ESSAY 7 / page 12

CHILDHOOD MEMORIES
I am an old woman now. My body creaks and hurts every now and then,
especially after a long game of golf, reminding me that I am seventy-seven-
year-old and not seventeen. Very often now, my mind wanders back to my
younger days especially my childhood.
I remember my childhood with great pleasure and happiness. My family lived in
Batu Gajah, a small town in Perak. My father had a shop. He sold everything
from rice spices and sugar to even umbrellas, walking sticks and rubber shoes!
The shop was next to the market. All of us children helped out after school. It
was great fun to weight to goods, pack them, collect money and return the
correct change. Every customer became a friend. This was sometimes a problem
because everyone knew us. If we were naughty or out late somewhere,
somebody would quickly report to my father and get us into trouble!
I also remember my school days with great affection. We were colour blind to
things like race, religion and the colour of our skin. I had good friends from all
races who came freely to my house. During holidays, it was often breakfast in
Rama’s house, lunch in Dollah’s house and dinner in mine. Rama’s mother
made delicious thosai, nasi lemak in Dollah’s house was unforgettable and of
course my mother made the best noodles! My school friends and I still keep in
touch. We are still close. I have attended their children’s weddings and
unfortunately, some funerals as well.
My memories are of a time and place that was loving and sharing; that was
happy and joyful and which was also full of hope. Even when some of us went
to university, we shared rooms together. When Dollah fasted during Ramadan,
it was my duty to wake him up since we were sharing a house. When he got
married, all of us former schoolmates were there helping with the preparations.
When Rama’s mother died in an accident, we wept together with him.
This is the face of my country that I remember and love. This is the face of my
country that I hope will never change.
Memories are precious. Some of them are kept in my photo albums but all of
them are in my heart.
WORD POWER
Creak: the noise made by the joints in the body, when a person moves
Affection: love