In no time at all, I was taken down memory lane, and here I am, typing away.
I've noticed how the sound of a ringin phone sometimes triggers my bewildered memory as if at once, I'm sucked into the time zone and land fiercely bum-first thinking, dwelling and thinking about things in the past.
I can’t remember accurately the date of the incident but, it was the day when my mother and I were preparing dishes for tomorrow’s ‘sahur’, first of Ramadan, 1999. The phone rang and it was Kak Rashidah, my best friend’s big sister whom I used to be so scared to be around with. She had such a reserved look with an invisible billboard on her forehead stated “Don’t mess with me” and an additional big mole next to her right brow definitely completed the whole package.
It was then an extreme surprise to having her calling me, but the very minute I heard her voice; I knew something wrong had happened to Afifi.
This entry shall be all about him.
Afifi and I were close friends since Standard Six and the fact that we didn’t share any biological gender similarities was out of the question. I did have many girlfriends, but truth to be told, having a male species as a close friend is a lot easier. I am hugely ecstatic to say that I was pompous to be around him.Bill Gates was not in our vocabulary, but if it did exist back then, Afifi would suit the profile. He had this thick black rimmed spectacle that he wore in class because he was a short-sighted which sometimes hung low on top of his sharp nose. Even though most of the time he was a neat freak, but when in class, his thick black hair was a mass of messy bundle twigs. He along with another friend of mine, Cheok, used to be punished by the teachers because most of the time they would be engrossed in chess despite of having to complete mathematic questions or writing an essay.
More than twice his set of chess was taken away by Mr. Sheikh, our class teacher but did he stop? No way. He was too good in chess as well in his studies, so the teachers had to have their eyes blindfolded.
By the end of 1994, both of us received flying colors in our UPSR examination and were then accepted to different boarding schools. I had ripples in my stomach knowing that we hardly had an opportunity to meet up as often as we liked because his father was transferred to another state and his new school was hundreds of kilometers from mine. However, regardless of the distance and all, our friendship kept blossoming along with the telephone bills.
Distance is indeed an enemy in a relationship.
Some say that life is cruel and unfair, and that was what in my mind when I found out one day in 1997 from a friend of mine that Afifi was diagnosed with leukemia!
Just imagine, Leukemia. The L word.
I was totally shocked and recalled the way he comforted me when I called him right away after the news saying that he being sick was fated and no one could do anything. I was frantic in the phone slightly blaming him of not telling me about his bad health. I know, I know, I was abit stupid at the time, largely thinking only about myself, of how hurt I was not being informed sooner than later.
The very minute the school holiday started, I rode a bus and headed to his new house to visit.The first time I laid eyes on him after three years, I had to recuperate myself and be totally in control in favor of not disappointing him in what ever reason.
Obviously he knew that I was going to be shocked, seeing him totally different. Leukemia had changed him tremendously. His big frame had shrunk, his shoulder blades were showing and staring at them, I thought of pouring water onto the deep curves. He has turned into a skinny boy with huge head hanging above his frail body.
He was chirpy and clearly happy to see me but I nearly wept seeing the black spots under his eyes and also those purplish needles’ marks on both of his arms. He must have suffered so badly!
Did he show any sign of pain in front of me? Nope. Not once he whined. Instead of succumbing to any stories of his series of radiation and medication, he showed me newspapers cuttings covering about his success in PMR.
One of the headlines, “Leukemia boy achieved 9As on hospital bed” and he was potrayed mostly in all major newspapers. He later had it all photocopied and sent it to me, the one I still have until now.
That day, he also cracked a joke about how he did better than I even though he took the exam in hospital.
Leukemia is not only a foe, but also a determiner in creating a very tough, positive minded human being which had accept his fate and believed that God had installed the best for him ‘up there’. I remembered how I kept blinking my teary eyes watching him animatedly telling about how he missed school and simply missed the ordinary life that he once faced without pain and difficulties.
His expression precisely at that moment is what I have whenever I think of him.
After the shocking phone call from Afifi’s sister, I hastily ran to my room with my mother worriedly tailing after me asking what happened. I managed to mutter “Afifi’s gone” I think.
Thing is, that call from Kak Rashidah transmitted the end of his misery. I was crestfallen but I knew God loves him alot more.
I couldn’t stop crying, thinking how he had lead his life in pain and torture, and how he easily smiled and shrugged saying that it was all part of Allah’s test upon him. That was exactly Afifi I knew. He was a time-resistant proof that no matter what the circumstances, you have to hold your head high and face the world the best you can.
I learn that from him. One who was a down to earth psyche yet taught me so much. Taught me to appreciate life and be strong even though life betrays you.
Oh well. He is by His side now. There's nothing more to worry about.
May he rest in peace. Amin.
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