Chapter 1: Kunta Kinte.

A sequel to prologue. My wicked life, an autobiography.

1.

I was sitting behind in an old white Honda Civic, traveling with my family from the North Malaysia to a suburb located not so far from Kuala Lumpur; the first federal territory and the capital of Malaysia.

The year was January, 1985, i was 4 going on 5. The passengers were 4 individuals and 2 domestic cats. The driver was a father who had recently graduated from a local university. And the suburb we went to, had a lake, had an address; 18, Jalan Pauh, a double-story terrace.

“Adek, Abang, bangun. Dah sampai.” My mother awakened us, on arrival.

The first thing i did, was to check the 2 cats in a box on the floor of the car. The first thing my elder brother did, was to punch my arm. The first thing my auntie who sat behind with us did, was to stop us from bruising each other. But we never stopped boxing until 7 years later when he entered a religious boarding school.

This auntie, i called him “Mak“, which meant “Mother”. The biological mother of mine who sat in front of the car, who had awaken us at the end of the 10-hour journey, we called her “Umie“. We all called her Umie, even my friends, even my neighbors, even her students, even she herself called herself “Umie“.

2.

Umie was a mother of 2 that year. Little did she know, she was soon to be a mother of 3 the next year, a mother of 4 the next sequent year, a mother of 5 the next two years, a mother of 6 the next year. And then God must have rested her womb, for six relaxing years, until November 1996 she mothered another child, and had 7 children of her own.

Phew, so many children. Phew, 3 years later she had no husband. Phew, a year after the divorce, she had a new husband whom she loved dearly, 1 arrogant stepson who neither liked nor hated her, 4 rude stepdaughters who joined forces with the devil; their diabolical mother.

By the end of 1999, Umie had 7 children of her own, 5 other stepchildren, a new husband who was still married to his diabolical first wife, and had lost those 2 cats whom we brought to 18, Jalan Pauh in January 1985.

Those 2 cats. Whom i loved dearly.

3.

These 2 felines had witnessed my first important lesson, in the 10-hour journey to our new home. Learning how to watch time. My father taught me while he was driving. Further explained by Umie. Further twisted by my elder brother.

“Kalau jarum pendek dekat nombor 4, jarum panjang dekat nombor 10, pukul berapa?” My mother used her wristwatch, my father used the car’s digital watch, my brother used his fingers to count. I used the cat’s paws to ignore them.

“Pukul 4, 10 minit,” my brother Abang, had never gotten it right.

“Pukul seratus juta tahun la, bodoh,” I got it worse, and i liked to curse. My brother, he liked to punch me. My auntie, she liked to be be the referee. My father, he liked to shout. My mother, she liked to pinch us with her sharp fingernails.

Perhaps, this was the most important journey in my life. One that was so vivid, even until today. One, that was once shared. And some of the important figures, today, they are no longer speaking to each other.

Those 2 cats. Whom i loved dearly.

Guess what were their names. Guess what television series my family watched.

Kunta and Kinte.