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That’s what Danny, my nephew who is expecting his first baby next month, used to call Uncle Yanto, when he was a toddler. Yan got married to my youngest sister, Pid (Rafidah), when Alman’s mum, Izwin, was 5 years old, and took her away to live in Gold Coast. They have a daughter, Izurein, and the family has settled down in a lovely suburb in Perth.
We used to call him McGuiver because he was great at DIY, would fix things we got stuck with like home gadgets and pipes, fantastic at origami, at making faces….all the creative, magical stuff. The kids used to be thrilled by his dramatization. He was spontaneous with character imitation and joked around with them a lot. The neighbours’ kids would join in, trailing after him like he was the Pied Piper. In fact, he used to envy the clowns in the amusement parks as he felt he could do just as well, have fun and earn good money at the same time. Once he offered the shopkeeper in a shopping mall in Gold Coast, to sing a song for a discount. The blessed old man agreed, Yan sang and got his discount. My kids love to reminisce the camping nights with Uncle Yan in our living room, with tents made from my king size flat sheets. Izwin has been wondering lately how she was going to make the very same tents for Alman with only fitted sheets in the house nowadays.
Yan was home recently on holiday or rather, more specifically, to spend time with his mum who is not too well these days. He spent a few days at our home, during which time Alman was first heard to cackle and gurgle with laughter. I don’t know who was more exhausted after their bantering, grandpa or baby, as both lay asleep side by side in the middle of the living room. Yan keeps himself fit with regular gym workouts back in Perth, but takes a break from routine whenever he is home on holiday, entertain his food cravings and would allow the kilos to creep up. He would get back into shape though once holiday is over and, in his Aussie casuals, looks so much younger than his ex-schoolmates from Peel Road whom he gets together with during the holiday trips home. Those days he and the gang used to do Saturday morning jogs in the Ampang area where we live now, all through Jalan U Thant, where they would pick up newspapers and bread hanging on the fences of those huge houses and trade them off for breakfast at the mamak stall.
He is still my McGuiver too. He fixed my wire netting on the back porch grill where the workers did a sloppy job, putting to rest my agony and anxieties over the cats squishing their way through onto the porch, and most of all, ending my antagonism at the other guys at home who had been procrastinating and ignoring my pleas to get the darn thing done. He also terminated the long suffering drip from the old shower head in the bathroom downstairs and changed fused bulbs in the house. Alman loves brightly lit rooms. I imagine a fairy dancing under the lights as Alman, staring unblinkingly at them, smiles and squeals.
He didn’t get to trim my plants this time, but showed me exactly how to prune some of them. I wish I can get to see the lavender blooming in his garden this raya, but perhaps Alman is still too young to travel so far and I’m not quite ready to leave him even for a week.
If ever he decides to resettle in Malaysia, Yan could make a living out of his DIY skills alone. But he is not likely to as he has lived overseas for the major part of his life and finds it hard to readjust, much as he loves his homeland and family here. The humid weather, haze, traffic jams, unruly drivers, the jostling at LRT stations, taxi drivers swarming at passengers getting down at terminus, salesgirls following him around the store, dirty public toilets….top the list of unbearable items. And what has happened to his beloved Pasar Seni…he said it is a shambles today. For Yan loves to revisit places where he used to work or hang out during his young days, but after half a day of city romping, he would come home quite depressed. He wants to have a word with the Minister of Tourism and suggested a panel of Malaysians now living overseas to talk about these issues on tv. Sample questions…how does the Minister expect the mat salleh tourist to use the public toilet without toilet paper, has the Minister ever seen what the hose in the toilet looks like or touched it, how often are the enforcers checked up on. Alman’s smiles always quickly lighten up his mood again.
Yan is only voicing what we ourselves in Kuala Lumpur are much aware of and have become rather complacent about. Well, most of us, including people like me who do not go out much any more and who try to do everything I need to within the confines of the shopping mall…speaking of which brings up the subject of rising crime rates. The roots of this evil and what we get in exchange for this erosion in the quality of our lives becomes one of the subject of our discussion in the kitchen as I prepare breakfast and lunch boxes while everyone else is still fast asleep upstairs. Yan settles for black coffee and coconut buns as he animatedly compares what different governments are doing to control crime and corruption. I guess it is back to principles and enforcement…or at the crux of it, about knocking some peoples’ heads and moving their butts.
With his ardour and conviction in expressing his concerns, some people take to Yan’s behaviour as being over critical and him, fussy and grumpy (pok pek, pok pek). Well, it is their loss…you don’t lose anything by listening to good thoughts and allowing someone to relieve his or her stress. He used to get even angry as he talked about these things, but now there is a mellowness about him that allows others to feel the deep sense of caring and even sadness, in those otherwise harsh comments. Why, when we bade farewell at KL Central, he could even smile (or was it a snicker?) as he took out his luggage from the car boot that was once priced open (last July when his family came back to attend Izwin’s and Danny’s wedding) while we were having dinner at the infamous Suzie’s corner. Yan, Pid and Izurein lost most of their precious belongings then. Then ensued a night to remember with the police…sensitive topic, huh? Thank God, some hilarious episodes along the way watered down the heat. They never got back their things some of which were irreplaceable. Izaz, my youngest son, was also traumatized by the loss of his beloved old computer in that incident, especially as he was returning to university for his final semester. Yan bought him a brand new one the next day…considered as a long term loan, he said. Perhaps some of the memories in that battered computer are meant to be forgotten and the gift to usher in a new lease of life.
Well, Yan is a sculptor par excellence and he left Malaysia to go where he can make a living out of his talent and skills. He has built a career and a name for himself in the hotel industry in Australia and has won many gold and silver medals in arts competitions on the Gold Coast and Perth, mostly for carving thematic objects in ice, styrofoam, butter, sugar. He project manages and trains others now, but is always compelled to go down to the ground to set the displays right. He knows he is a tough trainer, but then there are no half measures about him. He sculpts, works, exercises, debates and plays (and almost everything else he does) with equal passion. Little Alman is left breathless sometimes after a “conversation” with him. My children would best understand if I stretch a little more to say “he gives what he gets and keeps his promises”….
Yan fought a long battle with nicotine and just a few years ago, kept his promise, as much to himself as to his family, to win it. And then to embark on weight lifting just before becoming a quinquagenarian vis-à-vis replacing tar-infused Marlboro packs with whey-filled packs on the torso….is that phenomenal or what you can call a paradigm shift? Can’t say I am not delighted at the multiplier effect, as my eldest son, Idzfan, also stopped smoking last year when he moved in with Yan’s family upon taking up a contract with an architectural firm in the city. Well, he still indulges on a puff or two when he is home on holiday, but that was the way with Yan too when he was weaning off the sticks for many years.
(5 days later)
Danny’s wife, Dorrati, has delivered a healthy baby boy. We brought Alman to visit his cousin in hospital and Yan came along too, thrilled at the opportunity to snap a very early picture with his grand nephew. What will kissing cousins Muhammad Alman and Al-Iman Danish call Anto Yan…..Toyan?
A Prayer
“Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
The courage to change the things I can
And the wisdom to know the difference”
