Between Home and Far Away.

(Written on 26th June 2013)

"You haven't been home a lot. Don't you get homesick, at any chance?"
"It's very saddening your parents had actually missed you or so. And you rarely go back."
"Mengada-ada tak mahu balik."

You gotta be serious of whom you talkin' to, kid?

I can't help much to say, I was lazy to argue the facts and everything. Because I knew none
would've really understood my view of really, going back home. A few more actually shared my point of view, so I don't actually felt alone. I wasn't a loner. I can't help it but I laughed at them.
I'm not claiming anything but here's my answer.

Perhaps we may perceive that we actually have a lot of time.
But in that meantime where we thought to have a lot of time, we actually have a few hours, little time for
ourselves.
The time we spent with our family, the time we spent with our friends, anyone, or everyone we loved.

And now next to me are two goddamn-military-enthuasiasists, playing Call of Duty.
Their talking about guns and histories and everything. Kalau betul tak apa. Ugh.
I've held a real M-16, disassembling them and God knows many more I had done with that thing. Throwing them up in the air or so. Clutching them. Triggering them. Bah. It was to the point you thought it's a toy gun because you rarely got a time to hold it with live ammo rounds. It wasn't long until you got really bored of it.
Really bored of it.

Actually I was here because of the internet. Who knew it would be free.
And of course, something free would've meant it is as fast as a turtle.

Homesickness. Of course, any human or anyone have been into that state until they got over it.
To the point you've always wanted to stay home because there's TV, internet and everything. After all, it is your
home. There won't be Hitler or anyone coming done to knock over your house because you are, at home. It is yours.

I admit it. Being home, is just nice. It's relaxing.
Hearing your mother is cooking in the kitchen with your sisters helping her preparing tonight's dish.
Arguing with your own father who is the best football player or political boss. Exchanging views about the world
with your own father.
Experience sleeping at your own large, extra comfy bed, with WIFI at the speed of light.

Please, who wouldn't love them? haha.

I used to thought, I'd kill of any chances if there was a way or a door to go home. But that has changed.

I remembered when I was in Form 4. That afternoon.
Dressed in the usual Baju Melayu or in the military what we call "Mosque Order" (the navy calls them "Mufti Order",
don't ask me why), we march into 3, then went into the mosque for our friday prayers.
Soaked in sweat, we went inside and at that time, there wasn't any air conditioner there. Trust me, packed with people
from other university and everything, it is really hot.

So I sat down in a humble manner, trying my best not to fall asleep or led my thoughts astray to home.
"When will I graduate?" was one of the questions I've always asked. Always.

But I couldn't. The thought of my father, whom had always been my companion to the mosque. I closed my eyelids and
I, thought of him. Who wouldn't feel so much secure under the arms of his own family? It's not always or at all times
he'd be here with me at the mosque but yeah.
I remember turning to my right was a stranger and the left was surprisingly, my dad. It felt so vivid.
So real and I felt his presence, to the point I feel I couldn't be any wrong more that it was really him.

Smirking at me with his usual face. As if he was going to tease me, with something like "Pfft. Sleeping. Drooling,
that's all you know." I disliked him for being so cold or strict to me when I was a kid but actually, I felt his warmth.
The kind of warmth you'd rarely get.
The kind of warmth you'd want when you're alone.

"Is this really him?" I thought.

The prayers ended. I shook hands with the person on right like usual, and when I turned left, I shook my hands like I
shook my father's. But when I felt his hands, it wasn't rough. It was a little smaller than mine.

As I felt his hands, I finally got my senses back to the present state. As if someone splashed a bucket of water onto
my face. I immediately realised that I was awhile, fallen aslept.

"Wei, kau okay tak? (Dude, you're alright?)" my friend asked.
It was still a shock though but I managed to answer, "Ha. Aku okay. Okay aja. (Yeah, I'm alright. Just fine.)"

He (my friend), was smiling. He couldn't knew anything more other than knowing yes, quite number of us was still in
culture shock of staying hostel, we could not go back home. He understood, I was grateful. Everyone of us, misses home.
He was a good friend of mine and we got along together in the same company. The Bravo, B-coy.
We couldn't go back home for about 5 months and half or so.

