A PICTURE OF TRUE MALAYSIANS
Homecomings are packed with reunions disguised as trips to meet old classmates
DURING the last few years, reunions had gained momentum as we all hit the “six series” and it was as if time was running out and we had to renew ties, relive moments and look back at the journey we had had together.
This last homecoming wasn’t that much different. The planning had started a few months before; gathering friends from primary and secondary schooldays was made easier by Facebook and WhatsApp.
All too soon, black-and-white pictures of schoolgirls in a row appeared in our WhatsApp chat group, followed by clamouring of “which one are you?”, “how come I can’t remember so and so” and “what was that occasion?”
It was a moment when an overdose of gingko wouldn’t be a bad thing.
Out came black-and-white pictures of us in flares, platform shoes and on minibikes making peace signs: for we were children of the flower power days!
I approached this Reunion of Class 1961-1971, St Nicholas Convent, Alor Star, with much trepidation and apprehension, and with good reasons, too.
For 46 years, I went through life blissfully ignorant of the fact that I had been remembered for my lopsided, or crooked smile! And, of course, that fringe that was like a curtain over my eyes! All this while I thought I had acquired that coy look long before Princess Diana made it fashionable!
As we were scattered all around the world and throughout the peninsula, we had our first reunion in Alor Star in a small roadside restaurant. Food wasn’t important as the 10 of us hugged and chatted, and relived our childhood years.
All of a sudden, memories of queuing up to get orders of new textbooks, ironing pleats of school uniforms and standing in line listening to the morning prayers, came flooding back. And of sharing trishaw rides with my school chum, Gaik Hong, who usually saved me from standing in the heat waiting for the school bus.
The Kuala Lumpur reunion was much bigger although at our age, many of us had to get away from granny duties and slip out for a much-long awaited get-together. We couldn’t afford and certainly would not be given another 46 years to meet up again!
Chef Ismail’s Rebung was our venue and in the privacy of the Blue Room, we were transported back to those days of strict disciplining by the nuns, of Scottish and Irish jigs instead of inang and joget, that we performed at the stadium during special occasions.
Looking around the table at the 20 of us who made it that day, I felt nothing much had changed. Yes, we all had a headful of grey hair, much padded around the waist and a host of grandchildren to be proud of. Some still maintained their youthful looks. But listening to the chatter and squeals of laughter, we were still the convent schoolgirls of St Nicholas Convent; who hated Domestic Science, enjoyed Talentime and yearly performances, and the occasional trips to the cinemas when given free tickets.
It wasn’t about who had climbed the highest on the corporate ladder, or how much stocks and shares we had acquired and how impressive our CVs were.
We had passed beyond that and were just thankful that we are still around while many have gone to meet our Maker.
Last year, I had another reunion with a difference. With a group of Mass Communication classmates, we decided to travel to Kuching in Sarawak to meet friends who were more like siblings to us.
Our regrouping was made after the passing of a dear friend and we promised ourselves that we shouldn’t allow this to happen again; that is reconnecting only after the passing of a friend.
Of course, at our age, one after another went; but not after several mengeteh sessions and reliving old fun days and nights at “mamakteria”.
We even went back to the campus in Shah Alam and walked down memory lane to the multistorey and up the 13th floor.
All we could remember were toyol and carom sessions. Not much was mentioned about studies except for the crush some of us had had on some lecturers.
There are many negative things about reunions, about settling old scores, about rekindling old love and breaking up marriages; but to me looking at the reunion pictures that we had recently, the picture of the true Malaysians that we were, will certainly be cherished.
It will always remind me of the society that we lived in and hope that it will not be impossible to have again.