That Wednesday evening, I went home a bit late from work because I was with the kids practising for their Teachers’ Day performance. Oh yes, teachers worked their ass out for Teachers’ Day celebration! Once I reached home, the first thing I did were sweeping the floor, doing the laundry and taking my one-hour shower, even though I was actually very tired and sleepy. It was 6.45 pm. While waiting for the laundry, I cooked instant noodle for dinner, sat in front of the tv before I took my mobile phone and checked whether there’s any message coming in. I got three missed calls – Apak, Mak and sis Carol, but I wasn’t thinking of anything else by then so I calmly rang Mak. Mak sounded like she’s in a rush and she raised her voice asking where I was when I didn’t answer. After I explained to her, she gave me the news.
I wasn’t surprised at all the moment I heard it. It was only after 5-10 mins, my body started shaking, my breath was heavy and my mind drifted to the face I last saw on that New Year’s Eve. All I knew after that was tears streaming down and I almost wailed my heart out. I just couldn’t believe what I heard from Mak. Until now.
Jilut, as we fondly called him (his mom and dad called him JJ) – had just passed away after he collapsed at a private clinic. He had his asthma attack.
For a few minutes, I wandered around my living room, not knowing exactly what to do. Actually, the next day I had to take my student to Kanowit for a Public Speaking Competition. I had a strong urgency telling me I needed to go home immediately. I just had to. I called my PK and KP telling them what happened and they advised that I should cancel the participation and just go back to Kuching, without having to worry much. My brother, Nick called telling me that he’s coming home (from Bintulu)in a few minutes time and asked whether or not I want to join him. Without much hesitation, I said yes and asked him to come down to Sibu and we’d drive to Kuching together. At least we’d go through this and we’d drive our way to see Jilut for the last time TOGETHER. (The three of us we very close to each other when growing up and we had been childhood friends and gangstas despite the fact that he was our nephew). By this time, my instant noodle remained untouched and I just couldn’t consume anything. I took my bag to start packing but I just didn’t know what to do. I went out to refill my car petrol which was the dumbest thing to do because I couldn’t pay attention to the traffic anymore.(Shoot, RON97 price hiked this midnight!).
Three hours later, my brother arrived from Bintulu and I picked him up for our long-drive to Kuching. We were silent all the way. I knew my brother felt the loss the most as he’s the closest and he’s the one my brother would look for when my brother is back in Kuching and vice versa. I was sleepy but I told myself to stay awake and strong to push the pedal. I had always been excited and looking forward to being in Kuching again, but I had never expected it to be this soon and with such a feeling. Despite the heavy downpour, we took turns driving and arrived safely at our beloved neighbourhood. The place where the three of us grew up, and we were among the first to explore the area before the other residents settling in that taman perumahan.
Words couldn’t express how heartbreaking it was to see the house when I walked towards it. Jilut’s little brother greeted us and I couldn’t bear the sight that I broke into tears before I had even stepped into the house. From outside, I could see Mak and my Indaiwai (the demise’s grandmother), and of course my ikaks (my cousins – the parents). As soon as the mother and father saw my brother and I, the wailing and the weeping broke the silence once again and I hated to see what I saw lying on the floor. I just couldn’t believe my eyes. He was handsomely dressed in his Sunday’s best. Fresh flowers were placed near his head – but his eyes were tightly closed. He was breathless. The most painful thought to bear was that he could neither see nor hear what we had to say to him anymore.
Sitting beside his motionless body, I almost couldn’t catch my breath crying. Suddenly, the times we spent together especially when we were little kids shot through my system.
When he was at the age of 6 – 7, our family labeled him as “mua matak”. This was because whenever he was scolded for something, he would never show any sign of regret/sorry and he would keep blinking his eyes as if indicating he didn’t do anything wrong. He was generous to my brother and me with his new toys. He was the eldest child and he could have all the toys in the world at that time. He would look for us not only to show off the toys, but to share them with us. Thanks to his red bicycle, I could cycle for life now! If Nick and I were fighting against each other, they were times when my brother would tell Jilut not to talk to me or told me not to come with them anywhere. But he remained neutral and would still talk to me. He would even ask the reason we were fighting!
