Since the last few weeks, I've been thinking of arwah Tok, my grandma. I woke up one night suddenly thinking of her.. may be I met her in my dream.
Tok was a divorcee. Tokki remarried and live in the next kampung. I was never close to Tokki. Never had the chance to. Tok and Tokki separated long before I was born. But I believe Tok still loved Tokki till the day he died. I was 9 when Tokki passed away, and on that day I saw Tok crying when she was doing the dishes, a silent one but I could see she was throbbing. She tried to hide her tears from everyone. I didn't ask her why. At 9, Tok showed me that sometimes you could never stop loving someone even after you go your different ways.
Tok had 7 children, 4 died, leaving only my Mak, Pak Mat and Ayah Ngah. Tok lived alone in her small house 40m from ours. She came to our house everyday but she never wanted to sleep at ours. Mak repeatedly asked her to move in with us, but she never wanted to leave her house. She even refused to leave the housewhen the kampung was flooded. Tok agreed to leave only when the water started to reach the floorboards and Ayah had to coax her.
Tok’s live was hard.. I could see that. She told me stories of zaman jepung and the hardships that she went through. And she continued to appreciate every little things she had in life. Never ever waste any food in front of Tok, you’d get a long lecture from her if you do so. Tok would recycle almost everything. I remember my sister taught me, if you want to get rid of yesterday’s leftover, even the stale ones, do it when Tok was not around. If not, she would take it and salvage it in anyway she could.
Having 8 + 1 children (my parents adopted my younger bro when I was 6), Mak was very busy taking care of everything in the house, so I turned to Tok for company. I would accompany Tok to Mokcik Ma’s house in a kebun nyior near a river. Tok would have a chat and had a few sireh (betle leaves) with Mokcik Ma. Mokcik Ma was a fine lady, the daughter (or daughter in law?) of Dato’ Amar who founded the kampung. Everytime Tok had her sireh, I would get one too.. the taste was nasty! Mokcik Ma had a well kept fragrance garden, and each time we went there, Tok would join Mokcik Ma picking kenanga (Canangium odorata), melur (Jasminum sambac) and cempaka (Michelia alba). Tok would put some of the flower in her nice little glass jar which contained homemade coconut oil for her hair. Sometimes Tok had fresh flower folded in her sanggul. She would put the rest of the flowers in her folded prayer telekung.
I couldn’t remember when my house started to get piped water supply. But I remember following Tok to get her bath at telaga Mokcik Ating which was the best crystal-clear water well in my kampung. There was (and still is) a well at surau next to Tok’s house but the water was less clear compared to telaga Mokcik Ating. I would help Tok carry a few small ‘klorok’ (a small plastic ‘minyak cap buruh’ container) of water back to Tok’s house from telaga Mokcik Ating.
Sometimes I followed Tok to bathe in the river. And if it was 'tijah' or 'tijing' (small river clam that looked like remis) season, we would go during low tide to look for 'tijah' in the river sand. I would patiently wait in Tok's small kitchen afterwards to get my gulai lemak tijah.
Tok performed all her daily prayers at the surau next to her house. And she had her regular place on the right corner of the front row at the ladies side. I would keep her company at times. They perform 20 rakaat of Terawih during ramadhan at the surau, Tok asked me to pray at the back row because I would stop praying after only a few rakaats, lepak for a while, then start doing my 'job'- I was assigned to arrange kuihs on the plates for 'moreh' during Terawih nights.
Sometimes Tok picked some wild coffee berries that grew beside her house. And I patiently followed through her every steps of making homemade coffee, or ‘kahwe’ as Tok called it. Later in my secondary school I realized where the kahwe was actually ‘kahwah’, the Arabic word for coffee.
Tok was very good at making kuih… one of Tok’s special delicacy was ‘tepung torak’. Tok also made nice baulu.. or as I called it ‘woh ulu’. She used that metal springy thing which we called ‘kepuk telor’. I usually helped Tok to kepok telor, but only half way through.. when I got tired I would sneak out and leave Tok to do everything on her own. Mak told me that in her younger days Tok made kuih for sale… all sort of kuih, some of which I've never heard of.
