WHEN IN MANCHESTER
Thoughts while studying abroad
This piece will be an on-going piece on all the reflections and personal experiences I have during my time abroad.
This will be a sentimental piece, so watch out!
Like water, life’s current does not only lead you to flow in the its many unexpected branches. But in at these branches or critical moments they also allow you to reflect on your path or surroundings, and they interestingly become clear when you see them upside down or from afar.
April 27, 2020
I would like to share a bit of my childhood memory, during the time that my mum was completing her masters and PhD and dad, Rio and I tagged along. One of the memories that came into my head today was one when I was perhaps around 6 or 7 years old, I had just started primary school I think. Rio was only a year younger. This memory came to me today when I was studying on my bed and next to me was my window that I left open.
Of all the months I have stayed here, what I learned was that the neighbourhood where I live is usually very quiet. There seems to be a lot of new families with kids around, many seem like they have just started to settle in Manchester. During the afternoon, particularly during lock down such as this, the kids would go out playing. I’d usually hear siblings arguing over ball games or fighting over time on the scooter, then I’d hear the frustrated parent shouting trying to get the situation under control. Today, through my opened window, I heard a man shouting.
He seemed angry, swearing at something in a thick accent. I couldn’t really understand what he said. But it took me back to when I was growing up in Coolbelup where the neighbourhood was shady AF! To be fair, you shouldn’t really expect much from the accommodation of a family of four when on study leave. But in light of reminiscing past experiences, the flat had so many weird people either doing drugs or are already hiding away from the police. Hearing people screaming, scrambling out the door and police cars parking in front of the flat was nothing out of the ordinary for 7 year old me.
I remember that the flat also had other Indonesian families staying there too. I remember staying at one of the Indonesian family for a while because Mamah was hospitalized and Papah had to take care for her at the hospital, leaving Rio and I with a family friend. I don’t remember them being nice, in fact I remember the lady being like the real life embodiment of Cruella de Vil (I loved 101 Dalmations!) to Rio and I every time we got into a fight (come on, what do you expect from siblings aged 6–7 when seperated from their parents?). But she did make the best telor balado for breakfast — I still remember this even after 20 years.
And now the tables have turned, I am the one studying. Mamah never really talked about her being hospitalized. I remember only few memories: when ambulances came to the flat to take her, the trips going to the hospital that forever cemented my memory of the hospital for the years to come — I’d recognize the square brown building towering over other buildings from miles in an instant— and I remember the day when we picked her up from the hospital and we were finally able to take her home.
Life has a way of making you realize things. It was only now that Mamah started talking about her experiences during that time, perhaps because I am now on a voyage she took herself many years ago. But different from her experiences, I realize that I am in a much better condition: for one, thankfully I don’t live in a neighbourhood where the police frequently park in front of my house (but I think they are more lax on ganja here…).
But not only that, I think this whole experience abroad also has made me really understand and appreciate the sacrifices and hardship that both Mamah and Papah went through, of different accounts on their behalf, for my brothers and I. It’s hard enough to be alone doing all this, but it must be so much harder when you have to take care of other human beings.
Early May 2020?
It’s weird to have that as a heading I know. Early May has been nice, at least in terms of the weather. It was even as hot as Bandung the other day. People have been soaking it up as much as they can.
You also get a sense of how people here do their routines and at what time. Usually people here don’t go out until around 10–11ish, even though the sun is already out by 5 in the morning. The sun would be blazing by then, the sky clear, the wind gentle — the perfect combination to sunbathe on my bed with the window wide open. I usually do my errands near the afternoon, around 4. Having gone out at that time several times, and also in the morning a couple of times, you can really see the stark difference. Families would take out their plastic chairs and talk in front of their house at around 4–7pm, they’d say hi to passing neighbours, play with their kids, mend their garden, or just take the time to smoke and chill.
I’ve been noticing one neighbour recently, the one whose house is just behind mine. For the past week, the dad and children would be outside in the afternoon with the mum tending to their needs just outside the door. What did they do? They’d say hi to passing neighbours, play with the kids, mend their garden, and smoke and chill.
It’s completely mundane and normal really, but it rings so close to home. I’d think of Papah everytime. How he’d turn old bits of wood into a shoe rack or cupboard, how he’d be the one excited to plant new fruit and veg in the rooftop-turned-garden-slash-farm, how apparently there’s soemething wrong with the car and he’d get it sorted in no time. Perhaps this is a dad thing? Papah would let me into his world and I’d be curious to know what kind of plant he’d grow next, but I didn’t always get him.
The one day I saw the next door family didn’t mend their garden was when I also saw the dad walk around the neighbourhood for a smoke. Perhaps the afternoons outside mending the garden does not really reflect what the lcokdown really has been for him.
Like Papah at home, I’m sure that dads everywhere are also struggling with this lockdown. Mums also. And the kids. But people tend to forget about dads and their unique routines that only they understand.
The more I grow up the more I realise that Papah has not had it easy having to adjust to Mamah’s studies and career. Even after more than 10 years returning home, the new routine is still strange (it became really obvious when I returned home back in December). Pah, I hope you’re coping well.
10 May 2020
It’s back again. My self-doubts.
