Suddenly I miss her.
She is my first younger sister, Ku Haliza.
I read someone’s blog on how terrible he is for being the second child.
I am the eldest and my sister is the second child amongst seven of us. Reading this guy’s writing, I could now beginning to see how was my sister may have felt when we were growing up. I threw tantrums when I did not get what I wanted. I wont go to school if my late nenek was over slept and forgets to boil water for my bath. By the first half of the morning session, I had spent all my daily school allowance and would be looking for my sister for an extra fifty cents from her one ringgit pocket-money. She would oblige all my demands and bullying.
Still, she would follow me like a little puppy. She is the introvert type and I am more boisterous. I address the rest of my young siblings by their names but I call her “adik” or sister. Today, I still call her adik. The only person in the family that I address as such.
When we were little, we walked or cycled to a madrasah for religious lessons together. We had our own bicycle each and yet she always wanted to ride on mine which I hated it. She was this bubbly, chubby little girl and dreaded myself to cycle her uphill. She always get scolded and thousand of pinches, knocking on the head through out our childhood.
My childhood was not all bed of roses. Sometimes I got bullied and names calling. While I was trying to defense myself with all the hurling, abusive words from the kampung boys, she came to my defend too. She would pass to me all sort of things to ward off the bullies. Wooden branch, bamboo stick and even throwing stones at these boys. I was not very appreciative of her. In order to win the heart of the bullies, sometimes I hurled some abusive words at her too, to gain acceptance amongst the boys, I had abandoned her too often to even remember.
At home, she would ration her portion of dessert or fruit or the fried chicken to pujuk me to take her back into the league.
She was not very bright either. I had always outshone her with my academic achievements. She had to endure a constant blow of cruel comparisons by my parents and relatives. Back then, I always felt proud for the fact that she was “stupid” and I was the brightest one.
She however, was and still is the apple of my ayah. Anything she asked from ayah, she got it. I used her to get what I want.
Our old house was right on the beach. It was small but comfortable. We did not have our room but sleeping in front of the television in the living room. We shared blanket but it was all mine when the morning comes. Then as we both growing up, sharing blanket was no longer appropriate, my father built a double-decker bed for us and for many years, we bunk together; she took the lower and I was on the upper bunk.
I was the priority because I demanded to be treated like one. She had to be the second best and received thing only when I decided on what she would have after I have chosen what I wanted. When my parents bought something for both of us, she would only look at it and waited until I finish taking what I like first. I would always had the right to choose and I picked only the best. She had to settle on what ever i had left behind.
How different, we were inseparable.
We drifted apart when I started to stay at the hostel and often away from home after my secondary school, college and then came to Kuala Lumpur for work.
She is now has four adorable kids and a twin among them and I have none. Life has been good for her. I never told her that I love her. She was so kind to me when we were little and I am now, really could see now how tormenting it was for being the second child. I am sorry adik for treating you badly.