When I was 10, I looked forward to weekends when I would make plans with my cousin to sleep at Tok’s where we'd have Maggi party. Maggi mee was totally forbidden in my house but not at Tok’s. Tok would help us light the fire to cook Maggi. Tok only had dapur kayu. She refused to change to dapur minyak or dapur gas because she said the food wouldn't taste the same. I loved to eat at Tok’s. Her simple menu of rice and ikan singgang goreng (just fry yesterdays’ ikan singgang) were irresistible! Even having plain rice and keropok at Tok’s tasted out of this world!
I learnt to do many things at Tok’s, things that I did not get to do at home. Once I tried to kopek kelapa (de-husk a coconut) using golok (hatchet) and cut my thumb. That was the first time I knew that I cannot see my own blood. I fainted right after. Ayah came to pick me up after that and I was given a long lecture to add to my pain.
After school I would have my ngaji (Quran class) at Tok De’s, Tok’s sister-in-law. I usually put my Quran, scarf and sarong at Tok’s. I had that sarong ready because if I wore short skirt, I could just wear the sarong on the outside to cover my legs. After ngaji I would make a stopover at Tok’s, leave everything and go straight to wherever the kampung gang wanted to play that day. If I go home after ngaji , I wouldn’t get the chance to sneak out after that.
One day Tok decided to let Manja, her grandniece to come and stay with her. She was from a broken home. She clinged on to Tok 24-7.. I used to find fault with Manja, perhaps out of jealousy. And everytime she cried (she was a crybaby), Tok scolded me and was always on Manja's side. Starting from that time, I no longer spend much time with Tok, for Tok already had someone to care for. A year after that I left for boarding school.
Years passed by and I spent less & less time at home, and lesser time with Tok. Manja no longer lived at Tok's, she returned to her mom. By the time I completed my bachelor degree, Tok was getting weaker. All her friends including Mokcik Ma and TokDe answered the Almighty's call long ago. I remember Tok saying that since all her friends were gone, she should be leaving soon. My younger bro sleeps at Tok's at night. Mak sent food for every meal and slept at Tok's whenever Tok was not well. Tok still refused to leave her house. Not even to a clinic or a hospital. My bro had to ask the doctor to come and check her at home whenever she was ill. On any days that she felt she was stronger, she would walk with her walking stick to the new mosque.
There was a cotton tree next to the old surau. Tok would pick the cotton, separate it from the black seeds and dried it in the sun. She said,
"kalu aku mati kekgi, kapah ni ambik buat kapang, dok payoh beli-beli kapah keda doh"
(If I die, use this cotton during kafan, don't have to buy the cotton from shops)
I was on the verge of tears when she said that.
All my siblings work in Terengganu. I was and still is the only one away from home. Everytime I went home from Penang, Tok said to me,
"kalu mung dengor orang kabor aku sakit ker, mati ker, mung dok soh susoh-susoh la nok balik.. siang ke mung.. mung duk jauh.. wak nyusoh jer nok hungga balik..."
(If they inform you that I'm ill, or if my life ends, don't bother to come home... poor you.. You live so far away. You shouldn't take the trouble to rush home...)
Everytime she said that, I pray to God that I could be with her when she breathe her last.
Ramadhan 1424, Tok was very ill. Tok moved in at Mak's more than two years ago. She could no longer walk. I couldn't wait to go home when Mak told me Tok was very weak and barely ate anything. I arrived home two days before Raya. Tok looked very frail and could barely talk. I spent the few days I had helping mom to feed and bathe Tok.
1 Syawal 1424, I didn't feel like celebrating raya that year but visitors came endlessly. It wasn't the usual raya visit. They came to visit Tok.
3 Syawal 1424, My siblings, cousins, nieces and nephews gathered around Tok since daybreak. Tok was surrounded by all cucu and cicit. Neighbours who had their Subuh prayers at the mosque also drop by and stayed. Mak, Ayah, Cik Ngah, my brother and my brother-in-law sat close to Tok's head repeating the syahadah. I sat with my nieces reading Yasin opposite Tok's feet. Tok's breath getting shorter, my ustaz bro-in-law cited doa and whispered syahadah to Tok. I fought back tears by concentrating on my Yasin. The next thing I know, my bro-in-law said Innalillah. The whole room was silent for a moment, then I heard whispers of innalillah, people were hugging each other and eyes were wet with silent tears.
Tok was loved by everyone who knew her. She left us at the age of 94. Tok played a huge part of my childhood life, she taught me a lot. The smell of kenanga, cempaka and melur still remind me of Tok. I love you Tok.
Alfatihah for Tok.
