A kind-hearted little boy: “He lost his father”
July 5, 2009
If anyone had asked who I loved most in this world, I would have said it was Iman, my youngest; born in November 1991. That was a time when I was still clean. However, that moment of stupidity was looming – the re-introduction to opiate which resulted in the horrendous relapse that later took away almost everything that I had; besides bringing distress and suffering to those near.
And they included Iman – the sweet, kind-hearted little boy; always trusting and uncomplaining… a Gift and a Trust from God whom I was blessed to have. The thought and knowledge that I had failed him with that irresponsible addiction, which fouled up my sense of priorities and had caused the frequent neglect of him and his siblings by not fulfilling my responsibilities a lot of the time – the feelings of guilt, worthlessness and self-hatred that accompanied these were the biggest torment of all.
SCREAM – This one from Pink Floyd “The Wall” is among the more accurate graphics to represent `tormented’
There was the confusion, the sense of hopelessness and the despair of the situation… “Hope” is what that keeps us moving on no matter what the circumstances. But in my situation then, it was almost all gone and nearing zero when it comes to hope. “Almost”, however, was the all-important adverb in that instance; because no matter how minuscule or minute it had remained, that was what had kept me from doing the irreversible in “the ultimate attempt to escape”. That thought of failing your children, the pure and innocent – the crushing weight it heaped upon you was the worst suffering I had ever felt.
I sometimes hear this kind of talk by others: “Drug addicts just don’t care about their families. If they do, they would have stopped their addiction immediately.”
I’m not really going to contradict and refute that. At the same time, and based on my own experiences, I certainly don’t agree with the above either. It’s not that simple: that part about “don’t care” – the Malay term is “tak ambil peduli”: I know that I did… despite the addiction.
Often, during my time of active addiction – and also when I was in prison and at Pusat Serenti Gambang especially, I’d wonder about what it was that had kept me addicted. Why did I continue despite knowing that things would only get worse if I “don’t do something about it”? I did discover one answer, which was shared by practically all of the inmates whom I had posed the question to: it was self-delusion; of comforting one’s self that “All will be fine, somehow”.
How attractive was the alternative; in giving up drugs? With the opiates of heroin and morphine, that means undergoing severe physical withdrawal; and the psychological/mental withdrawal that goes on for weeks. But I believe practically all addicts would gladly undergo these… if things were to magically revert to the time just before it all started. But that’s not how it works, of course.
And so I went on. In the years after 2000, there were times when I had actually “stopped”, in that I was no longer physically addicted. None of these were voluntary. They were either through the lack of money – which was often; or there was that dreaded “putus” or disruption with the supply. And at the first opportunity, I would get back at it.
[*Detoxifying:Treat for alcohol or drug dependence; Remove poison from; These are the dictionary definitions. It’s `easy’ to get yourself or someone off the physical addiction, regardless of how long you had used, how much and the average purity of the substance – get him to detoxify. How? Deny him the substances for a certain period of time. Here’s when the `fun’ starts – the misery of physical pain AND mental torment. I’ve gone through a few that were of “hellish” class, and many of “severe”. And lots of “mild”. I can truthfully state this: The `mild’ of opiate withdrawal is worse than almost all of my `normal’ fevers (non drugs-related, like what you all here suffer occasionally), and it’s for each and every second of the day. I hope this gives a better idea of what this withdrawal thing is.]
I later learned the main reason why – I was alone… alienated. There was not much point in continuing to be clean – that is one’s thinking when he is alone and seemingly without hope for the future. During the past couple of years, I’d sometimes do this “time-tunnel exercise” of trying to remember and feel what it was like during a period – early 2000 for example. The memories of those negative feelings and incidents would stream back. Various aspects of my life were so knotted up, so blurred and dark that I could not see how they could be better in the future (that’s now). With nothing to really strive for, and with the heavy stone carried by every person bearing the guilt of having failed those who depended on you, the natural response was to find relief.
