Some mothers are kissing mothers and some are scolding mothers, but it is love just the same and most mothers kiss and scold together ~ Pearl S. Buck.
Fatimah bt Othman: 1929 - 15.6.2000/12 Rabiul Awal 1421)
My mother, Fatimah was known as Ne all her life. She was Abang Ne or Ab Ne to her siblings and close family members younger than her. She was Fatimah in her identity card and all official documents but never once did I hear anybody calling her Fati, Timah or Mah as is normally the case if your name is Fatimah. She was Ne to my father and to my elder sis, Idah and I, Mak Ne. To her grandchildren, she was Tok Ne. I think one or two elder brothers and daughters-in-law also called her Mak Ne.
Of Bugese descendant, from Sulawesi and somehow was related to some Daengs, I however have no recollection of my grandmother ever visiting her homeland. Wonder if the term Abang has something to do with that.
A Muarian, my mother got married when was 22 years old and that was in 1951. She bore 13 children for my father, almost one year after the other. There were breaks of course but I never get to learn why but mostly we were born close to each other. When was birth control introduced in Malaysia? I did a search on the internet and came up with naught. I also wondered if my father ever practised coitus interruptus.. (Lisa cannot imagine old people or parents having sex. I told her we are just old, NOT dead.)
Four children were born in successive years 1952 - 1955. A break and in 1957, another child was born. Years 1959 - 1964 saw her giving birth to six more children. A break again and finally the last two, 1966 and 1967. All the children were home births and I remember the midwife or bidan kampung (not government midwife) by the name of Mak Tipah (May Allah bless her soul as well.) However, my mother finally gave birth to my youngest sister at the General Hospital, Muar. I remember clearly the bananas, pisang embun, eggs and two slices of white bread that my father used to bring to my aunt's house after his hospital visits. My mother was 41 years old then.
I don't remember much of my mother in my earlier years as I was brought up by my paternal aunt. I can still remember my aunt grumbling about bringing me up when I was small but that it would be my parents that would later reap the benefits.. (I guess that is why I feel reluctant to adopt). Anyway, it was my aunt that I called emak or mak and my own mother Mak Ne.
We didn't live far off each other. If from my aunt's house going to my mother's, we said, Nak pegi baruh and from my mother's house back to my aunt's, Nak balik darat.
When my aunt died in late 1971, I went back to stay with my parents. My cousin, married and with child was also willing to have me live with her but somehow it was decided that I stay with my parents. My parents moved into my aunt's house as they were staying at my grandmother's house then.
Thus began my life with my parents and siblings. My mother was a housewife and almost everyday went to the market. It was within walking distance. My mother was also not a talkative person and I don't recall having any meaningful mother-daughter conversations when I was young. I suppose it is common in many family environments, even now.
She cooked well and she could also sew baju kurungs for us. She rarely or never scolded us but when she was in her berleter moods, all us girls got it and then it was only when she was mad with my father. Only after I left home to work did I begin to have quiet conversations with her. I grew up believing that she didn't love me as much as she did my other sisters. I began working on bridging the communication gap and mending relationships between us. I didn't earn much when I first started work in KL but almost 50% of my pay would be sent to her monthly, likewise any bonuses that I received. There were quite a number of electrical items that I bought for her as well. Anything that I think she would like, I would buy for her.
I'd like to think that my mother loved all her children. No hugs, no kisses and very few scoldings. Loving 13 children of different moods and temperament must have been quite difficult for her. She had my father to contend with too.. However, what was most glaring to all of us was that she really loved my eldest brother and he could twist her round his little finger. Another really loved one was one of my elder sisters, and it broke my mother's heart when my sister married a 'married' man and by the simplest nikah witnessed by the Tok Kadi and my father.
After few years of staying at my aunt's house, my father had to sell the house as there was, my youngest uncle who was also entitled to the estate. We then moved back to stay with my maternal grandmother. Half of the proceeds of the sale went to extending my grandmother's house to fit us, my youngest aunt and family. My grandmother lived in the original part of the house. The house wasn't big but enough to house us comfortably. There were only two bedrooms side by side. My parents stayed in the second room. The first room was used by us, the children. I mean, us individually and not all of us too. I had a share of this room though. At most, two would share this room. I was using this room alone. Any children that happened to be the 1st to come home and had a spouse, would be entitled to this room so the current occupant would sleep outside.
