Bidayuh Supermodel!!!!!

(20 May 2011, Leamington Spa, UK)

A Bidayuh in Leamington Spa

It was six in the evening. Cliff stopped his PIAT car at the roadside. Clift, Sylvester and I were going to have a dinner at The Union Grand Restaurant. We crossed a road and entered into a restaurant. I knew it must be the restaurant that Sylvester always mentioned to me in his facebook. Clift, Sylvester and their other friend set up the restaurant together. However, Clift and Sylvester had to sell their shares to their friend. The reason was they wanted to spend more time for vacations, than in the restaurant. Before entering into the restaurant, Sylvester asked me to look up. At the top of the restaurant main door, I saw a small, long aluminum plank that notified that Sylvester was licensed to sell beers, wines and spirits. As a Bidayuh, I was proud with Sylvester as he represents the successful Bidayuh “dari” (dari means man in Bidayuh). He is an academician, scientist and businessman, and yet he still remember where he is a Bidayuh from Sarawak.

Inside the restaurant, we sat at a couch while waiting for the server to set up our dining table. It is a common practice in any western countries; the customers will wait until there is a table for them. It is different in Malaysia where you just sit down if there is an empty table inside the eating outlet. Clift ordered a glass of beer, and Sylvester and I ordered a bottle of Rose Wine. Twenty minutes waiting, we took a few pictures of us together, and decorations inside the restaurant. The restaurant still maintained the Dayak decoration. I knew that Sylvester did put his ideas in decorating the restaurant. Once our table had been set up, we went to the basement. There, I saw a big hall with many tables and chairs. It was beautiful, and I felt like a timid Dayung that should not deserve a great treatment from the two of them. Sylvester knew how I felt, and he assured me that they would treat me like their own little sister from Sarawak. We spent more than an hour enjoying ourselves with English-France cuisines. Then, we went upstairs again to meet their two English friends.

Bidayuh can be an international model

Five of us sat on a large table. Sylvester introduced me to his friends. They greeted me and asked few questions. Then the conversation shifted to sharing any jokes and gossips about their friends and someone they knew in Leamington Spa. I was entertained with their stories. They were just like our local people, sharing many stories at coffee parlor or Kopitiam. Sylvester diverted my attention and asked me to talk with him. We conversed in our language, Bidayoh Bau or Bibau.

“What do you think about Leamington Spa?” Sylvester asked.

“I like it. Nab (Sylvester’s nickname), I like your lifestyle. You are not in a glamour world, and yet you enjoy your happy life here.” I praised him.

“Kembang hidup (a Malay expression to show how proud a person is)! We must enjoy our life. How hard it is, we must make ourselves happy.” He advised me.

“Nab, how did u manage to become a part-time model? Sorry to say, you are not tall like any male models, and yet the agent picked you up to be their advertisement model.” I asked about his part-time job as a model.

“It was a coincident. I walked along the boulevard in London. Suddenly, there was a man. He stopped me, and said that I have a unique face. He asked my origin, and I told him. I was proud to be a Bidayuh from Borneo. He was pleased with my explanation, and he said I could be a model. He gave his card, and asked me to come for an audition next week.” He paused, drank his wine and continued with his story.

“I was not sure at first, but Clift said I should try. I went to the audition, and I got the offer. I had beaten tall, masculine and macho European men. From that exposure of being a model, I believe that Bidayuhs can be international models.” He looked at me and smiled proudly.

“Nab, wow! Such a great experience. They picked you because of your unique Dayak face. I wonder if I did my PhD here, I will be spotted and picked up to be an advertisement model.” I just made a wish.

“I believe, you can Dency. I went back to kampung (kampung means village in Bahasa Melayu), and I saw two beautiful dayung. They have those packages to be models. Small, tall body; pointed, small nose and smooth skin. I was attracted to their unique faces. They were still young, probably 17 years old. I did not dare asking whether they were interested or not to be models. I waited for the next summer, and I did ask where these two girls from orang kampung (orang kampung means villagers). They said, both of them got married after finishing their Form Five. Both of them have a bright future ahead, and yet they preferred to be housewives.” Sylvester sighed thinking the future of those two girls.

“That’s their choice. If they are exposed like both of us, maybe they will choose to upgrade themselves. Both of us have big dreams, and we worked hard to get where we are now. When I went back to kampung, looking at our people, I always told to myself how lucky I was to get this opportunity to travel around the world. My mom did advise me, to read as many books as I can if I want to travel around the world. She was right, and I should thanks to her.” Suddenly, I missed my mother back in Kuching.

“Our mothers always know the best for us. We shall thanks them. You mentioned about your mother, now I’m missing her. I can’t wait to see her again. She will arrive on the day you will be in the Tring. You are so unlucky that you will not meet with my mother and my sister here.” Sylvester mentioned about his mother and his sister would have a long holiday together with him in the UK.

“It’s ok. Maybe I can meet you all in kampung. The Next year, probably. I must come back home every summer.” I smiled at him, and he nodded agreeing.

We continued our chat with others, while drinking our wine. The night was a bit bored. The first male singer did not play happy songs. He played few gig songs that bored many patrons. Then, he was replaced with another male singer. The new singer chose nice songs that entertained many patrons in the restaurant. Clift, Sylvester and I spent there until the time showed 10 pm. We made an excuse with Clift and Sylvester’s friends in the restaurant. They all said goodbye to all of us. Tomorrow we would venture around the Leamington Spa. I could not wait to sit next to Sylvester in his silver convertible SUBARU sport car. 

Dayung and her purple bag

(18 May 2011, London to Stowmarket, UK)

At Heathrow Airport Station

I smiled after passing the gate out of the UK Border Control at the Heathrow Airport. After the second interview, the woman officer allowed me to enter to her country, the United Kingdom. I did not pass my first interview. The other man officer disallowed me to pass the border, as I did not provide a full complete of Dr. Sylvester’s address. He asked me to stand outside of the line, and try  to get a full address of Dr. Sylvester. How stupid I was for forgetting the most important thing as a foreigner in other countries. I must have a full address for me to stay in their countries.

