Chapter 2 : Ma ismuka, Ma ismuki.

The sequel to Chapter 1. The paradox of my life, an autobiography.

4.

When Abang turned 6 on February 1985, Umie saw some natural and raw talent in both of us — shown in the bruises, heard from the noises. If my talent was crying and Abang’s talent was to make me cry and Umie didn’t have the talent to make us stop hurting each other, that was when she left it to the talented kindergarten teachers.

“Tadika Ehsan, tadika Islam, Seksyen tiga di Shah Alam.” 8 in the morning of each weekday, in the lawn of a bungalow that had been turned into an Islamic kindergarten, this was among my first acquired skills — singing nursery rhymes was only my first training. I would soon be trained to memorize the verses from the Quran, memorize 99 names of God, and when the necessary training was completed, i would soon write the journey of losing the faith in what i had been trained for.

The paradox of my life, an autobiography.

When i was 5, Umie and the constitution of my country had already decided the religion of her children. Umie had also decided when Abang had to enter kindergarten, i had to follow. When Abang needed a new toy truck, i would got mine a replica of a sport car. When Abang needed someone he could punch and yell at, that was when i decided i was always good at flying those new toys at him.

Plastic trucks and metal replicas of sport cars would fly in the room where we slept.

Bruises and noises and toys scattered on the floor were once again the indication of our mutual talent, seen and understood by Umie.

5.

“Ma ismuka, ma ismuki, Siapa nama anta siapa nama ente,” the female kindergarten teacher would rhyme in Arabic, followed by a Malay translation. And then she would point to random children, with her thumb lowered.

“Ismi Fairuz, Ismi Fairuz, nama anna Fairuz nama anna Fairuz,” Abang rhymed happily and pointed to Fitri.

The teacher would then explain what our Arabic names meant in Malay. She explained to us of why we had arabic names and no longer using Malay names such as Cempaka, Hang Jebat, Bawang Merah and Bawang Putih. Guided by religious faith, made confident by the Quran, she spoke of God’s messages without fear and her words were rich and tranquilizing and she was so certain that Arabic being the language in which God speaks in Heavens.

While the class was laughing when she made a joke of Fitri’s name having the same meaning as “Selamat Hari Raya”, the class was mesmerized when she explained what my name meant.

“Firdauz maknanya syurga. Syurga pertama dari tujuh syurga yang di cipta Allah,” the kindergarten teacher explained as if i had the best name.

“Woooooooooooooowwwwwww. Fairuz?”

“Fairuz maknanya batu permata. Cantik, dari syurga.”

***

Dan bagai permata yang turun dari syurga, aku mencantikkan bahasa pada tulisan yang biasa ini. Untuk seorang Abang, untuk kasih sayang keluarga yang semakin hari gersang, kamu maafkan aku jika pilihan agama aku, sedikit terlarang.

Syurga untuk kamu. Firdauz.