Skip to main content

Zainal Abidin Jaafar: Beating His Own Path

If there is one in my family who have truly lived, it would be my brother Zainal. I must, regretfully, admit, that, as an elder brother, he has always been an elusive man of mystery for me. Being the youngest, by the time I was born, Abang Enal, was already in form 2. When I started school in 1971, he was already in Melaka studying at the Vocational Institute of MARA. I have vague memories of visiting him with my parents.

Then, he was off to Japan, I don't know for how long, and then, he came back home with a beautiful Japanese girl in tow. I remember, she had picked the name Suzana as her Muslim/Malay name after she converted, and they got married. We all lived together with my late sister Aishah and her husband Abang Haris, and their two sons, Zulkifli (Zul) and Sallehuddin (Hud). The one memory I have of my Japanese sister in law, was; Abang Haris once bought one of those racing track toys with tiny motorcycle riders going around in a figure of eight, then up a conveyor belt, then down again around the track. The instructions to assemble the toy was in Japanese, and we (Zul, Hud and myself) asked Suzana to read the instruction, but since her grasp of English was still in its infancy (much less her Malay), it was quite stressful to understand her explanations. Thinking back, if you were an observer looking at three kids sitting around a pile of toy parts listening open mouthed to a Japanese woman explaining how to put it together, it must have been a hilarious sight.

The marriage did not last....

But, with his wits and charm, it wasn't long before Abang Enal wooed another beautiful girl, but wisely ensuring she is a local girl.

This, in my mind, is the perfect match. Kak Maya, the energetic, robust, straight to the point kind of girl, is perfect for the soft spoken, laid back Abang Enal. They had four children, and to the annoyance of Abah and Mak gave them weird names.... Nina Eza Maria, Ezwan Razak, Assalamia and Al Haq....

The ups and downs of their lives, would have made the bestseller's list. God only knows the hardship they had gone through, which makes them what they are today. The children grew up fine, married to wonderful spouses, their business started to pick up..... Unfortunately, there are those who cannot stand to see others happy.

Abang Enal is now in a much better place now. He is resting now... He had lived this life walking his own path. He never asked for approval not did he expected any. He seems content, having all that he loves, and loving all that he has.

I don't think I have ever heard him complain or see him sad, right to the last days of his life, he was ever jovial, with a permanent smile on his face.

I am envious of him, both in life and in death. There can be no other reward for him, in the afterlife, than heaven.

The blessings of Allah upon him.... Alfatihah.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A letter from my mother

Today, on the first day of Ramadhan in the 52nd year of my life, while I was rummaging through some old stuff, I came across a letter written to me by my mother, folded and enveloped into a prescription drug package. My mother taught herself to write in Rumi, so some words are quite difficult to figure out. She was probably more comfortable writing in Jawi, but she knew her son is useless at reading it. The letter was not dated, but I would say it was written circa 1985, the year that I dropped out of UTM. The letter was an angry letter, as angry as my dearest mother would be. I cannot remember the occasion that warranted such letter, but I think I must have said something that hurt her. She wrote that I should have told her or father (unlikely) or my brothers and sisters that I am having difficulties in my studies. She wrote that I have ostracized myself from my family, and she understood that I did this because I do not want to be any more a burden to my parents and my sibli

Humanity: from the lucid mind of a Covid19 infested person.

 Hello... It's me, again. I don't know how anybody is going to read this, because I have deactivated my Facebook account... my Instagram too. It's interesting to see people's reactions when I told them this. Mostly, it's a sharp intake of breath and a sympathetic "why".  I guess they assumed I was cyberbullied into deactivation. No... It was a mistake. I should never have even registered for any socmed (social media for those uninitiated). I hate it, people sharing their lives, what they eat and drink and where they were eating and drinking, how far they have walked or run or cycled, with whom they are doing things, who they met today or yesterday, where they are now in the world, what their cute babies or cats are doing, what plants they are planting, what fruits they have harvested... I don't really want to know about what you guys are doing with your lives unless I am responsible (partly) for bringing you into this horrible place. For that, my child

I love/hate MCO

The vaccines are here... spelling the beginning of the end of Covid19... or at least we hope so. But, it is really just hope upon hope. Because, as vaccines are being spread (by health workers) in most parts of the world, we still hear of lockdowns happening here and there. And the virus is mutating. New strains are being discovered, having higher infectivity. I guess Covid wants to live just like any other living creature. My employer has announced that beginning this month (April 2021) everybody must come to work in the office. No more working from home. Which is OK. I mean (in case my boss reads this blog) I love my job but dread going through the traffic jams in the morning and then again in the evening. I miss the easy smooth drive to and from work during the MCO when I had to come to the office to sign some physical documents, but even during the CMCO and RMCO, when we are allowed to move around a bit more, the traffic build-up at roadblocks gave me a glimpse of things to come wh