefinger. It must be very difficult for parents to say no to their children. I know this because my mother never forgot that sewing machine. One day she bought me a miniature sewing machine. It was not pink, but it was tiny and it could really sew. I was thirty when she bought it for me. ((((((: