Kaleidoscope

June was absolutely spectacular!

I know, saying that while lounging in the comforts of my room, clad in my favorite PJs and smelling faintly of Skin Food’s yummy Coffee & Sugar body scrub I love so much makes me feel like the biggest hypocrite. Truth is, June couldn’t have been more insane. I’m still suffering from bruises, blisters and sprains.

But I am unrepentant. If I had the chance – and I will, insyaAllah – I would do it all again.

For the most part, I have FRIM to thank for last month’s many exploits, both below and above sea level. My parents like to call it the perks of “working for the government”. Funny, I thought it was "bloody physiotherapy."

Pulau Redang, 5-8 June 2009

Everything started with a trip to Redang, organized and hosted by Kelab FRIM. Three days and two nights’ worth of snorkeling, island-hopping, barbecues, candat sotong and water adventures with Jogun & Bella the sea-diving monkeys left me feeling like I hadn’t a care in the world.

Redang had a convenient way of making me forget my troubles. All I could think of while on the island was getting off it, into the warm, clear blue that harbored corals and colorful fishes and sea cucumbers and monkeys. The nights were liquid and soothing. How could they not be when you’re lazily swinging in one of the many hammocks hung under the moonlight?

It was the kind of vacation I needed after two grueling months in FRIM, and it was a good chance for me to be with the family I’d been neglecting the past few months.

Gunung Angsi Research Expedition, 9-18 June 2009

My biggest nightmare which took place the day after my return from Redang, was a lot harder to swallow. I’d been forewarned by both supervisors and colleagues that this expedition wouldn’t be easy, but they insisted I should not be left behind.

Nor did I want to be. I’ve always wanted a life as an ecologist, and this would be the perfect opportunity to live one, even if only for a few short weeks.

We didn’t get to camp inside the Angsi reserve. Instead, we were stationed at an agriculture complex at the foothills and we would make our way up into our research plots everyday, shortly after dawn. The research transects were set at the slopes and ridges of the mountain about 300 to 500 meters up. Getting there was often an 80^o climb. I was crawling on my hands and knees just to keep from sliding into the valley below.

Day 1 on the transects nearly left me crying. I was thankful to my teammate Joann for patiently keeping me company during the slow climb, and for teaching me to process live bats – species identification, tagging, weighing, forearm measurements and DNA sampling. I had spent some time with my supervisor learning the basics of bat identification the night before, so I was happy to be able to immediately apply them.

Oh, but I was exhausted! My less-than-competent body was fast showing signs of strain. My screaming nerves and burning muscles were keeping me from sleep. All I could think of was the rest of the week, when I would have to endure the climb over and over again. Lying on a mite-ridden mattress that night, I repeated a supplication my mum taught me in times of peril: La ilaha illa anta subhanaka inni kuntu min azzalimin.

That prayer was my salvation. By the third day I was no longer thinking about going home. I found it easier to stop thinking altogether. Whenever we had to go into the forest, I’d tune out the journey by just looking down and focusing on my climb, reading that prayer whenever I could. Besides, I was getting the hang of bat identification, which I found immensely interesting. Joann was even confident enough to leave me alone to it by day 5 while she moved on to check on the other transects.

There was also geng burung, geng sungai, geng pokok, geng kelulut and geng kumbang with us. We were all using the same transects, all the easier for me to gain knowledge of other ecology research methods. I especially liked geng burung – whose colorful birds really make my day – and geng kelulut, who kept me in high spirits with their easy-going manner and positive outlook.

It was even more enjoyable on the last day, when the transects were soaked by heavy rain, and we were forced to climb up and down a muddy mountain. Every inch of my khaki pants were caked with mud and soil and tree saps from kneeling and sliding, and I had splinters in my hands from accidentally holding on to thorny rattans and sharp twigs. Not to mention the many unfortunate run-ins with kelingkiak, cengkenik, kutu babi and pacat ... Haish!

