My friend Emmett said that Komtar is a dangerous place. (I mentioned Emmet a lot i my blog aint it? U guys must be wondering who he really is. The Cullen or Butterfingers. Haha Go Figure.)
Oh, really? I went there alone last semester.
And I managed to catch the glimpse of life. What it truly means.
I was born in a moderate family.
Sometimes I DO wish my parents were a bit (a lot) richer so I can shop at Gurney and buy all the “NEW ARRIVAL” instead of the 70% off bin at Queensbay. Or maybe I can dine and spent like 20 bucks on coffee and sandwhich in Starbucks. Or maybe If my parents were more of the affluent type I can just go shop whenever i want to instead of waiting for every 1st of the month.
heck ya and I asked for an iPhone 4 from my Ummi for my 19th birthday.
But when you see life you start counting ur blessing. And there at Komtar I learnt something.
I told you haven't I, that I feel very very lucky?
Haha, I feel likeI’m writing a reflection.
“Write a reflection bout the trip to Komtar.” DAFT.
Ok back to business.
Know what? I wish I were a photographer. But I have this really sick photography skill.
Cuz if I were one, it would have been lot easier to me to tell all of u what I saw then.
A picture speaks a thousand words.
That afternoon was hot. I was walking alone somewhere near Komtar; near the skybridge that will lead you to Chowrasta.
I climbed up the staircase. My shirt was drenched with sweat. I was thirsty, too. I wished I had a car. But if I were to I have to deal with the traffic, and it’s a lot more awful.
I wished that I have no interest whatsoever to this part of Penang. But curiosity led me there.
As i was thinking bout what my mom was cooking at home and whether my friends have done their Language Development homework I heard a cry.
I looked.
There the little soul was, crying, begging for his sister not to live him alone there.
“Kak, don’t leave chek(me) here. Chek takut.” He said in tears, in his 3yo Penang-saturated accent.
He was a child so young. So fragile. And he was there in a torn shirt. Frail and dark-skinned, he looked like he hadn’t bathe in days. And I wasn’t trying to be funny.
He was just a child of 3.
His sister, about 7, seemed to ignore her.
“Aku kata dok la sini sat. Toksah kacau aku. Sat lagi aku mai la balik.” I said stay. Dont disturb me. I will be back.
And I stayed there still, tears on my eyes. I couldn’t say or do anything. My brother was of the same age. He eats a lot. Ice cream and candy. Chocolate. I’m planning to treat him pizza once I got home.
 |
| me eating a RM50 something meal for one night till i cudn't take it anymore and there was this poor soul who cant even afford a RM5 nasi kandar |
This boy looked like he hadn’t had a propel meal for days.
He was still crying.
The sister was annoyed. She pinched his stomach, the way Dad would do to me when I didn’t finish my homework as a schoolgirl. Or the way Madam Yasmin pinches Nabil when he sleeps in class.
She was leaving already.
I spoke up.
“Awat ni?” Me trying to sound like a penangite. What happened, I said.
I could feel the lump in my throat.
Can I cry?
Don't Schu, not here.
Came a lady, about 20-plus maybe.
They looked somehow related to me, I began to wonder whether she was the mom.
but she told me something else.
she told me just leave them.
and let them be.
I CAN'T. HE'S A CHILD OF 3.
well.
He has a junkie for a father.a drug addict. The mother died of terminal illness.
The dad, he works somewhere near there and it all comes down for his 7 year old sister
to mind him.
it happens everyday, dear. they're used to it.
this is their routine.
they encounter it EVERY SINGLE DAY.
Hunger. Lonesome. Cold. Tears. Scared.
EVERYDAY.
I almost faint.
I always adore children.
Fascinated by them.
They teach me stuffs.
And the pain on his eyes, boy it was too much.
i left. there was nothing i could do. and that was when i told myself: I am grateful God made me choose to be a teacher.
that way I can educate these kids. and help eradicate poverty.
EASIER WAY TO DONATE! just click!
i went again to Komtar a couple of times after that. And I never did see them again.
i'm just the passive observer.