Remembering Shauqina

Chapter 8: Secondary days - and we meet again

CHAPTER 8 : Secondary Days – and we meet again

 I could not look at my mum as I walked out of the car. I was angry.Very angry. Not even the new uniform and the new shoes and the new schoolbag and new textbooks could make me happy. I hated the colour of the uniform - it looked like an ugly green tent over me. Turquouise, indeed!!! I hated the tudung (a headgear which goes over the head and covers the chest, but leave an opening for the face only). lt was sooo cumbersome!l! Putting me at a madrasah (a school which offers Islamic curriculum), to make me a better Muslimah - what was my parents thinking!!! Better Muslimah, indeed!!! And I hate this old, run-down school!!! It must be at least half a century old! Oh! Why couldn't I go to a national school, like any other Singaporean girl!!! I kept thinking of my best friend in primary school, Sara and went green with envy, picturing her in her new, green, Tanjong Katong Girls' uniforrn - Oh God!! Do my parents think that I am so 'Godless' that they must send me here to know more about Islam?!

 "Ezie...you are now a young woman...every parents would want their daughter to grow up a beautiful Muslimah who is shalehah (pious). We  fear the national school will be a bad influence to you..(my father shuddered at this point)...when I saw them at the shopping centre..MasyaAllah! God forbid! And the uniform...( he shuddered again)..here in this madrasah, your  aurat is protected, you will have good role models....you will be better than the rest, because your grades were really good, Ezie...."

 Only my father calls me Ezie, everybody else, call me Eza. I never could answer back to my parents, especially my father. I am, I must admit, a father's daughter. It is not that they would bark back at me if I answered them. It's just not in me to answer back to any older people - maybe my parents have somehow psyched me when I was young, or sort of cast a spell on me so that my mouth remained shut in front of elders..Yes! That must be it...but the matter is settled. No argument. No tears. Just frustration and a deep sense of injustice.. . .

 A loud, out-of-place curse rang in the air.

 I stopped in my tracks and almost burst out laughing. Good role models, indeed! The girl almost bumped into me and ran past me as fast as possible. I wanted to ask for directions but she was already screaming at the top of her lungs. Good role models huh?? I smiled triumphantly to myself. You were wrong abah!

 "Nisah!!"

 "Aikk!!! Dilah! Eh!!! Lucky we met, quick, it's almost seven forty and the bell will ring any minute!! You wouldn’t want detention on our first day of school right???"

 Oh! So that was what the commotion was all about!! I quickened my pace too and actually broke into a soft run, pulling up my long garment slightly higher, a bit fearful, not knowing what will happen if I was late. A notice board labeled 'CCA' caught my attention and I quickly glanced at the list of extra curriculum activities offered by the madrasah. There were separate CCAs for boys and girls. The boys had the normal choice of soccer, badminton, basketball and athletics. I eagerly looked down the CCA list for girls. Oh! The madrasah offered netball, of all things! I hated netball. I thought the person who invented the game was a sadistic, mean person who was retarded and could not walk nor ran. How would you explain the silly rule of getting the ball, yet not being able to run with it!  How annoying! And they offered captain's ball, a childish game, surely!! You score a goal by passing the ball to a girl on a chair, when she catches the ball, a goal is scored. I was looking almost desperately at the list when a tall shadow fell behind me and a deep voice drawled:

 "l don't think they have hockey here..,,

 I turned and stared at who else, but Zak, who was still looking at the list, a smile forming on his face. His voice has broken and he must have grown a thousand inches during the holidays for he definitely towered above me now. Six months of separation and here he is, right in front of my nose. It was surreal. He looked more matured in the long-sleeve madrasah shirt and long pants plus the songkok on his head. He surely looked different. Gone were his wavy bangs, maybe hidden under his songkok. I was so flabbergasted, that the wind must have been knocked out of me for I just stared at him, having to LOOK UP.

 . "Assalamualaikum,.Eza!"

 I was still staring UP at him when he looked DOWN at me with amused eyes.

 "You must answer a person's salam, you know...,'

 "Er..Waalaikumsalam....you look different....but, I thought you were in Trengganu!!"

 The smile was wiped out of Zak's face immediately. His voice was softer when he continued.

 "My grandmother passed away...my parents..,,(he paused, and his voice was even softer, almost inaudible)...,they are - they are divorced.....my mother took all of us back to Singapore.. . so, here we are. ..,,

 I did not know what to say. My mouth must have gone agape like it used to do in our younger days.

 "I am sorry...I would never have guessed...'

 He took a deep breath.

 "It was inevitable. My mother and father were like the earth and the moon - they are so different! They quarreled about anything under the sun...there was always something not right, not satisfactory to my father.....matters came to a head when in Trengganu, my mother found out he actually has a second wife..Imagine! He even has a son! My stepbrother....it was too much for my mother....it was the last straw.. ....."

 Who would have guessed! All these years! I still remembered his beautiful, sweet, gentle mother.

 “Why this madrasah?’ I asked, still curious.

 Zak looked at me, again the amusement in his eyes.

 “I have cousins who are here. They said this is the best madrasah in Singapore as it offers a balanced curriculum for both secular and Islamic subjects. And you?”

 Somehow, that question irked me and I looked at him almost angrily. He put out his hands, like the countless times he has done that to me.

 “Whoa! Okay, okay, Don’t explode, alright? We just met!”

  I wasn’t laughing, but I was lost for words. For once. His voice broke the uncomfortable silence.

 "You look different in your tudung...almost did not recognize you....(he smiled softly at this point, then looked away) Am glad to see a familiar face...."

 He got the better of my curiosity.

  "So, how did you recognize me?"

 He laughed.

 "You were running just now. I remember. THAT, has not changed!"

 Not only did Zak grow more matured, he sure grew more talkative too! Did he remember the permanent scar at my shin too? The thought of that suddenly made me blushed and I looked away, disgusted at that uncontrollable reaction and also at the fact that Zak was really laughing now. I was about to retort when I saw a smiling older student come up to us. I swallowed when I saw his name tag - Head Student Leader. Why was he smiling?

 "Assalamualaikum brotherl"

 "Waalaikumsalaml"

 They shook hands firmly.

 "l am Halim. You and your sister better go to Arafah Court now for the assembly, or your Houses will get demerit points!"

 "Er, she's not my sister."

 Halim frowned.

 "Brother, then why are you talking to a non-muhrim one to one and so closely together??"

 Both of us immediately took about three steps backwards. 'Brother' Halim was clearly finding it difficult to stifle his laughter.

 "Okay, okay...first day offence...I  can understand that..now scoot..eh!eh! You and me go first, brother...sister, you follow behind us!! "

 I meekly nodded my head. That was embarrassing! Me and Zak, brothers and sisters? Sheesh!l! Rules and regulations: Better read up that Student Handbook fast before I ended up in some detention class, or worst.