Luckily, I saved Sylvester’s phone number in my Blackberry. I inserted my American AT & T Sim card into my Blackberry and straight sent a text to him, asking his house full address. Five minutes over, I still not received his reply. I called him twice, but he did not pick up his phone. I sat at one corner and waited patiently. Twenty minutes later, I received his text. After reading his message, I picked up a new form and filled important information about me including Sylvester’s house address. Sylvester did remind me to show the letter from my Professor, that my other intention to visit UK was to do my research in the Natural History Museum, in Tring. While waiting for my turn to be interviewed, I called Sylvester to tell about my condition until my cellphone battery went out. When my turn had come to be interviewed by the women officer, I impressed her with my complete answers and she accepted my reasons and immediately she stamped my passport. I knew I was accepted to enter to enter UK.

I took a left turn after passing the border exit gate. I walked happily to get my big, purple bag at the baggage carousel that was located outside of the airport gate border. There were five carousels and I walked from one carousel to the next, looking for my bag. I did not find my bag after searching from all five carousels. I did not panic, as I believed my bag could be at the baggage counter. I went to the counter and asked a man whether they took my bag. I gave my baggage ticket, and he helped me to check. To my surprise, he said my bag was still at one of the carousels. I mentioned to him that I could not find it as they are many bags. He assured me that he would get it for me. I waited for him to come with my bag. Five minutes waiting, I saw him carried my bag. He handed my bag and I thanked him for helping me.

I carried my bag to a bench. There, I sat down and started thinking my next plans on how to go to Pener’s house at Stowmarket. My first plan was to dispense a certain amount of money from ATM, and next plans were to buy a UK sim card and a train ticket, as well as recharging my cellphone. Without wasting my time, I dragged my bag to the nearest ATM and dispensed 150 £ or USD300. Then, I walked around the carousel area, trying to find any plugs so that I could recharge my cellphone battery. However, I did not find a plug within that area. I decided to walk out from the airport to the eatery area, hoping I could find a plug. Again, I could not find it. A bit disappointed, I walked slowly and I saw an internet kiosk and a big box that sold cellphone-prepaid cards. I started to devise a new plan. I bought 20 £ cellphone-prepaid sim card. Then, I went to the internet kiosk and checked on an untended computer. I was lucky indeed, the last person who used the computer had left another 1 pound for me to use. Without wasting my time, I opened my facebook and sent a message to Pener telling that my cellphone battery went out. I also gave my new UK cellphone number in case she could call me if I managed to recharge my cellphone.

After sending the facebook message to Pener, I set my journey to find a plug before taking an underground train from Heathrow Airport to London Liverpool Street Station. After 10 minutes walking, I found a plug. I was happy and sat down near to the plug. I opened my purple luggage to take out my Blackberry recharger and an international adapter. I put my recharger into the plug. The light of my recharger blinked for 5 minutes only, and it went off. I unplugged and replug my recharger, thinking I probably did not plug it rightly. The charger light was not blinking. I did not want my cellphone to get exploded; hence I just unplugged it. There was an old man staring suspiciously at me while I tried to recharge my cellphone. I stared back at him, and he just walked passing me. I was not sure whether I did something wrong that made him stared at me like that. I put my charger back into my big, purple bag.

The time was 9.45 am. My next plan was to buy a train ticket at a ticket counter. I followed the signboards that guided me to the way to the ticket counter. I reached at the counter after 10 minutes waking while dragging my purple bag. Since I was not sure the exact trains to go to the London Liverpool Street Station, I asked a woman at the counter. She politely taught me which trains that I was supposed to use. She also mentioned that I needed to transit at Holbron Station before taking another train to London-Liverpool Street Station. After paying 5 £ for a train ticket and said thank you to the woman, I straight carried my purple bag walking along a tunnel, went down using an escalator and walked again into a small tube leading me to the train track. There, I waited the next train to arrive with the other passengers. I stood next to an Australian man. His arms filled with tattoo. Then I turned my view to the walls along the track. I saw a map that show other next stations that the train would stop after and before the Heathrow Station, a big sign of Heathrow Underground Station and three big advertisements of any activities in London. The train finally arrived after 10 minutes waiting. I carried my heavy, purple bag into the train, and I put it at the luggage area near to my seat. After all passanggers boarding, the train made a move to the next station, the Hatton Cross.

To help and not to help

After stopping at the Hatton Cross Station, the train then moved to the next stations; Hounslow West, Hounslow Central, Hounslow East, Osterley, Boston Manor, Northfields, South Ealing, Acton Town, Hammersmith, Baron Court, Gloucester Road, Knightbridge, Hyde Park Corner, Green Park, Piccaddilly Circus, Leicester Square and Covent Garden. Along the journey, the train passed a long red, black tube tunnel. All the sign stations have the same design as in the Heathrow Station. The sign is a combination of a white circle that overlaps on a red big circle and a blue horizontal crossing the two circles. The station name was written on the blue horizontal. I fixed my eyes on each sign by looking through the train windows until I saw the Holbron Station sign. After the train fully stopped, I went out together with the other passengers.  I dragged my heavy bag along the way out from the Piccadilly Line tunnel and straight went to the escalator that would bring me to the Central Line tunnel. After using the escalator, I went to the tunnel to get a train to the Liverpool Street Station. I did not expect that there would be no ESCALATORS to go down to the underground tunnel, except staircases. I started to think on how to carry my heavy bag down the stairs. I saw three Indian young men walked to my direction. I stopped and then politely asked them to help me.

“I’m sorry. Could you help me, please? My bag is so heavy, and I don’t think I can carry this bag down the stairs.”

The three of them were willing to help me to carry my bag. One of the men said that my bag was too heavy for me a small, petite woman to carry all the way to the next station. I just smiled at him. After dropping my bag on the last step, I thanked them for helping me. I dragged my bag again until the next tunnel and again I saw another staircase. I was speechless and stood for a while, to think to get some helps or not. Suddenly there was a charming Englishman tapped on my shoulder.

“You seem have a problem with your bag. You want me to carry it down.”

He smiled looking at me. I just said YES and Thanks to him.

“Sorry my bag is heavy.”

“Oh my wife’s bag is even heavier than your bag. I’m used to carry her bag, and she will carry mine.”

I giggled listening to what he said about his wife’s bag. Both of us went down to the last step, and he put down on my bag. I thanked him again for helping me. I dragged my bag until I reached at the waiting area. It was not a long waiting for me. When the train stopped, I dragged my bag into the train and then sat on a long bench. I put my purple bag next to the door near to my seat. I looked around of me. Suddenly I noticed an old Muslim man and a young man. Both of them sat opposite of me. The old man tried to start a conversation with that young man.

“Are you Muslim?”