Some found temporary relief in alcohol, some in gambling, or womanising; many with a combination of those, and still even more added music and dance and whatever else. With me, it was in moving deeper towards the cause of that predicament in the first place: armed with a Terumo syringe intended for diabetics to administer insulin, the `immediate solution’ which was to perpetuate the cycle was in shooting up even more morphine or heroin. Sometimes these were spiked with methamphetamine – the pil kuda.
But how different it is now, despite having undergone a divorce process! For this, I am grateful. The people who are here now – despite never having met many yet, the spiritual aspect of all the communicating helps to lift this stone… Sherry Nor Jannah & Nazmi, Shakirah, Elviza, Zara (so often), Distractor, Sheila, Brigitte… my great friend in Seoul (who prefer that I keep silent about his existence, and I will respect that), Mekyam, Fauziah, and everyone who have honestly and sincerely wished me well. I shudder to think about the time prior to Gambang – it’s a wonder that I managed to hold on for that long despite the immense weight that was pulling me down.
And one of the main factors that had helped to counterbalance the thoughts about “ending it all” was the person whom I often remember as the innocent little boy – one of those whom I had wronged by my choices and actions. And he never knew it. Even during those days of heavy addiction, I had the desire to make up for all my wrongs. And ending it all would have meant that I won’t – ever; besides tarnishing him with another stigma… as if what he had then wasn’t enough. Despite all the hopelessness and self-loathing, I had to go on.
Some of the readers might wonder about my mentioning him, and “not protecting his privacy”. Well, one of them is that; from what I see, Iman, despite being the youngest, is the one who has accepted me for what I was and am, and the addiction period for what it was. I don’t know what it is inside him, but there’s something special about it. And he being my son who was the most unsuccessful when it comes to academics; examination results. It was something of which my ex-wife had often scolded him for – and a source of friction with me, for I would always side with him.
It wasn’t for the sake of it, no. Even from very early on, there were characteristics that others somehow didn’t see – or they didn’t say so. This was a boy who would never lie to escape punishment. In whatever situation, when asked whether he did something, it was always a “Yes”. And bullying by taking advantage of his age and size when with younger kids – that wasn’t him. His sense of fairness, fair play – they were there in him from very early on.
He couldn’t believe or accept that there were others who weren’t like him. He was so kind as to allow the younger kids to bully him; not knowing how to retaliate… because he felt it was wrong! One kid younger than him did take advantage of this when he was about five. When he came home crying and telling me about it, I had to set things right. And since this particular kid was too young to listen to reason, there was only one way – I taught Iman how to retaliate. That put an immediate end to the younger kid’s actions, of course.
His character – that was what I saw in him. Unfortunately, this wasn’t shared by my wife, who had placed “academic results” as the priority. That, incidentally, was what my own father had emphasised on too decades ago. Neither her nor my wife “were wrong”. However, based on my own experience, I felt I knew better. I’ve held on to this from early on and right until now: One’s character is the most important… not in getting 12A’s, not in doing a degree in law at Oxford. Of course, having and getting both would have been ideal. But I can say with all honesty now that I’m extremely happy with what he is – examination results be damned. Iman is a good person, and that’s all that mattered to me.
Despite his poor results from Standard One and onwards, I saw that it wasn’t `stupidity’. In his case, it was the lack of motivation or interest. I knew that he had enough intelligence based on how he had handled the PC – a Pentium MMX 166MHz with 32MB RAM and 3GB HDD bought at the end on 1998 when he was in Standard One. I had bought it (or, it was with my father’s money actually) with the aim of doing something then to create a job for myself and a source of income. It wasn’t very successful. But interestingly, when I was in Gambang and with a few months left, kept coming back to this idea again. And remarkably, exactly 10 years later, I was/am doing what I had planned and intended in 1998!
On Wed 10 Aug 2005, Iman – then in Form Two – was at this house in the afternoon. That was his daily routine after school… I was sure to hear the stepping of dry leaves outside; of him coming over to here. Its “his time” playing games at the computer while I lie down and read a book. It sure broke my feeling of loneliness with him here.
But I didn’t see him the following day. The next time I was to see him was a good 16 months later…
The Magical Day of April 15
May 26, 2009
Where do I begin? Sounds like the song by Andy Williams… I’m trying to start a post here but I don’t know what to write about – there are just so many things that I want to say. By the way, the last post is rather sharply worded and is not mean for general consumption; which is why I had set a password.
