Away from Home, Closer to Heart

A recount on a cultural exchange that I’ve attended two years ago brings me back to another in depth self-reflection. It has been quite some time since I sat in front of the laptop, turned the notifications alert on my phone off, quieted myself down to self-reflect in the midst of this chaotic final year crisis.??

My previous stay with a humble Kelantanese Malay family has always been one of the most precious experiences I’ve ever had in my university life. Initially, I was contemplating whether or not should I turn down the invitation so that I would not miss out Statistics on Monday (stats has always been the subject that took me more time and energy to digest as compared to other subjects), as we had to depart on Sunday and would not return until the coming Friday. It took me two days to consider and re-evaluate my decisions between A: “Go, experience something different and let’s worry about stats later.” and B: “Stay put, Professor X said that stats exams would not be easy, are you sure you can afford to miss this class?” At the end, my ego and superego made peace with each other, followed by a final decision which I would’ve regretted if I picked otherwise. With the exemption letter attached, I drafted my excuse letter and scheduled for the email to send to my professors on Monday eight in the morning.

Loghat Kelate (The Kelantanese Dialect)

The moment when I received my placement with my host family, I honestly did not know what to feel. Despite having the experience of exchanges like these, it all suddenly felt so new to me, and so many thoughts popped up in my head, mainly centred around the language barrier. Since the Kelantanese dialect was very different from the Bahasa that we usually speak, I found myself asking “How should I communicate with my host family? I know nothing about loghat Kelate!”, “What if they don’t understand what I’m saying and if I needed to tell them something, do I need to write them on paper or should I speak in pidgin Malay with the help of hand gestures?” This brought me to regret, as I should’ve paid more attention to Bahasa class in Form Six when our teacher, who also happened to be Kelantanese, was having discussions on the topic of “loghat”. However, my concern in regards to communication didn’t exactly worry me out until the end, as I managed to figure things out by listening more attentively and trying my best to speak the dialect as much as possible also helped me to understand the same Bahasa language spoken in a very distinct way. I figured out that if you replace certain syllables with different ones, it all would make so much more sense. For example, “makan ikan” (eat fish) would be “make ike (“mah-kay ee-kay” with “y” silenced). Throughout that five days, I had to constantly keep the rules of the Kelantanese dialect in mind, so that I would not relapse to the usual Bahasa when I speak to my host family. My real pain was when I tried speaking with Grandma, as her Kelantanese accent was so thick that I had to rely on other members of the family as interpreters.??

A Different Home

Just last weekend, I had the opportunity to catch up with the cultural exchange’s organizer over lunch at a hotel after an event. We recalled the memories that we had back in the Cultural Harmony Exchange days, on how it was many of the participants’ first time in Kelantan. I remembered the house that hosted my stay, the picture was still clear in my head to this day. Situated in a village named Gong Kulim, a traditional wooden stilt house hidden behind the woods was guarded by two entrances, with the main way that lead you to the common area and the second that opened the door to the kitchen. From the latter perspective, you can catch a glimpse of the daily laundry hung on a rope tied between two coconut trees, baked in the sun and air dried by the breeze. Roosters and hens would tap their claws around the front yard and pecked the soil in search of food. A young black feline, which I assumed was the family cat would constantly try to enter the house after being tossed out every single time, without fail. In the day, the scorching heat made it difficult to do things, you’d feel drowsy but soon find yourself to wake up in sweat, craving for a cold shower. At night, however, the temperature dropped drastically as cold air entered through the gaps between the wooden planks surrounding the house. In the wee hours of the morning when you’re partially awake while being curled up inside the blankets, the cold made you procrastinate to leave bed.

Daily Delights

One of the events that happened every day involved Abah (my host dad) bringing home watermelons. Yes, you heard it correctly, watermelons. Big, fat, dark green watermelons which they call it “Timun Cina” (literally translates to “Chinese Cucumbers”). Perfect as a thirst quencher on a hot afternoon, we would sit down together at the kitchen with the door open, welcoming the afternoon breeze, enjoying the freshly cut “cucumbers” while sipping on some Tuak (fermented coconut water, often marketed as coconut wine). Lekors dipped in sambal were a bonus, and nothing beats the authenticity of the classic Lekors in the East Coast, which draws me back to my pre-school days when my grandma (or sometimes the babysitter) would treat me to those at a stall in front of home, that is of course, without my parents knowing. Now, I imagine this “minum petang” in Kelantan would resemble a typical tea break back home, where I’d usually greet the afternoon with a cup of homemade latte and some biscuits bought from the supermarket.?

Less is Indeed More

In today’s world where we would often be pressured to pursue for more and more, the simple lifestyle that my Kelantanese family had was nowhere near how the capitalist society intended its members to live. While we may worry over not accomplishing enough, I was curious at how they live with very little. As compared to the minimum monthly wage we had two years back, the income they received on a monthly basis was less than a quarter of that. With nine children to feed and the youngest one who still required infant care, I simply could not imagine how a family sustained their life living like this. I even thought to myself selfishly, I could never survive like how they had been doing for years, even if it was just for a month! There were probably more things that I own in my room than what they have in the entire house!???

While I often contemplate about what to have for lunch whilst driving around town complaining that there is nothing to eat, they ate simple. Without a functioning refrigerator at home, my host mum (we call her Umi) cooked whatever was brought to her by Abah on that day. On some days it was fish and on other days it was chicken. Here’s a tip from Umi: If you want to bring the flavour out of your chicken soup, add a pinch of lime towards the end of your brew. I have been doing the same at home since then and my chicken soup would never be absent from that pinch of lime juice.