The young man nodded his head agreeing to what the old man said. Then the old man started to preach about Allah and Islam teachings to the young man. As I closed to both of them, I could listen every detail of what the old man said to that young man.

“Allah is good. Allah will help those who help poor people. Islam teaches us to help our people. Do you agree that a good Muslim is the one who always helps others who are in trouble?”

The young man nodded his head. The old man continued his conversation.

“Young man, I am a poor old man. I want to go to the next station, but I don’t have enough money to buy a ticket. You are a Muslim, and as a Muslim, you will not mind to help me to give some money.”

I was shocked to see a drama that was set in front of me. I thought the old man wanted to preach about the goodness of Islam, but the truth the old man wanted to beg from the young man. The young man said he did not have coins to give. I noticed that he was not comfortable entertaining the old man. The old man tried to beg him again. Maybe the young man fed up with him; he just ignored the man’s plea. Suddenly the old man said nasty words to the young man.

“You are totally not a good Muslim. Allah will not help you if you are in trouble. I just asked for two pounds, but you don’t want to help me. You are really a bad Muslim. You will not get rewards from Allah. Shame on you.”

When the train stopped at the next station, the old man went out. Throught the train windows, I saw him stopped another young man. I bet the young man was a Muslim student based on his apparent. Both of them greeted according to the Islamic way. Before the train started to move, I had seen the young man had tried to get his wallet from his pocket. I assumed the old man already had his victim.

From the Liverpool Street Station to Stowmarket Station

Less than 25 minutes, the train reached the Liverpool Street Station. I took my bag and went out from the train. The Liverpool Street Station was a large station. From afar, I could see the ticket counter. I dragged my bag to the counter. Again, I saw a staricase go up to the counter. I suddenly hated staircases. I was so tired and sat down on my bag. I looked at a 30 plus years old man. He looked at me too. I stood up, approached that man and asked a help from him.

“Excuse me, could you help me to carry my bag to the upstairs.”

He smiled at me.

“I can see you look tired, and your big bag. I’m glad you ask help from me.”

“I just a bit shy to ask help from you. My bag is so heavy for me to carry to the upstairs.”

He tried to carry my bag.

“Oh my, this is really heavy.”

“I have told you so.”

After helping me, I thanked him for his kindness. I went to the counter, and the man at the counter,  asked me to go to the next counter on the left side of the station. I learned that the counter was for the underground train while the other counter was for the regional trains. I went to the next counter, and a man greeted me. The man suggested me to buy a return ticket as it was cheaper than buying a single-ride ticket, but I declined. I just paid about 25 pounds for a way ride.

The time was almost 2 pm, and I was hungry. I bought a sandwich, but I could only eat half of it. I was so exhausted, and plus again I started to feel the jag lag. My body was 6 hours late than in the UK time. I waited outside of the gate until the train-worker opened the gate and let passengers went into the train. I dragged my bag and in front of me were a couple. The man entered into the train first while her wife helped him to bring their two bags into the train. I patiently waited both of them to finish storing their bags. The man saw me with my big bag, and he offered his help to bring my bag into the train. He told me that my bag was very heavy. I smiled and thanked him. We chatted for a while. From our conversation, I found out that they are from Canada, and they wanted to visit their daughter in UK. I chose to sit at a table seating on the left side while the couple sat the other table seating on the right side. Soon, many passengers came in and fulfilled many seats. A Spanish couple sat and shared the table seating with me. By 2.45 pm, the train started its journey to Norwich. Along the way out from London, I saw a big stadium that was under construction. The stadium would be used for the 2012 Olympic Game. A ticket conductor came to check a ticket from every passenger. Almost an hour, the train stooped at the first station, Colchester. The Canadian couples and few passengers went down. Both of them said goodbye to me. After 10 minutes stopping, the train continued its journey to the next station, Ipswich. I was preoccupied with the scenery outside of the window, until I did not listen to the announcement that those who wanted to go to Stowmarket, must embark at the Ipswich Station first before heading to Stowmarket.

Once the train stopped at the Ipswich Station, almost everybody went down. After 10 minutes, I looked around me, and there were five passengers still sat on their places. I saw a Chinese boy sat on the opposite side of my seat. The train continued again to the next destination. I was sure it would stop at Stowmarket Station. After fifteen minutes departure from the Ipswich Station, I saw an old building that had a “Stowmarket” word written on its wall. I knew I would be arrived soon. After ten minutes passing the old building, I felt uneasy, as the train did not stop. I asked the Chinese boy whether the train would stop at the Stowmarket Station. He said yes, and then I sat for a while.

Suddenly the boy said to me “Madam, I think this train will stop at the next station, not the Stowmarket Station. I am sorry. I suggest that you ask from the ticket conductor on how you are going to get to the Stowmarket. I’m really sorry.”

I was shocked after knowing I already passed the Stowmarket. I saw the ticket conductor on the way to my seat. I approached him. I told him about my ordeal, and he said I could stop at the next station. Not long after that, the train stopped again. I went to the bag storage and carried my big, heavy luggage out from the train. I took a breath, put my luggage on the floor and looked around. There was a crossing bridge and an office on the opposite side from where I was standing. I sat down on my luggage, and started to think on how to carry my heavy luggage to cross over the bridge. There was no lift or even an elevator. From far away, I saw a young Englishwoman in a black uniform. She could be the staff of the UK National Rail. I approached her and asked whether she wanted to help me to carry my luggage.

“Excuse me. Could you help me? My luggage is quite heavy. I want to go to the other side. This bag needs two women to carry.”

She tried to carry my luggage, and put it back on the floor.

“Oh my! Did you carry an elephant inside your bag?”

I chuckled listening to what she said. We devised our plan on how we were going to carry my bag to the other side. She took a hand carry on the left, while me on the right. We dragged the bag up on the bridge stairs, crossed the bridge, and then walked down the stairs on the other side. At the end of stairs, we took our breath and laughed together for how silly we were carried that bag in an awkward way. I said thank you to her, and she told me to take the second train that would bring me to the Stowmarket. Within 20 minutes, the train arrived, and I dragged in my bag into the train. After putting my bag on the luggage storage, I sat down on the last seats row. Within 15 minutes, the train already arrived at the Stowmarket. I dragged my bag out from the luggage storage and went out from the body of train. Finally, I set my feet on the final destination. The train continued on to the next station. I was alone at the Stowmarket Station. I did not see Penny. The time was 3.15 pm, and I was a bit shivering. The weather was a bit cold on that day. I pulled out my fleece jacket from my backpack and covered my body with it. I wanted to go the other side of the station, and asking if I could charge my Blackberry, but I was tired to carry that heavy bag. I dragged my bag to the bridge stairs and sat on my bag.