My mother was very accommodating I suppose. Come to think of it, I have never heard her grumbling. My children miss her so and they think of her as a very kind grandmother. She didn't have any expectations of us and was just happy to have any of her children coming home for visits, anytime of the day.
I started to address her as mak after my son was born. It was awkward, not awkward bad but awkward embarrass. Prior to this, it was mak when I spoke of her to my siblings. She would eat almost anything that I cooked whenever I was home - then I was still working and working on cook shows too. I miss cooking for her..
My mother had asthma for as long as I can remember. We would just go the clinic that she frequented and asked for her wheezing and asthmatic tablets from the counter just by mentioning her name. My father would wake us up in the middle of the night and asked us to gently massage my mother's back until her breathing calmed. When her health started to weaken due to other ailments, (we didn't know until much later - she didn't complain and we focused too much on our father who had a heart problem so it was almost too late to help my mother) it was more of managing the pain. She had high blood pressure and kidney problems. When her stomach started to bloat, she had to be hospitalised to drain the water and it was painful to watch as she had to go through these treatments many times over the last few years of her life. But never at any time did anyone of us hear her moan or complain of pain. She was very quiet, as quiet as one can be.
My greatest regret in my mother's last two years of her life was failing to support her financially. I had quit work for a few years by then. Ja also quit because he was disheartened. Later he joined a friend and worked on their own. Any money they earned was spent to pay the staffs first, office rentals, utilities etc. He and his partner ended up not getting anything most months. So we didn't have any money to spend on my mother. (When my father had his surgery in 1998, money was still aplenty..) It was left to my other sister to take care of the financial side.
By the time my mother was ill, my sister that married a married man has come back to stay with my parents. My brother-in-law died and she had to let go of her house. So she and her children came to stay with my parents. My adopted sister inherited the front room of the house, my sister the second room and my parents moved to a smaller third room (built when my father's cousin came to stay with them). Another sister decided to build a bigger room for my parents and they moved into it, complete with their own private door so as not to have to go through the whole house to get to the front door. The room also had another door connecting it to the main house.
Anyway, it was financially hard for my father. I had by then stopped supporting them monthly. My other siblings continued to support them but they had their own commitments to also take care of- children, loan and everything else.
During the last few months of her life, she was bedridden. By then, my sister had placed a bed in a corner at the lounge at the front part of the house for her. She ate very little. There was one time when she ate only rice, sambal belacan and fried egg. She didn't want to eat anything else. We would sit with her, gently massage and rub her legs, her hands and anywhere else to comfort her. My dad left it to the children to comfort her..
My mother first had her treatment at Batu Pahat General Hospital. She went through few treatments at this hospital. She was also admitted to Muar General Hospital for low blood sugar and almost went into a coma. The other hospital that she was admitted to was Pantai Medical Centre, Melaka. There was a lot of hospital trips for her treatments but she tolerated it all. A week before she died, she asked to be sent to the hospital. I remember visiting her. She wanted to move her bowels and I pushed her wheel chair to the cubicle and the nurse wanted a specimen. It was difficult for her and it was difficult for me. I am not much of a help when it comes to smells. I became nauseous. She laughed because she knew me so well..
The night she died, I was not by her side. I was at home in Petaling Jaya and earlier Anoy, my younger sister had called and asked me to recite Yassin for my mother. I did and whilst reciting it after Maghrib prayer, I received a call from her to say that my mother had just passed away.
We drove back to Muar that night. I drove for the first time, long distance and at night. Ja somehow had a massive headache and it was midnight. We bundled Eman, Lisa and also Snowball (my mother knew this cat and I had brought her home few times prior to this) into the car and I just drove. The connecting road from the Tangkak toll house to the nearest town was newly resurfaced then and there was no white lines painted yet. It was driving in total darkness except for the car headlights. I thank Allah for the strength and courage that He bestowed on me that night.
My sisters and I took part in giving her the last bath and putting on the kain kapan. I remember my father feeling so lost.. and me holding his hand when her coffin was lowered into the ground. And I remember my mother loving my father so, warts and all.
Ya Allah, ampuni segala dosa-dosa ibuku, besar dan kecil dan tempatkanlah rohnya bersama roh orang-orang yang beriman, di sisiMu.
