Wednesday, September 23, 2009
"I used to take bus sekolah to school when I was in primary school. The bus aunty has been driving the same 5551 bus for almost a decade yet it was still brand yellowish. The thick black smoke never fails to disappoint me. I think she sayang the bus like her own son. Sometimes I would sit in front beside her driving seat. Looking at those long gear and her gloves. Sometimes I would sit at the back with others. Worse when it comes to peak time. I would be squeezed like a sardine. If I’m lucky, I will share the maroon color seat with the other two school children. Well, it supposed to be a two-seater.
Catch the bus at 6.40am and reach school at 7, that was my daily routine from Monday till Friday. I was school prefect for two years. I regretted not wearing the blue uniform earlier. Hurry myself for morning assembly and I will start to move my mouth, “Negaraku..Tanah Tumpahnya DarahKu..Rakyat Hidup”. My class teacher will then taking out her yellow file and start ticking for attendance and she was my class teacher during my last year in the school. I still remember she taught us Bahasa Melayu.
Rather than just concentrating her dedication in the school, she took some of her personal time to offer us tuition. I took up Science. Science was never easy to me. Pemejalwapan, Kondensasi, Siratan Makanan, Rantai Makanan.
The school bell rings. And sometimes, the bell became a toy for the prefect in charge. Whether he wanted it a long ring or a short ring. Bus aunty was not around. I try to locate the bus with the number 5551 but I couldn’t find it. My tired looking class teacher came to me and she offered to send me back home. I declined at first. I rather walk home 20 minutes surviving on a RM20 Bata school shoe. She insisted it was the same road that passes by my house. In the end, I accepted her offer.
From that day onwards, it has become a routine. I enjoyed her ride back home. Her car was full with Memory Lane fragrance. I think it was from the small bag full of flowers. That was signature of her car. I wished I could drive her Kancil back. I could memorise when she starts to accelerate and changing the manual gear. There was a N sign with some digits. She used to told me, “Kereta tak boleh naik. Kena gena gear atas”. And I replied “Guna gear 3 atau 4, cikgu”.
It was a special day. I sat beside her during a class photoshoot. Never came across of this for the past years. Maybe our batch was too budak baik on that particular year. I graduated from that school with 4A and 1C result. The culprit for the C was Science. Maybe it was fate.
One year past. A friend of mine whom enter the same secondary school came to me and told me. She apparently suffers some kind of disease. And that time all I knew was demam and pening kepala. I told my mum that I wanted to go to her house and pray for her. My mum declined. My mum told me that I was having exam at that time and she doesn’t want these to affect my studies. Down and sad. I couldn’t see her for the last time.
I miss the time when she drives me back home. I miss the time when I cakap kosong with her. My bahasa was more fluent. I spoke bahasa all the time in school. She WAS my best teacher that I ever had. I felt she was my second guardian."
Selamat Hari Raya Aidilfitri, Cik Rosliani.