Three of us - Me, Jilut & Nick
He went to the same primary school as my brother, and my Apak transported us every morning to school. The one thing I remembered the most was when Apak picking them up from OTS, my sister Angie asked to see their work done at school. So, he showed his P. Moral workbook. It was a topic of personal hygiene and they needed to name the picture shown. We had a laugh when we saw what he wrote for a nail clipper. He wrote “papal kukut”, Iban’s version of nail clipper. When we laughed hard, he showed us the “mua matak” again.
We could go to each other's house almost every night at that time!
Jilut, Ciko, Nick and Me.
When he was 12 years old, there was something that required him to stay home for at least 3 weeks for something to heal. However, the next day after the “minor operation”, his Inik said he played badminton, got chased by a dog and was walking around with his kain pelikat and also – looking for my brother. When my parents got into a minor accident, he rushed to our house with his dad and asked me whether or not my Mak had delivered a baby. In kindergarten, he “cut” himself badly while zipping his pants and that became the laughing stock among our families at that time. I think, still is.
Us, with his little brother Cornelius in the middle and our favourite home-made ice-creams!
A few years later, he went to Miri with his parents and was back to Kuching when he was in Form 4. We went to the same school. We used the same school van and he was more reserved than he was when little. I learnt that he started to get asthma after he had finished schooling.
Geng pondok Taman Kwong Thiong, where he always spent his evenings with his close friends.
Jilut and my brother were quite close to each other. Whenever Nick was back in Kuching from abroad, Jilut would look for him and paid him a visit. The same thing when my brother was in town, he would look for Jilut almost the first thing upon reaching home. Her grandmother is like our second mom, and her mother (our second cousin) is like the eldest sister to us. So are his other aunts and uncle. We were closer to them than we are to our own first cousins. So when he left suddenly, so soon, we felt like we had lost a sibling. Thus I didn’t think much when I decided I wanted to head home that very night upon receiving the news. We couldn’t wait any longer. The road seemed endless and when we finally saw him, it wasn’t the same as the last time we met each other.
The funeral was on Friday. We cried as much as we could as if tears were the only way to bring him back. We couldn’t hold back the tears until we saw his face for the very last time. Many of his friends spared their time from work for the funeral and to pay their kind respect for him, the last time. This shall be no wonder as he was known for his kindness and he seldom got angry to anyone. He was thegoofy amongst his friends. He’d never said NO when asked of assistance. He was a loyal chauffeur to his family especially to his mom and Inik. He loved to joke around and teased his little brothers and cousins. Not forgetting his Inik, whom he loved to tickle or give surprise.
The boot he'd just bought right before he left us.
The next day after funeral, before my brother and I went back to Sibu/Bintulu, we dropped by at his house and chatted his family. We shared stories of him especially what he did and said during my wedding day. We laughed at the memories - Jilut would always be Jilut.
Deeply missed and fondly remembered.
It’s been almost two weeks now but the thought of him still sends a solemn mood to our hearts. We know that he’s safe with God and his Aki, and is at better place now and that we would meet each other again someday.
Thus I dedicated this long post to him, to our families and his friends to share the memories he had left us with. I typed and published this because I want to remember him. I hope when I read this again in future, I would still feel the same and remember how it was when were growing up together, when I got the news right till his burial. Through this I hope to experience the feeling again. The feeling which reminds me that he was close to me. The feeling which proved that he was someone dear to me and someone we would always miss now and then. The grief and mourning would never bring him back but they could make us remember. I know I want to remember him.
Jairus Jubang Eddie
(22/12/82 - 04/05/11)
“When someone you love becomes a memory, the memory becomes a treasure.”