Suddenly, I heard someone called my name.

 “Dency!!!!!!!!”

I turned my back and there I saw Sister Penny waved her hands and the other side. She ran across the bridge, and when we met, we hugged. I knew that I was safe.  

The Final Meeting at San Francisco

(20-21 April 2011, San Francisco)

Meet again               

I arrived at the underground BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) Civic Center Station. I took out my large, purple bag out from the BART train and straight went to the EXIT area. I was a bit lost to find a way to go to the United Nation Plaza. I was supposed to meet Aparpon there. I stopped a woman, and I asked her the direction to go to the plaza. To my surprise, it is above the underground station. She told me to use the EXIT escalator to go out from the station. I thank you to her, and I dragged my bag to the escalator. On the way to the escalator, I saw two musicians, a White American, and an African-American. Both of them were playing violins. However, each of them had their own styles of playing violin. The white man played with a full of energy, and few people tossed their money into a violin suitcase. The African-American man, he played his violin but without any sounds. His violin was broken. I realized he just a bagger with a wheel-chart, who imitated the white man. Their acts made me smile.  

Above the station, I saw a United Plaza Coffee Shop on the left side. I was at the right place. I made a call telling to Aparpon that I already arrived in the United Plaza area. I asked her to find me near to a fountain. After 15 minutes waiting, I saw her walked into my direction. I was glad that finally I could meet her again, after she moved out from LSU to San Francisco before Christmas, last year. On the day, she flew to San Francisco; I was in Houston with Lina’s family. She did not pass her English exam in LSU, and she decided to try her luck in San Francisco. I could not ask her to postpone her flight until I came back from Houston. We just said goodbye through our mobile phones. Hence, my ultimate aim to fly to San Francisco was to meet her. I would like to spend with her within 24 hours, as our meeting would be the last meeting for both of us in the USA. Within two weeks, she would fly back to her country, Thailand.

“Dency.”

I turned my back and saw her. She ran towards me and hugged me. We were happy as we managed to see each other again. We did not want to waste our time and began our walked to her apartment at Polk Street. Par needed to see her aunt in one of the shopping complexes at Powell Street. On the way to her apartment, I saw the City Hall and ASIAN Museum of Art. Aparpon or affectionately known as Par, pointed a small building where she took her English and GRE course. I only saw a small building that located across of another street. Not long after, we reached at a bus station. Our conversation never ended there. We talked about our life and then Par mentioned there was a bomb scare near to her school, a week ago. She described that there was a man standing at the roadside. He shouted to people along the street that he carried a bomb. It was a small bomb attached to his body. The authority managed captured him, and they denote the bomb. Listening to Par’s story, I suddenly remembered the September 11 attack. I could not believe that San Francisco can be another target by suicide bombers or terrorists. I asked Par whether the man had been caught, but she told me that she did not hear any news about that man after the incident.

We saw a bus was coming to the bus stop where we stood. Par asked me to get ready USD2. She told me that I could use the ticket bus for a day. This was the first time I came to know that a bus ticket could be used repeatedly from one station to another station within a day. I could say that the public transportation companies in San Francisco City were exceedingly generous with the San Franciscans. The bus stopped in front of us. We entered in and paid USD2 each to the bus driver. Then we sat at the back and continued with our conversation. Within 10 minutes, we reached at her place.

We went down from the bus, and then crossed the street to Par’s apartment. Par carried my bag to a building that looked like an inn for me. When I was inside, I saw the interior of that building was modest, with red carpets covered the whole floors and the walls were painted in white. Par’s apartment was at the third floor. Both of us climbed the stairs and walked to her apartment. When she opened her apartment door, I saw two beds in the living room, a kitchen on the right and a bedroom on the left. I realized that there were three of them inside the apartment. The living room was a bit untidy, but I did not mind for that. I changed my clothes to dress a little thick. We expected the weather would be cold, rainy and windy.

We went out, across the street and stood waiting for the next bus at the same bus stop. I saw an African-American man in shabby clothes sat down on the bench. Par told me not to look at the man too long, as he might ask money from me. I just could not understand why she warned me, and I asked why.  

“He is a homeless man. They are truly terrible. They like to ask money and food, without looking for jobs. Many of them are lazy. Some of them don’t have any qualifications that would allow them to work here. No job, then no money.”

I was a bit pity on them, but Par was right. There is nothing free in this world. The bus arrived, and we showed our tickets to the driver. Less than 10 minutes, we arrived at our destination. I was astounded looking at the old and new buildings lined along the Powell Street. There was an open stage at the middle of the area. Par became my tour guide, explained that the Powell Street is a heaven for hard shoppers. Par then brought me to the Nordstorm Building, one of the shopping complexes in the street. Inside, I saw many outlets sold branded American and European products. Par and I went to a handbag department at second floor, and met her aunt there, as she wanted her aunt to help her to change the Longchamp handbag to COACH. After exchanging the bag, we went to Calvin Kline outlet. Par wanted to change her two months old handbag to a new one. It was a common practice in the USA, as you could change the branded product that you had bought to a new one within two or three months, as long as you kept the purchasing receipt.

Then, we went out from the Nordstorm and entered into the H & M store. I supposed not to spend my money in the city, but the cheap price displayed for each cloth could not stop my desire to buy one khakis trouser, one black legging, two shirts and one flowery skirt. The total price was USD65. Next, we went to the American Eagle outlet. Again, I spent my money buying two shirts for my brothers, a girl top for my sister, and a jean jacket for myself. The time was 9.30 pm, and both of us decided to try Thai’s food at a Thai restaurant. The restaurant belonged to the same company where Par worked as a part-timer. Par did not work at the restaurant, but as a worker in the same company, she could get 25 % discount. We ordered a large bowl of Tom Nyam soup, a plate of chicken rice and a plate of Piad Thai. Within 15 minutes, the waitress put the ordered foods on our table. We tried to taste the food, and we were a bit disappointed as the foods were not hot, as we wanted to. We did not care so much, as we were hungry. While savouring our foods, we continued talking about her life after moving out from LSU.

“Dency, my life here is a bit hard. Not like in LSU. Everything is so expensive here. That’s why I have to work at the Thai’s restaurant that I had showed while we were on the bus. I work two days in a week. In a day, I could get USD100, but I was tired after doing my part-time job.”