Now he is in the defense university.

So the guy next to me, on my left wasn't my father. It was my friend. Reality didn't even knock the door of my
consciousness. It came right through, straight painful, as if someone slams the door with all his might, entering me.
So here I was, I thought.

Come anywhere under the storms, rain or the hot sun and red sands. Passing through the thick tropical jungles. I know home was
the best place that you could've been to than any other place.
Or might as well say, once our holidays and outings were suspended. Because of our grades. My friends, seniors, all, got
their holidays suspended. "Cuti anda dibekukan." If you were me, your response?
"Kita cairkan balik!" - typical.
So staying on a hard rock bed, was one of the things you could say as, the best thing ever.

At times while other school kids were all having fun in their holidays, we spent days learning about theories and marching.
My friend even ranted, "At times, I asked myself, what the hell am I doing here?"
But right now think I found the answer. Because some days are best remembered.

Not enough with that, how about going abroad all by yourself? Kilometres away from home, separated from the seas and passing
through the border? I was just 11 at that time. Going school trips. It was fun, though I missed home and at one time
it was ramadhan. I was the only one fasting. haha.

How about trying to comprehend a third language? A language that you wouldn't even know? That is just outside what your tongue
could've pronounced. Sometimes I think it was impossible to master french in just 2 weeks.
What not at the same time, even english became a language barrier for myself to work out. The only language I could've spoke
so well at that time was Malay.

My friends there or teachers, barely understood what I tried to ask or tell. Worst, teachers even
ignored me. Imagine your teacher ignores you, because he doesn't understood you of what you're saying. I still remembered.
The science I learned at grade 6 was equivalent to form 3. That's a 3 years gap and of course, who wouldn't thought it was
easy if I returned back to Malaysia? But no, I was wrong. I wasn't familiar of the Malaysian education system. It took me
awhile to get myself in sync with everything.

Coming to another teacher. I didn't understood, the manners of the french culture. So I did my usual way of doing things. She
yelled at me, angered because I didn't speak french in class. At that moment, my head was spinning with questions, like
"God, which planet really am I living in?" I felt like I was an alien in that class but thank God again,
my classmates was supportive and yes we were foreigners.

Despite those happenings, I've never faulted them in one way or another. I don't see it as a problem, something that would
halt or put an end to my life.

Even though YES I've said once aloud, "Tak guna orang putih. Celaka punya mat salleh!"
They didn't even know what it means but what do I care? I see those obstacles, as a challenge for me to go forward.
I mean, I couldn't say "If I was in Malaysia..." or "If I was at my own home...", I wouldn't get or learn anything.
I don't mean to sound racial, even if I did, pardon my words when I was still 13 at the time but really;

What could you do, when nobody around you cared less to help you, just because you are a foreigner?

So in the end I'd say, "Nanti kau, mat salleh!"
Fine. Challenge accepted.

I saw my creativity in writing poetries, reports, essays and more things that required you to write. I took the opportunity
to excel into that area, since I wasn't so good in maths. If I had known better, I would've worked on my interests in maths but
that desire had already gone. So I said it's fine. I can work out on my life like this.

I carried on. And on until now.

With that way, I understood what it means to learn.
To learn something new or better in your life, you have to be far from home. And when you return home, you will feel different.

To say I didn't even know or understood what is the meaning of missing your own family, friends or whatsoever, I knew
that meaning even better, so I know those who would say I didn't miss home, were wrong.
I just didn't want to say anything about it. Because I stick with my own principles. I knew it even better.

I saw many things in this world. Many oppportunities. Many experiences. And many memories that you could've get when you're out
from home. Home can be sweet, warm and relaxing. But for how long will you be like that?
I see a lot of things, that can be saddening. That can be frustrating. That can be heartbreaking.

But memories worth much more than gold. And it could also be pain, stayed asphalt on your mind.

To home I go someday, with guitar on my left, laptop on shoulder and a travelling bag on my right hand, I shall be like a hero
returning home. Feeling amiss. Feeling free. Feeling every single thing I missed at home.

But until that day reach, I had something to do.

"Tiada gunung terlalu tinggi, tiada laut terlalu luas."

Asyraf Amir. 20132607.