I had suffered from a rather severe bout of asthma and fever since Friday morning, and the medication made me a bit delirious. I’m fit enough to sit at the desk and catch up with work plus email over the past three days. A message from here caught my eyes straight away – and reading the comment at the Stargazer post on May 24 left me stunned and depressed. Like the writer “bed”, I hope someone will tell us that it’s not true.
And while writing this, I received an SMS from Elviza about someone being hospitalised – nothing too serious. Well, I’ll have to start somewhere so, for the time being, I’ll just continue from the last post – this one being the sanitised version. By the way, if I “sound odd”, it might be because of the medication – I have to down a clutch of pills, plus take in the asthma inhaler.
A divorce after 25 years and with four children in the picture: How many people do you know have a similar record? And how about this: Would you believe that there are people who actually want me to slide back down the road of drug addiction?… that there are people who are silently incensed that I “seem to have it easy, with things going my way”? No, this isn’t paranoia – I have the evidence to show. But I’ll just stick to the Syariah court thing first, and then connect it with the second. Maybe… because I don’t know what this post will lead to.
A divorce – I kept wondering (note that I’m consciously using the past tense) about the timing: it could have very easily happened when I was in prison from August 2005, and at Pusat Serenti Gambang from November 2005 until mid-December 2006. But it didn’t – it only happened now. Why now??…coming at a time when I was/am actually in the best position for at least 15 years! There’s a lesson in this somewhere.
At Gambang, I know of two fellow inmates who went through this ordeal. The first was a retired army officer the same age as me from Maran (and, like me, his children were doing well in their studies too, thanks to the mothers). There was another – 302/05 “Syed”, a labourer from Bunut Susu, Pasir Mas. He was in his early 40’s/late 30’s and was in the same Room 8 of the dreadful Pengkalan Chepa prison. About a month at Gambang, “the letter” came for him – his wife had filed for a divorce under “Fasakh” (“Abandonment”? Or does anyone know the accurate term; for the benefit of non-Muslims). It was precisely the same thing that had weighed heavily on my mind.
On the day before the hearing, he was taken to Pasir Mas and spent the night at the police lockup. The escort was a Pusat Ustaz (both Ustaz Zulfifli and Ustaz Jumaidy are excellent people, I should add). Well, he didn’t contest it – unlike me – and the matter was settled on that day. Anyway, I kept thinking about it during my 13 months at Gambang (and the three months in prison); wondering “when my turn will be”. It never came – at least not then.
Mine came just a couple of months before I started this blog last year. And when it did, I had resolved to fight it all the way, every inch. It was during the time after the first hearing that I came to know of these two magnificent people – Sharifah Nor Jannah and Nazmi – who were privy to all the details, and were with me until the last.
And then came a few precious others – from this blog and also from Facebook. God knows how I might have handled the whole thing had I been alone! This thought came to my mind during the darkest moments – perhaps this is why it had happened now, and not before… God knew I might have handled it differently had it happened when I was at Gambang(?)
About that inmate “Syed” – He said he’s “okay”, but he never was. He gradually gave up regular prayers after that. And ever since the transfer to the permanent hostel (his was “Jati” – Teak), he was often among the undisciplined – samsu (moonshine) and inhaling thinner. I kept thinking that I could have easily gone down that road too…
Anyway, I’m not going to say anything bad about my former wife. After all, she is the mother of my four children; and I have learned quite a few things from the people here – Sherry, Shakirah, Zura, Tehsin, Zara, Elviza, Datin Mamasita, Sheila and someone from Facebook who shall remain anonymous: I owe it to them that I’m not spiteful right now.
However, I don’t owe any obligations to others though… To make a long story short, I saw what deceit was during a session on March 25. A case that was largely in my favour was in jeopardy because of the connivance of a few monkeys – and I have written, spoken and anecdotal proof of this [guess what my wife told me later on]. And thanks to a lawyer who had helped with the technical aspects, the next hearing was going to be something like the movie title, There Will Be Blood
CAPTION: No, that’s not Daniel Day-Lewis. Or Cendana287. It was Mat Cendana thinking about how to make the court session a fiery affair.