“Less is more”, probably a cliché statement which you may or may not have come across many times. Be it superficial or philosophical, my understanding towards “less is more” is best portrayed by the Kelantanese lifestyle that my host family led. If you were to ask me what was it that made the “less” more, my answer would be “the state of mind”. Take away the elements that feed on our attention excessively, such as harassing ourselves with the thoughts of what to have for dinner later or fussing over between the choices of black and white for that third pair of wireless earphones we’ve been eyeing for, not remembering that one pair suffices (considering we only have two ears). Instead, spare the attention to live in the present, make things happen and cultivate creativity. I quote from Millburn and Nicodemus on their book “Love People, Use Things. Because The Opposite Never Works”, distraction reduces when you own less, simply because you do not have to spend time and energy on obstructions that take up your resources. In return, calmness and serenity fill the heart and mind, a rewarding, yet short-lived experience. I assure you, no money can ever buy you that, unless you favour resembling illusions over the real experience.

Another quote from Millburn and Nicodemus, “A kind person would never care about what car you drive, where you live and the clothing brand you wear”. Reflecting on this, I relate to what Abah said to me before, “Material things will be gone one day as they break and rot, but the memories that we share together are eternal.” Abah was indeed a kind person, he and his wife didn’t have much to spare but still made sure I got the best throughout my stay. This has taught me that, you simply do not need to own a lot to give. To give here doesn’t necessarily mean contributing a huge sum of something every now and then, as it can also be sharing what you have at present with the person next to you. Abah has always believed in sedekah, giving alms and reaching out to those in need. His virtue would always circle back to him eventually, though the returns may not be materialistic, it could be good health, safety, peace or any forms of rezeki that went to this family. Despite his own hardships, Abah was never hesitant to give or help anyone in need. As the Tok Penghulu (village chief), people would come to him, asking for his help to certify documents, since he was the only one in the village eligible to do so. If I recall correctly, his stamp had always been safety tucked inside a sling bag that hung against the wall while he worked in the fields. If anyone needed his stamp and signature while he was away, they would either wait patiently in front of home or return later when he comes home. It was oddly satisfying observing the daily routines of my host family.

*I was later told that our host families in Kelantan purposely took the entire week’s off from work just to be with us throughout our stay. ????

Tranquillity, Mindfulness & Humour

As I sat at the veranda with Umi while watching the kids play, I began to wonder, “What was it that I found here that went out of touch for me back home?” It was tranquillity, freedom from disturbance. Were moments of tranquillity harder to come by due to the hustle and bustle of urban living? Yes and no. Yes in the sense where hustles coming from city life, usually manifested in forms of ruminative thinking, intoxicate the mind and murder our inner peace unknowingly. In response to “No”, we tend to forget that tranquillity originates from our state of mind most of the time. Our powerful potential lies in blocking out any of the threats that is detrimental to our state of mind and we can achieve this by simply reminding ourselves to be mindful. The power of “mindfulness” must not be belittled, as this mechanism helps us to view things from different perspectives, grow and flourish in fulfilling ways. Of course, the surrounding plays an important role as well, limits and boundaries are real as we are just human. My advice to those struggling at borderline, reach out, seek help, and talk to a trusted friend, family member or professional therapist immediately.

Sitting at the veranda with Umi, Kak Long (Eldest Sister) and her one year old son was our daily routine after our tea break. We would wait until Asar (the daily afternoon prayer time in Islam) for Abah’s return before heading indoors again. I enjoyed listening to Umi and Kak Long’s conversations in loghat Kelate, though I was less capable of responding to them. There were stories behind those conversations and it was the homely familial interactions that provided me with a sense of peace and comfort. I began to slow down and started listening to my thoughts, aware of my inhales and exhales while hearing the chicks chirping as if they were cheering on me. Mindfulness! Ironically, it seems like I have been forgetting to practice mindfulness before this whenever I was dealing with relentless stress. Tranquillity has always been there, inside our hearts and mind, we just need to know the right way to activate it. ????

Another event that I will remember for the rest of my life would be us receiving a parking ticket from the town council on our last day together when we were just about to leave Kota Bharu (I’ve completely forgotten that things like parking charges exist). Guilt engulfed me and my attempt to “fix” the situation earned quite a humorous reaction from Abah. After seeing the fine on the ticket, Abah responded by grinning and said, “Hmph (shrugs). Let’s not worry about that now, we’ll get someone’s help to pay on our behalf later next week.” He then folded the ticket, shoved it into his bag and we took off. I just adore this man’s sense of humour! He had always given me the impression of a strict father, with much resemblance to Tok Janggut (the renowned Malay warrior during the Kelantan Rebellion) and never have I saw this witty side of him before our encounter with the parking fine. ?

Reaching Out to the Depths of Our Hearts

On the eight hour journey back home, thoughts of reflection began flooding in and I was eager to write them up immediately before they start slipping way. Funny, less is indeed more huh? With less attention spared on invasive and pointless thoughts throughout the five days, so many ideas came to me all at once, something which I admit was almost impossible to come by when I (or my mind) am so called “occupied” with other things.??

Flashbacks of Abah’s figure, distances away from the bus before we left played in my mind a couple of times. He stood afar and watched me as I waved at him on the bus. To my surprise, our farewell was less of an emotional one and we spoke very little towards our departure. Perhaps, we both preferred saying our goodbyes this way, no sheds of tears, just a simple appreciation towards each other for the moments captured together, a recollection of a significantly memorable chapter. You might ask, “What’s your favourite momento from this trip?” In fact, I’ve asked myself many times and it seems like the answer changes every time. Yet, one that never changed would be “the miraculous moments of powerful connections that touched the depths of our hearts beyond the barriers of language and beliefs”. ?????