I listened to her story and put myself in her shoes. It was hard for me to imagine her situation then. She continued with her story.

“My housemate, the one that has a boyfriend, she did not come back home for two days already.  They have problems in their relationship. My other housemate, she loves to socialize, but she knows how to make business here. She would buy cheap clothes and shoes here, and then she sold back at fantastic prices in Thailand. In a month, she will make a profit of USD2000. Sometime, I don’t like both of them. They played loud music and disturbed me when I tried to sleep. There was one time I told them to slow down the volume. For four months, I lacked  sleeping. You see I already have dark circles around my eyes.”

I pitied Par. She continued saying that she needed to pay USD400 even though she slept in a living room, where when she was in Baton Rouge, she just paid me UD300 to rent a small room in my apartment. Living in San Francisco is just as if you stay in Kuala Lumpur. Three thousand Ringgit Malaysia would be not enough to accommodate your living expenses in Kuala Lumpur compare to my hometown, Kuching. Par also mentioned that, many University graduate students from Thailand would come to San Francisco looking for jobs and experiences. Most of them will end up become blue workers in restaurants or small shops. Others come here to study English, and try to enroll themselves to study in the USA. We talked for almost one hour. After paying the foods, we went out walking along the street. We smelled tea-leaves were burned after passing a group of men. Par mentioned that men smoked pot or marijuana. The smell was invigorating, and Par mentioned that she loved to smell it. I just laughed at her for being an addicted second smoker.

The bus had already stopped at the bus station, while we reached there. We jumped into the bus. Within 30 minutes, we were in Par’s apartment. I met Par’s shopaholic housemate. Par introduced her to me. I left Par and her housemate gossiped about their other housemate, while I excused myself to take a bath before getting myself to have a slumber sleep with Par.

The final hours

The next day, we went to Par’s favourite coffee shop at Polk Street. After almost 30 minutes enjoyed drinking San Francisco coffee and blueberry donuts, we decided to go to Laguna Street. Along the way to the Street, we saw many beautiful, unique double story terrace houses just like in the old drama series “Full House”. I always thought the “Full Houses” were located only in one street, just like in the drama, but I was wrong. The houses are everywhere and at any streets. I took many pictures of those houses. Then, we walked again. I asked Par about her future, whether she would like to come to LSU to further her study next year.

“Are you planning to come back to LSU? I still want you to be my housemate.”

Par smiled and said.

“I’m not sure Dency. You know my Dean; he likes to change his policy. I managed to get a place in the UK, but the university is not the top ten universities. I want to do my Phd in the USA. If I could not make it, maybe I just go to your country. I’m thinking to enroll in UUM or USM. Next week, I will sit for the last GRE exam. I hope I can pass my GRE. Again, it depends on my employer also, whether they want to send me to the USA.”

I silent for a while, and then encouraged her.

“Take your time. We never know, what is going to happen in our future. Make sure you pass your GRE. You already passed our English TOEFL. Within two years, you can decide which one is the best for you. If you do your Phd in Malaysia, we can meet again in Kuala Lumpur, or I can visit you in Bangkok. It’s not so far from my hometown, Kuching.”

Par smiled.

“Ya, we can meet in Bangkok. I can be your tour guide.”

Both of us smiled, and we continued our conversation about San Francisco and Par’s two housemates. Not long and we reached the Japanese neighborhood in Laguna Street. We explored that area and took many pictures. Time flew so fast. We went back to Par’s apartment. Not long after that, Helena called me that she would be a bit late. Par wanted to this one electrical shop. I followed her and to find out the company closed for lunchtime. We walked back slowly, allowing both of us to cherish the moment we had together. I received a call that Hellen and her husband were almost reaching Polk Street. I told Par that Hellen and her husband would be arrived within 10 minutes. We went to her apartment, carried down my bag and wait at the roadside. We did not see Hellen’s car parked at the opposite of the road until Cynthia who followed them, called me to look at the opposite road. I saw them stood next to a parked blue-grey car. We crossed the road and met them. I hugged all of them and introduced Par to them. For the moment, we did not say anything, and then Par broke the silent.

“Dency, we keep in touch through Facebook. No matter where we are, we still keep in touch.”

I nodded my head agreeing, and we hugged. I tried not to cry in front of her; instead, I put a smile on my face. Par then excused herself. We said goodbye to each other. I saw her crossed the road. At the other side, she waved her left hand goodbye to me for the last time. I waved back to her again, and then I entered into the car. When I looked at the side window car, I did not see Par anymore. I just looked at her apartment, and remembering the moment, we went through together in Baton Rouge, Louisiana to San Francisco, California. 

A morning on Eve Valentine's Day

(13 February 2011 at LSU, Baton Rouge)

Strolling along the lake

It is 6.30 am. I put on my shoes and wear my winter jacket. Then, I carry my backpack and put Richard’s binocular around my neck. Today, I am going to do bird watching at the LSU Lake. It is a cold early morning with the temperature of – 2 °C. I see fog engulfs a small field near to my apartment area. When I look down at small leaves along the side road to the lake, I notice the leaves covered with ice. It is a marvelous thing that I never see in my life before. I take few pictures of the ice-covered leaves. After taking few pictures, I continue on walking until I reach an area of oak trees. I cross the area, and I feel like walking in a mystic forest with fog surrounds the oak trees. I stand for a while, allowing myself to appreciate the nature beauty in the morning. Then, I continue on my journey until I reach the lake.

At the lake, I see a boy is watching a group of Egrets opposite of the lake using his binocular. I recognize the boy as one of students who takes the same bird course as me. I sit down on a bench, while waiting for him to finish his work. I open my backpack and take out the book of Field Guide Birds on Eastern of South America. I browse the book from one page to another, looking for the birds that I will observe at the lake area. I expect to see, Great and Snowy Egrets, Great Cormorants, Brown Pelican, Green Heron and many migrated birds. February is a perfect time to see migrated birds that are migrated from South America to North America. Louisiana is one of the stopping or transit area for these birds. I jot down few bird names that may be found at the lake, on a piece of white paper. It will make my observation easier without me struggling to open the Field Guide book again. After the boy has left that area, I start my observation. I adjust the lens focus of Richard’s binocular, and then put the lens parallel to my eye level.

