Currently Playing: Augustana-Boston.
So the theme for today’s entry is children, for lack of any intellectual/academical/articles of substance to write or comment on. I could vent my frustration at the current Hamas-Fatah crisis in the Middle East, the assasination of a top Hamas leader as he stepped out of a mosque, the continuing threats of assasination by Fatah’s militant faction on Hamas’ leaders, Mahmoud Abbas’ refusal to cooperate with Ismail Haniyeh and his plan to disengage the current Hamas government to be replaced with a temporary one while calling for another election, and I could also impatiently point out that an internal conflict is the last thing the Palestinians need at this juncture, but I’m thoroughly tired right now, so it comes down to children.
Why children?
Those who know me best are bound to know how I react to the charms of children. I have absolutely no immune system safeguarding myself from that little yet lethal weapon they use on me. Resistance is futile-a toothy grin and an outstretched hand, and BAM, that’s it. I am theirs to have and to utilise. I suppose its a personal weakness I’m just going to have to deal with. Not that I have a problem with it, but when you have work to do and obligations to fulfil, curious queries/endless questions/requests for piggy-back rides all naturally need to take a back seat, but I just can’t. say. NO.
And so today I found myself in that situation again. I walked into Skills class and found 2 children badgering Azlan,a fellow classmate. Azlan must have thanked his lucky stars I showed up because he apparently saw an escape route in me and promptly said "Pergi main dengan akak" or something to that effect. Immediately, reflexes told me to arm myself and start putting my defences up.
It failed. Disastrously.
Half an hour or so later, I had the girl on my lap while her younger brother wanted to play cars with me. I gave my handphone for them to play with, and that worked for a bit. Once discussions started though (the fascilitator, Sis Raihan, didn’t have the heart to shoo them out of the class), they wouldn’t leave. The younger boy kept on insisting I play with him right in the middle of a group discussion. He tugged and tugged…I eventually had to ‘promise’ that I’d play with him after class, and so he left with his sister. Since the chances of seeing them again are minimal, I’m not feeling too good with myself right now, even though what I did was justified and out of necessity. Its a nagging discomfort.
It happened again tonight. My family have been having weekly iftars together at my grandmother’s house. It works on a rotation basis since my family’s pretty big, so tonight was my 7th uncle’s turn to organise it. There were about 6 cousins of mine running around shouting and screaming during the Terawikh prayers, so my sister and I had them moved to another room. Things got worse. Handbags were tipped over, dumbells were made playthings, bedsheets were rumpled-it was a jungle. We’re talking young innocent beautiful beings here. Or so I thought. My sister gave up and after clearing up what she could, left the room.
I tried to keep my cool. The littlest is a 5 year old sweetheart who was fiddling with one of my auntie’s headscarf, so I had her sit and helped her with getting it to fit her head properly, whilst trying to get the boys to be quiet at the same time. Once we were done, she looked like an angel, and I told her so. She went walking about, saying "I’m wearing a tudung and I’m beautiful.." How can one’s heart not break?
15 minutes later, my sister came back to take a peek at how I was handling things. The general scenario was that I had the littlest on my lap while the twin girls were at each of my side. The boys and the oldest girl were sitting across me, their eyes transfixed on my face. It was like a halaqah of sorts. Aunts and uncles passed by and commented on the miracle of having these rowdy kids so notoriously known for their primitive-like behaviour, actually tamed and made docile.
The secret?
Become a Storyteller.
Choose your story well. In my case, ghost stories worked because it was told as requested. One of the younger boys apparently has a positive fascination for the Unseen World.
Also, involve yourself in the story. This means immerse yourself fully in what you’re telling, be animated, use the right emotions, drop your voice at the appropiate places, and finish with a dramatic, chilling effect.
By the time I was getting into the car to go home, I left my uncles with 6 screaming, frightened children. I had to chuckle as Abah drove away because Ami Salleh, an uncle with 4 of those 6 children, wagged his finger at me with the most exasperated face I’ve ever seen him in. I hope he sleeps well tonight. Doesn’t look like his children will.
In retrospect though, tonight’s episode is something I don’t regret, as nerve-wracking as it was. I guess I can now begin to see that loving children doesn’t equally mean that I can be a good mother one day (barring the fact that I don’t die a spinster) and that reality reared its head to show me how things really are. Motherhood requires a lot of sacrifice. I hope I can learn to be so selfless one day. Insya Allah. Who knows?
Thoughts are coming back on certain things that made me smile. The youngest on my lap, the twins burying their heads on my shoulder every time the ‘ghost’ reveals itself, the boys jumping up and down asking me to tell another one, the girls then pulling me by the hand everywhere they went in the house afterwards for fear I’d be lost amongst the many other members of the family present, one of the little boys saying he had a crush on me (ok how wrong but cute is that), the whole lot of them not wanting me to go when I had to…
I suppose the best would have to be the twins, Syaza and Shadia, taking me by both hands and asking ”Can you babysit us?"
I really have to learn how to say no.
Enough said here.