Wednesday April 15: This was supposed to be the day when I made an appeal against a decision by the court on March 25. It would also have been a day of retribution. BTW this is one of my negative aspects – the `do at all costs even if it hurts me’. I knew that I might be held for contempt of court, but I was going ahead regardless. I’ve been in prison twice, so what’s a third time?…
But something from Shakirah around April 6; and a new friend, Zura a few days before the session. made me change my mind. Not only that, I decided to go all the way and also do “what’s right”.
And for every decision, Sherry was always in the know. I have to mention this – she’s a lot like David in that they’d never dump unsolicited advice… although Sherry would not hesitate to do so when she sensed “she must”. Paradoxically, the less one advices, the more powerful and influential s/he is! And it’s often the other way too – at least with me. But that’s how influential these three were; reversing what I had intended to do and guided me towards things that I would never have done had I been alone. And I’m so glad “for losing”!
There were the others too (Apologies if I fail to mention you – I might remember later): Quite close to the hearing, Elviza sent some messages that perked me up. So did Tehsin. And satD. And at 4AM Wed, April 15, an email message arrived all the way from New York – Mekyam added to the encouragement. I had earlier told her what I was going to do; and how the others had influenced and guided me. And she had this to say, among other things (I hope Mekyam won’t mind my pasting this without asking her permission first):
the best retaliation to anyone/anything in society that makes us feel less than we should is to succeed in spite of and to think the best of yourself all the time.
And guess what happened on that day? I was there first – only to be told that it was postponed to April 26. While waiting outside and sending a few SMSes, my wife arrived. I told her, nicely, that the hearing has been postponed. She didn’t reply. When she came outside, I mentioned something that must have jolted her: “I’m going to make it easy for you – there won’t be an appeal against the last decision. In fact, I’m going to just grant whatever you ask.”
It took her a few seconds to respond. It was something she didn’t expect. But this, being a proud woman, just wouldn’t show her real emotions. However, there was an immediate change – she could now unburden her troubles to me without feeling `weak’. It must have been a relief for her – she told me that our youngest son was accepted to a MARA PolyTech for a diploma course! “You’ll have to help him for the three years… it requires a lot of money.”
Now that was a nice surprise. Our youngest – this is the same sweet, kind-hearted boy I had sent the RM50 to in Nov 2006 from Kuantan. He’s also a slow learner, unlike his sisters. But I knew something from very early on – if he’s interested in something, he’ll do very well… and his interest was/is the computer. This is someone who could install programs and understood the concept of folders when he was in Standard One. And showed me that you can import Excel tables to Word when in Std Two (he’d just click around until something happened). Despite his rather poor SPM results, he had obtained a good-enough grade for the subject of Multimedia – and that’s what he has been chosen for at PolyTech. I was so happy but, like my wife, pretended to be emotionless… There is justice in this world after all – Of course I’ll do my best for him!
My wife decided to push her luck – she knew enough about me, I suppose. She mentioned our eldest daughter in teachers’ training college, who’s doing a degree: “Now that you’re working, can you allocate RMxxx a month for her?… until the end of 2010”.
That was a magical moment – 10 years of tension melted away just like that! We walked side by side from the court to the town centre, talking and discussing as if there were no problems between us; the common thread being “What can we do to help our children?” I even thought about asking her to have breakfast with me. But she remembered something – she had asked for the date to be set for May 6 instead, and it had to be confirmed. So she went back, insisting that I go on ahead.
I had SMS to Sherry, Shakirah and Zura about it while having breakfast. When I went to see my youngest son, my wife was already at home. I even got a durian and a few sweet mangoes – it was given by my youngest, of course, who mumbled something about “his grandmother” giving it to me. Well, whatever – but I did hear my wife calling him to the kitchen prior to that.
Beginning from that day, I was obsessed with one thing – how to help ensure that my son would be able to go to college. A divorce? Okay – I discovered that I didn’t “lose” as I had previously feared.
NEXT POST: A Happy Divorce to You?