I can see three Great Cormorants sit on a large trunk in the middle of the lake. I put down my binocular, and I reach my pen to write the number three next to the Great Cormorant that I had written on the piece of white paper. Then I put up the binocular, and suddenly I see a flock of Egrets on two large trees that grew along the lake. They are more than ten birds, but I cannot differentiate between the Snowy and Great Egrets from afar. I make a decision walking around the lake, and expecting that I can find more birds. While walking, suddenly I see a large brown bird, standing with one leg near to a sandy area. I suddenly know it must be the Great Blue Heron. It is a giant bird. I never see that bird in Sarawak. I slowly walk to see the bird closely. I stop at 50 meters away from it. Then, I straight take my camera out of my jacket pocket to shot a picture of that bird. I manage to get a clear shot. The bird feels my present, and it flips its wings to fly across the other side of the lake.

It is 7.30 am. The temperature steadily increases to 13 °C. Many joggers are already at the lake. I continue with my activity. I do not realize that the white paper contains the bird list dropped from my pocket.

“Excuse me, ma’am. You dropped your paper.”

An Asian man gives the bird list to me. I shock for a while, and realize that I have dropped the bird list. Luckily, he found it, and then gave it to me. I thank you to him, and he continues on jogging. After ten minutes walking, I see two male and one female Mallard ducks, swim happily. I jot down the number of the Mallards that I have seen on the bird list. I walk for another 50 meters, and I see a pair of Wood-Ducks on the branch of a tree. I just amaze to see both of the ducks perches on a tree. I cannot let the moment go, and I straight snap a photo of the male duck. As usual, I add more numbers for the duck species. I continue on walking, and meet two old women.

“Good morning.”

I reply the same words back to both of them. It is a common practice here, when there is a stranger greets you. They may say ‘Good morning’, ‘Good afternoon’ or ‘How are you?’ I seldom start greeting to them, as I know they will greet me, first. In Malaysia, it will be weird if there is a stranger politely greets you. It will be the same if we greet any strangers; they will look at us suspiciously. My first week I was in the USA, I felt weird, but eventually I used to the ‘friendly’ culture. I meet an old man with his dog, and I greet him. He smiles and greets me back. 

I walk and pass many grand houses that circling around the lake. There is one house with a small door covered with bushes. The door makes me remember a classic story, The Secret Garden, written by Frances Hodgson Burnett. I keep on walking until I stop at a big tree. I still remember three months after settling down in the Land of Freedom; I sat down crying alone to pacify my broken heart under of that tree. I do not want to think that, and I quickly opened my pace. I try to control myself, but I cannot contain my tears from straining down on my cheeks. I wipe my tears from my cheeks, and tell to my heart to be strong. I walk faster and faster, until I feel I need to stop. I look up in the sky to see a group of Least-Terns fly circling the lake. I walk while looking at the terns. I do not realize that I already reached the end of the lake. I look around, and suddenly I see a Green Heron, standing under a bridge. The bird becomes the last bird that I have seen on that morning. The time is 10.30 am. Three hours bird-watching shall be enough for me. I manage to list 11 species. I hope this assignment can help me to score 10 points bonus after failing to score full 10 points for my first quiz.

A poem for an Angel

I walk back to my apartment using the other route. At the junction to my apartment, I meet an old man with a shabby look. He carries a brown cardboard. There are words written on the cardboard, but I cannot see the words from afar. The more I approach the old man, the more clearly the words written on the cardboard. The old man wrote:

“I’m looking for a job so that I can buy food.”

I am speechless after knowing what was written on the cardboard. He wants people to hire him and pay him so that he can buy food. I have never seen anything like that in Malaysia. Beggars in Malaysia will ask money without putting much effort on how to find a job so that they can get money. When I close to that old man, he stops me.

“Hi, I’m John. Do you speak English? I’m cannot speak in Spanish.”

He thinks I am a Latin woman.

“You can speak English with me. I’m an Asian. I also cannot speak in Spanish.”

He smiles and then takes out a small white paper from his left pocket of his trouser.

“I want to read a poem for you. The title is ‘An Angel’. I want you to listen. You don’t mind spend five minutes listening to my poem?”

I ask him to read.

“There is an Angel. An Angel sent by God. She…..”

His poem is beautiful. I am carried away by his beautiful words. Once he finishes reading, he asks whether I like it. I just smile and nod my head. Then, he asks whether I have a job for him, so that he can get money for him to buy food. I feel guilty to tell him the truth that I also need money. Being a poor student, I need to be rigid with my spending.

“I’m sorry, I can’t help you. Maybe you will meet someone else that can give a job for you. I’m just a poor student. If I have extra money, I can give some for you to buy food. I wish I can. God can help you. Just pray to Him.”

He says.

“Every day, I pray to God so that He can help me. I know God will help me, but until when I need to suffer like this.”

I am stunned to hear his words. I motivate him that God is gracious and will not make him suffer too long.

“God always listens to our pleas. It just that, He will give His helps when the time is right. Since Adam and Eve disobeyed Him, we will always suffer in this world. But, God is gracious. He sent His only son, Jesus to save us. God does send His Angles to look after all of us. Perhaps, there is another Angel for you. You just need to be patient. Patient is LOVE. John, God do LOVE you.”

He smiles listening to my words.

“Dear Girl. You know what; you are already an Angel for me. You are right. I need to be patient. I will wait until there is someone willing to hire me. Thanks for your advice.”

I smile, and I give my hug to him. I do not know why I suddenly want to hug him. I see tears streaming down on his cheeks. After hugging, we say goodbye to each other. I continue on walking, and when I turn my back, John shouts at me.

“Happy Valentine’s Day. I love you my dear Angel.”

I receive the three magical words from a stranger on the Eve of Valentine’s Day. I wave at him, and he does the same. I know that I cannot hold my tears. I turn myself from looking at him, and then I walk as quickly as possible. I just let my tears flowing down for the second time. In my heart, I ask God to make myself be loved by those who love me.

Winter stories in Texas

(December 16 to 27, 2010 in Houston, Texas)

Stories from the Aggie

I stayed together with Roslinda for two days in College Station. On the second day there, we went to visit George Bush Presidential Library and Museum, the Gigantic Graduate Ring, the Aggie Bonfire Memorial and other campuses within the Texas A and M University. Roslinda told many stories about her University. There were two stories that touched my heart: the bonfire tragedy and the number twelve American football player. In the first story, she told about the twelve students (known as Aggies) who died while constructed a bonfire on the campus. The tragedy happened around Thanksgiving in 1999. From that on, the Aggies are not allowed to construct any bonfires within the university compound. The latter story, it is about a fan who volunteered himself as a substitute player during a big match between A and M University and Texas University. During the battle between the two teams, the Aggies lost one player due to the injury. However, they needed few points to win the game. One of the fans jumped out from his seat and ran to join with all the players. Eventually, the Aggies team won the game, and the story became a widely known throughout Texas.