But you know what satisfied me most? We were waiting for our 4WD to take us back to base camp at the end of the day, when I noticed Dzamir from geng kelulut grinning wickedly at me. I had assumed, from my mud-ridden, sweat-soaked attire that he was laughing at my predicament. The following conversation ensues:

Dzamir: *grin* You're looking great, Sof!

Sofie: Sampai hati ko gelak..

Dzamir: *sober* I’m not laughing at you..

Sofie: Dah tu?

Dzamir: *grins again* Aku paling suka tengok orang berusaha. Ko banyak berusaha..

Joann: Kan? dan dia tak pernah cakap “tak nak.”

Sofie: ... Sebab aku tak nak menyesal..

Fauzan's Wedding, 20 June 2009

I hurt myself getting there.

We'd managed to complete the Angsi expedition and make it back to KL two days before the wedding. But the physical trauma from my exertions were showing one by one. I had sprained both knees, as well as my right ankle. I was bed-ridden for the better part of the next day and the simptoms were getting worse.

It was time to whip out my miracle drug.

By the time I made my way to the wedding that Saturday, my bloodstream was saturated with Ibuprofen, without which I couldn't even stand, let alone drive the three-hour stretch from KL to Ipoh. It was marvelous. I couldn't feel a thing.

Looking back though, I guess the drug had affected me in more ways than one. I wasn't only physically numb; my emotions also took a backseat. I had pictured it to be a rather somber, reflective drive. Instead, I was animatedly chatting with Ann the entire way there. Many times I saw Safura looking at me funny, but I thought nothing of it.

Fauzan's married. I should feel something, but I don't. So what?

We'd arrived late at the wedding hall. The bride and groom were nowhere to be seen, but I'd remembered Fauzan saying something about a costume change for the cake-cutting ceremony. The food was almost catered off the buffet tables by the time we got there, so we took whatever was available. Don't ask me what I had at the wedding though; to this day I could not remember...

We were done with food by the time the bride and groom graced the hall. Ann and I stayed put, hoping Fauzan would look for us in the crowds somehow. But alas, he and Hidayah were drowned out by professional photographers snapping pose after pose. Fauzan was oblivious, so immersed in apparent bliss that he didn't see us inching closer and closer to the stage, my camera poised to capture his moment of realization.

But when he did realize our presence, I couldn't take the picture.

He had this utterly shocked look on his face. I smiled, and the shock mellowed into something else. It was like seeing relief, mixed with warmth and gratitude and sadness and.. something else I couldn't explain. Suddenly it was painful, so I immediately tried lightening things up by asking the couple to pose.

Ah, the darn painkiller was starting to wear off. I was starting to feel again..

Fauzan was being dragged everywhere for pictures, which left him very little time for us. I wish I had the chance to talk to him, but since that wasn't possible, I settled on seeing him happy. He seemed to be having the time of his life, and his happiness heaved a great boulder off my chest. I wished the rest of BTB were there for the occasion. Having just me and Ann present really made it a strange excursion.

We somehow left the wedding in an indescribable mood. I was starting to ache all over; a sign that my painkillers were waning. By the time I'd reach home, I was limping off my right ankle and feeling very grumpy for reasons unknown. I was disappointed I wasn't able to get many pictures with the Couple of the Hour. Even more disappointed when I couldn't load it onto the computer..

But, I will always hold on to that expression Fauzan had when he saw us. It wasn't completely readable, but it was clear enough to let me know that everything will be alright.

Tribute

It's funny how little things that have nothing to do with me tend to affect me these days.

For example, I was driving to the office this morning, listening to Hits FM when I heard Michael Jackson died. I didn't know what I was doing in the next few seconds after that, but by the time I snapped out of it, my front bumper was almost kissing the rear bumper of my supervisor's brand new CRV.

I was beyond shocked. Out of nowhere came this huge sense of loss. For no apparent reason.

I spent the rest of the day - when not in a meeting - glued to the radio stations that played only his music. I sang along to song after song and I realized I knew every word of every single one of them. They made me remember precious bits and pieces of my childhood; something I hadn't thought of for a long, long time.

