Ibu had a meeting; therefore I had to wait at the canteen. The meeting held in the library so I couldn't go there. Since most students from the afternoon session have not come to school yet, I finished some of the exercises in the book even though my teacher hasn't touch the topic.
It turned out to be that when my friends did the exercises, I got boring because I have finished it before the class. A Chinese boy who was sitting in front of me finished it too. He taught me how to colour an aubergine. I followed his instruction on how to use the purple colour pencil. My teacher went out only for a while to the toilet.
My standard one monitor was unsatisfied because he coloured his aubergine blue. We argued that the aubergine is supposed to be purple, but he kept on saying he was right. He told me that his grandmother told him that an aubergine colour is blue. I told him my nenek cooked a purple aubergine!
AUBERGINE = BRINJAL = EGGPLANT = TERUNG (you'll find eggplant in wikipedia)
When the teacher came back from toilet, mymonitor said, "Cikgu, tadi Shahida bercakap!" I denied and showed her the aubergine, but my teacher trusted my monitor. So, the big ruler caressed my baby Johnson skin before I could explained myself further.
I didn't cry but after reccess, a standard 3 student came to my class and told my teacher that my mum wanted to meet me at the sports equipment store.
Paaaaannggg!!!Ibu slapped me, pinched me and gave me six strokes! She didn't say anything at all at that time. I couldn't take the blow. As a seven years old child, I weigh less than 30kg. My cheeks drenched with the silent tears which poured like the rain. I knew for a fact that if she heard my voice, she would pinch my lips. So, I couldn't cried out. I sobbed.
She then asked me, "Kau bercakap dalam kelas ye?!"
I said, "Taaaak....tak cakap pun, ibu."
Paaangg!!! She slapped me again.
"Buat malu aje!"
I looked around. There was no one there. Ibu didn't consoled me and I was thinking, "Who told ibu about this?" It must be my teacher! Ooo..I hated her! She gave me those big ruler strokes and now I'm getting more from my mum!
I had to quit sobbing because ibu forced me too. Then she took some tissue papers and scrubbed my face with it before she ordered me to go back to my class. I was silent for more than one day.
When I reached home, I heard a conversation between my parents while I was in the room:
"Dia marah I sebab pukul kakak," ibu said.
"Dia cakap apa?" ayah asked.
"Zakiah, did you hit your daughter? I said, yes...because someone told me my daughter was talking in the class." Ibu explained to ayah.
"Then?" I knew ayah wanted to know more.
"Dia bagitau, dia dah rotan kakak dalam kelas. Kenapa rotan lagi? Bukan kakak tak siap kerja."
"I cakap, I tak suka orang yang lalu-lalu tu datang bagitau I yang anak I nakal."
"Cikgu *****", ibu said.
"So you pukul kakak lah?"
"Yelah." Ibu said firmly. No regret from her voice.
That was not the first incident.
Several happened since the first one.
Ibu was never at my side.
I went to my mum's school to help her out on The Canteen Day. At that time, I was a second year degree student who weigh 47kg (I was light once, okay!) I already knew at that time that an aubergine is purple and it will turn bluish after it is cooked:)
I saw children playing around near a hot wok.
I asked ibu, "Anak siapa tu?"
Ibu said, "Anak Cikgu *****."
I saw children lying on the ground, crying.
I asked the same question.
Ibu answered different names but began with the word "cikgu". Again."Anak Cikgu...dot...dot...dot..(not PakcikDot!)
I checked on the mothers. They were not doing anything. They were either busy chatting or doing something else. Ironically, a teacher who hit her daughter almost 20 years ago was busy doing her work but the ones who complained about her daughter were not. I guess chatting was so much fun! They could squeezed the time to do it even at school!
Or it might be they were gossipping about other teacher's daughter. The way they did to me back in 1989. As if what I saw in their children were the best example for Tokoh Kanak-Kanak Sedunia:P
I chopped the cucumber though I hated to see their faces. I only focused on those teachers I loved and adored.
"Dah masuk U ye!" One of them asked.
"Ye." The chatterbox lid is closed for those shedespised. It was open to good teachers only, not gossipers.
I tried to neglect the bitter feelings which will eventually make me spit out things like,
"Ooooo....dah masuk U baru kau nak manis mulut dengan aku ye!~"
But I remained silent to respect my beloved ibu. She is a teacher herself. She did everything for love. The pinches and strokes had proven the results.
At home, ibu finally blurted about her dissatisfaction towards others - the parents, the students and THE TEACHERS and their childten (as usual, I'm her best friend, her councellor, her student, and HER TEACHER). So, I prepared my ears to listen.
"Jangan gossip anak orang. Nanti orang gossip anak ibu, " I said when she complained about one particular teacher's children.
"Ibu nak cerita pada siapa, kakak? Dengan kau ajelah. Dengan orang lain, tak boleh," she said.
"Kenapa?" I purposedly asked her.
"Sebab as a mother, tak seronok dengar orang cakap pasal anak kita. So, takkan nak cerita pasal anak orang," she said.
"So, ibu tak buat kan?" I pinched her cheeks.
"Tak." She said.
"Jangan cakap anak orang tau!" she pinched me back gently. No bruises this time.
"Orang sekarang, cakap pasal anak dia pun dia bukan nak percaya, kakak..." she softly said.
"Bukan semua orang rotan anak macam ibu!" I sulked.
"Kalau tak rotan, maknanya ibu tak adil. Anak orang ibu rotan, anak sendiri tak tau jaga."
I cried that day.
It was not because of the pain.
It was because I was proud.
XoXo <---what is this? Gossip Girl signs?
I bet you know anyone who just love to say, "Anak orang tu..."
Any story to tell about the storyteller?
* still to come: what happened yesterday on my birthday:
* help! i can't blog hop at julietcun and chekdee's blog! malware detected:(