The whole morning we spent time venturing the A and M University. In the afternoon, we went to the College Station Town. It is a small town, and I saw a railroad along the town. The shop buildings resemble the studio sets in the Cowboy movies. It was not a surprise for me as I was in the Cowboy state. We went back before 3 pm, as Roslinda would attend a meeting. We had our late lunch together. She went out by 3 pm, and I started baking a Honeycrumb cake for her. I just put the cake into the oven, when she arrived. That night we had our dinner eating the cake, roti canai and the leftover fruits that she brought from the meeting.

Apai Renduan’s Stories

On the third day, I took a ride with Roslinda’s friend to Houston City. She dropped me at the Macy Shopping Complex, as Lina and her family would meet me there. I know Lina from her relative in Sibu that coincidently has a family connection to my cousin’s wife. Her family is among the Dayak families from Sarawak that have made America as their second home. At Macy, I decided to wait for them at the Jessica Simpson’s booth that was located near the department exit door, and I sent a text message to let them know where I was about. After 20 minutes standing alone with my purple bag, I saw Lina and her husband approaching me. I was filled with joy knowing that I finally met Lina after a year chatting in Facebook. We hugged, and her husband carried my bag to their car that parked at the other side Macy. After putting my bag in their car, then three of us went to meet their children at a bookstore. There, Lina introduced her children, Renduan, Nanang and Ringau. I talked with Renduan, and found out she could speak in Iban. I was proud of her as she still can speak her parents’ mother tongue language.

We all have a coffee break in the bookstore. Then we went to the ice ring to see people skating around the ring. I was not interested with the skaters, but I was thrilled to see the gigantic Christmas tree. It was a living tree decorated with colourful lamps and ornaments. Lina took her husband’s camera, and asked me to become her model. I love people taking my photos. I did with many poses, and both of us enjoying what we were doing. We stopped when Apai (Father in Iban) Renduan called Lina to go to this eatery area. All of them were waiting us there. We all met there and decided to order Chinese food. When we all sat down and feasted ourselves with the food, Apai Renduan started to talk with me. He began to ask about my family and my study in LSU. He was so proud to know that his wife is making friend with a Dayung who is continuing her education in America. Then, he started to tell a story when he was an engineer with SHELL Miri, before he transferred to SHELL Texas. 

“I still remember when I was in Miri. My Dayak colleagues who worked in SHELL and I decided to set up a group dedicating to help Dayak students in Sarawak. Our main aim was to help Dayak students in education. We wanted to see many Dayak students have opportunities to go to universities. We visited many places to teach villagers about the importance of education. Even, many schools in Miri and other divisions, invited us to give a talk to students. While doing roadshows, we would try to find smart Dayak students and encourage them to apply for SHELL scholarships and other scholarships that were offered at that time. Dayak students from rural areas are not so lucky like the urban students. They were not aware any news about scholarships or any college openings. Hence, we would inform any college or scholarship openings to them. We even helped them to fill in the forms. Even though we sacrificed a lot of time to be together with family, we were happy and glad to have supportive wives who understand our volunteer and charity work”. He looked up and smiled after telling me about what his friend and he did.

“Wow, that is awesome. It’s not an easy job to do. You are so lucky to have Indai Renduan that understands your work and your ambition to help our people in Sarawak.” I gave a salute sign to him.

“Dency, this story might interest you. This story was 7 years ago. We visited a long house in Baram. We met this one old woman. She mentioned to us all that she has a nephew. His name is Satu. She wanted her nephew to further his tertiary education, since he scored well in his Form Six examination. However, the problem was he did not have a birth certificate and IC (Identity Card) to let him to apply to further his study. One thing, they are poor. The boy has to look after his brother and sister. Their parents divorced, and their auntie adopted them. When we visited them, Satu was not there. His auntie said he was working in a Shell pump station, in Baram. We all did not want to waste our time; we started to look for him. We forgot to ask the location of the pump station where the boy was working.” Apai Renduan stopped to drink, and then he continued his story.

“We decided to stop at any pump stations and asked the station managers whether they hired the boy. Before that, we prayed to God to help us search for that boy. I drove my car, and let my instinct told me. Then I saw a pump station, and I felt that I must stop there for a while. I parked my car, and I asked the young pump attendant whether he knew Satu. To our surprise, the pump attendant said his name is Satu. We were so glad to find Satu. We told him about his auntie and her intention to see him to have a success in his life. He told to us that he wanted to further his study, but he did not have those two important documents. We assured him that we would help him. Within a month, we managed to get those two documents for him and even for his other siblings. Then, we tried to apply a place in UNIMAS for him. UNIMAS accepted his application, and he must register within two weeks. We called his auntie to ask him to come to Kuching to register himself at UNIMAS. We were shocked to hear that the boy was out in the sea, working as an assistant trawler. We have to call the ship manager to ask him to come back to the shore. It took us for almost a week to wait for him. Once he arrived at the port we brought him straight to UNIMAS.” Apai Renduan sipped his drink again.

“Owh, you all amazed me. God was good to you all and to the boy. I’m glad Satu managed to further his study in UNIMAS. Did you all see him again?” I asked Apai Renduan whether they met Satu again.

“Yes, we did after almost a year we sent him there. We went to UNIMAS for a roadshow, as well as to meet Satu. When we walked near the football field, we saw a young man ran into our direction. We all shocked to know that man was Satu. He saw us walking and abandoned his friends just to meet us. He was so happy and told his life in UNIMAS. That was 7 years ago. I am sure he got his degree and now working. I missed all those time. When my friends and I transferred to any parts of the world, the charity and volunteer club dissolved. We were sad, but what we could do. We are hoping there will be other Dayak clubs that could help all Dayak students. You are an educated young woman; for sure you can help our people.” Apai Renduan expressed his hope that other educated Dayaks in Sarawak will continue their work.

“Apai Reduan, there are Sarawak Dayak Graduate Association or SDGA and Bidayuh Graduate Association or BGA that can help our Dayak students. I’m myself a BGA member, but not an active member. I’m still studying, and after I finish my Phd here, I will come back to serve our people. Of course, I would like to help our people.” I assured him.