More than that, I used to believe in his words; in his faith that the world can become a better place. And for feeling this loss, I guess a big part of me still does believe.

I just wished, for all his pain and suffering, that I could let him know..

Aftermath of a conversation

“How long can you stay with someone who doesn’t love you?”

Ah. I wasn’t expecting that one. A tricky question, that is.

I looked at my brother, ten times more composed than the last mess I’d seen him when we first talked about broken hearts. It was something we shared in confidence. Well, being eldest in the family has its perks. I am sole privy to everyone’s darkest secrets. But then, I seem to have a particular understanding with this one. Experience wise.

It’s funny. I had a feeling the question was phrased in reference to my romantic chagrin rather than his own.

My brother wanted me to produce an answer. I wanted to keep him away from it. I wasn’t sure my response could help him; it certainly didn’t help me much. I don’t need him sinking into that sorry pit of despair all over again. So, as always I took the middle path. I shrugged my shoulders and gave him my best who knows expression.

Once bitten twice shy. That was my brother. He began with having so much faith and trust in one single being called a girl. She was, according to him, the very symbol of the rest of his life. She was religious, unbridled yet seemingly subservient. She would be the perfect life partner for someone who desperately dreamed of a family with conserved order. Wife at home with kids and meals and laundry. Husband working hard to support the family.

For four years it was all blue skies and fluffy white clouds. Until the day she happily told him she was getting engaged. To someone else.

The grieving cycle hit him really hard then. He broke, and I’d spent weeks walking him through the denial, the anger, self blame and depression. For a while he lost faith in women, particularly religious ones. He doubted a lot of things about himself, and went rambling on about what he could, should or would have done to save the situation. It was the most frustrating, annoying and painful thing to watch, especially when it’s your own blood.

How long can you stay with someone who doesn’t love you?

It isn’t easy. That question – if you’re distracted long enough to think about it – puts you at a crossroad almost immediately. What was the point in holding on to something that will never belong to you? Bunga bukan sekuntum, kumbang bukan seekor. Walk away and never look back was my father’s immediate advice when he saw my brother’s pathetic condition. Leave her, be a better man and make her pine for you!

An advice so vindictive and ill-dispensed, and yet so understandable coming from a prideful man.

To stop loving was never the question. Was love so cheap and low that it should dissolve at the slightest refusal? The aching in our hearts that moves us to care, to protect and to ensure the happiness of another.. does it exist with such intensity so that we can one day entirely forget? A devotion so easily evaporated – that isn’t love. Not by any stretch of the word.

I wanted my brother to know that it’s okay to continue loving someone. To continue to care. Not so that he can live a miserable life pining and waiting. But so that he may understand that love is a blessing, disguised or otherwise. A feeling heaven-sent to teach him to cherish others other than himself. In the larger scheme of things it didn’t matter that his feelings were not returned. What mattered was that he loved.

A friend once told me that caring makes for a heavy heart. One that becomes difficult to carry. Others felt the need to empty theirs in order to let others in. And then there were those who simply shut the doors and refused all advances.

Funny, but it’s hard for me to see it quite that way. I know my heart is alive and warm only when it is filled with the people and the things I love. I can’t fathom the things I care about ever becoming a burden to me. I believe the heart has infinite space and a vast capacity to hold many things dear. I've never run out of space to let people in and stay. You can love someone. But you can love someone else, too.

When I love someone, that person becomes a part of me for always. Because to love is as much about me as it is about them. It’s about me because I’m the one who loves, regardless of the outcome. And it’s about them because when we love someone, we want what’s best for them. We want what makes them happy, even if that removes us from the picture.

So, to my brother, my answer is this: leave the door open and let them come and go. Continue to love for as long as you want to, as long as you can. Move on if you feel the need and only when the time is right. Your heart may be heavy, but it could never be something you’re not strong enough to carry.

Because to love is to gain a source of strength.

It is only right that the more you love, the stronger you’ll be.