“That’s what I want to hear from young people like you. May God guide you always.” He was glad to hear my assurance.

For almost an hour, we sat down eating our dinner while listening to Apai Renduan’s story. After that, we all went back to their house at Katy. At home, Apai Renduan and I continued with our conversation. He talked about his undergraduate life in the UK. Most of his stories were entertaining. We talked until the time was almost 12 am. I yawned and I knew it was sleeping time for me. I excused myself and said good night to all of them, and they back greeted good night to me.

Stories of Malaysian families

I enjoyed doing many family activities during my stay with Lina’s family. On the first day, we went to church together. At church, I met Inna and her three sons. Her eldest son is Miah, followed by the middle Paul and the youngest Wawa. Her husband, Fitz was not with them. I soon found out from Lina that Inna was expecting her husband to arrive in Houston from Kuala Lumpur. Inna and her husband are old friends of my adopted brother, Dr. Sylvester Arnab. After the mass, we all went to the Fung’s Kitchen, one of the Chinese restaurants in Houston. At that restaurant, Inna found out that Dr. Sylvester and I are close friends. It seems my world is quite small, and I know a new friend from someone I close with. We all had a fabulous lunch together. It was my first time I ate real Chinese food in America. Then we went to Asian Market to buy Asian food. In the afternoon, Lina and Apai Renduan, Renduan and me went to La Centera that is located near to their house. It was an evening of glamorous between four of us. Renduan and I became free models, while her parents took photos of both of us. We took few photos in front of the Christmas tree and with Mr. Santa Claus. On the next day, we all family went to the Moody Garden in Galveston. There was a light festival in the Garden. We again had our fun together taking pictures with all decorated lights in the garden. The next day, we all busy prepared food, as we would have a dinner together with Fitz’s family and Tom’s family. I thought Renduan how to bake the Honeycrumb cake, while Lina cooked laksa Sarawak.

About 7 pm, Tom’s family arrived first, and then followed by Fitz’s family. I was glad to meet Mary’s family, and we talked in my father’s language. Mary introduced her children, Al and Amy. Al had just arrived from London. He is doing his undergraduate study in the UK. Inna also introduced Fitz to me, and Fitz was glad to know that I am Sylvester’s adopted sister. The three Dayak families and a Dayung had fun together eating all Sarawakian food. Then all children did their own stuff. The old folks including me just sat down drinking wine, listening to the men’s stories as well as talking about our life in Malaysia and the USA. From their conversation, I found out that SHELL sent Fitz to Kuala Lumpur for a year, and he left his family in Houston as his children are still schooling. For almost a year, Inna became a father and a mother to their three sons. They just communicated through phone and SKYPE. Fitz mentioned how he gave an hour sons-father section every day to Miah and Paul, and another one-hour with Wawa. Inna just smiled listening to Fitz’s story. Then, she talked how Wawa stood outside of their bedroom in the early morning afraid that his father would fly again, and he would miss saying goodbye. Fitz told him that he would never fly away again without him, and he smiled and wanted his father to bring him back to sleep. Everybody was so touch listened to Inna’s story. Fitz and Inna are a truly blessed couple with wonderful children. We were so proud of two of them for making a one-year separation, a blessed year for their family.

On the eve of Christmas Day, I met another family, The Praba’s family. They are from West Malaysia, but Mr. Praba ever worked in SHELL Miri before with Apai Renduan, Samak (Father in Bidayuh) Al and Fitz. The Praba’s family and I went to church together to celebrate Christmas Mass. Then, we all went to Fitz and Inna’s house for a small family-Christmas gathering. Inna prepared the green mug porridge for all of her guests, while others exchanged Christmas gifts to each other. I was chuckled to see Wawa showed his gift, a train that was given by Apai Renduan, to Fitz. Everyone was so happy receiving gifts. Then we continued with our usual activity, exchanging stories, and I just listened to their captivating stories. They talked about their children education. They expressed their willingness to continue their working contract with SHELL Texas for the sake of their children’s future. Mr. Praba mentioned that he accepted a job position in ESSO Texas after a year retired from SHELL, so that both of them can be together with their children in Houston. Their children are undergraduate students in A and M Texas University. Listening to their stories, I suddenly remembered my family back in Kuching. My mother did call me early in the morning, and she said Merry Christmas to me. They celebrated 14 hours ahead of us in the USA. I certainly missed my own family, but the feeling evaporated in the air when I was with all of the Malaysian families. Suddenly the clock chimed at 12 o’clock, and we all tossed our wine glasses and said Merry Christmas to everybody. 

A story of a Bidayuh man

On the second day of Christmas, Apai Renduan’s family, Fitz’s family and I went to Kemah Boardwalk. It is a rides and amusements park, which is located about 30 minutes’ drive from Houston City and near to the Mexico Gulf. We moved first while Fitz’s family stopped somewhere to buy jackets for Fitz and Wawa. It was not a long enough for all of us to meet again at Kemah. We all walked along the Boardwalk and took many pictures. Wawa did play a few rides in that park. He is such an adorable, smart and talkative boy. We then took sunset pictures at the Gulf. Inna and I sat down on a chair looking at sea, and the rest continued on taking more photos. Inna then asked a question.

“Dency, are you closed to Sylvester?” I said yes to Inna, and she continued asked from me again.

“Then, I guess you know one of our old friends. He is a Bidayuh like Sylvester and you. He went to the same college together with Sylvester, Fitz and I.” 


I said to her that Sylvester never mentioned about his other friend except Fitz and her.

Inna told me that their Bidayuh friend was an ex-roommate to Sylvester. He is the son of a prominent leader in Sarawak. She could only recall the first letter of his name. I asked Inna, why she told the story of her old friend. She just smiled and said she just wanted me to know about him. Then, Fitz called Inna to join with all of them taking family pictures. She ran to meet her husband, and I left alone standing near to the chair. I looked towards the sea, and I started talking to myself.

“Who is that dari (man in Bidayuh)?” my heart said.

Suddenly, I saw a white seabird flying across the Gulf. I smiled looking at the bird. I believed, the bird was just like a messanger from God, asking me to know and make friend with that Bidayuh man. Only Sylvester could help me to connect me with that man. I came back to reality, when Inna shouted my name to join with all of them. I ran towards them, and stood next to Miah before Apai Renduan clicked his camera.