Is there good in suffering?
WILDE’S VIEW: Many would say yes. But…
LIVING is hard when every day dies before you as soon as it awakens. Every good thought struggles to breathe, but every strand of gloom strangles in strength. In such a time as this, suffering becomes more than a word, and more like a nightmare without end.
I sail in this troubled sea now, and many do I see. And much do I learn. Refugees fleeing persecution, women betrayed by their husbands, parents with little or no money for their children, souls consumed by illness and sorrow, and many more disillusioned with life.
Here, in this tale, is one of them. He is Jenaris’ “soya man” Mohd Redza.
He sits on a wheelchair on the grassy verge, between a playground where laughter runs free, and a road where machines run fast.
The midday sun beats down on his umbrella, imprisoning him in the shade but opening up his trade. One by one the customers come, in cars and on motorcycles, grabbing a bottle or two of ice-cold soyabean milk.
I get a low stool from The Lady and plant myself near Redza. He knows me, for I am a customer, too. We have spoken to each other before, but only about his business.
He shows me his icebox. “Six bottles left,” he grins, glistening beads of sweat lining his face and drenching his moustache and thin goatee. “It is only 1pm.”
I give him the thumbs up. After a while, I ask him to tell me his story.
Softly does he speak, so soft that I can barely make out the words. I lean towards him.
“I was on a motorcycle riding pillion. I don’t know why it happened, but a car rammed into us from behind.
“When I awoke, it was more than a month later. I had been in a coma. It took me more than a year to recover, to be able to stand and move on crutches. I returned to school to resume my studies in Form 5. But it was very hard.”
Redza and I talk a great deal about the accident. About his friend who was also badly hurt, and about the physical pain that refused to leave him.
A boy walks into our midst, but we are so engrossed in conversation that we do not at first notice him. When I finally do, I gesture to Redza to attend to him. He takes two bottles.
Redza points to the sky. “I think this hot weather will not last very long.” He is probably right. Far above the green peak of Bukit Azam dark clouds are arraying against the sun.
“But how did you end up in the wheelchair?”
“I was in a lot of pain for 10 years after the accident. Finally, I had a hip replacement surgery. It would have been the end of my problems, but I fell at home and the implant was damaged.”
That day in 2014, he says with a wince, marked the beginning of the greatest trials in his life. He underwent another operation to put in a new prosthesis, but a terrible thing happened. A nerve was hurt, and suddenly, the strength went out of his right leg.
For two months he lay on a hospital bed, unable to do anything but rue his misfortune. Day after day passed, the sun rose and light came, but for him the only constant was gloominess.
“My wife left her job to take care of me and our newly born child. When I left the hospital, I really didn’t think I had a future. Until the time of the operation, I had many dreams, so many things I wanted to do. But everything was shattered.
“I even told my wife that in my state, I had nothing to offer her. I was helpless. But she remained by my side throughout it all.
“It is hard to describe my feelings then. Every day was despairing.”
Did the awful circumstances change?
“A little. Towards the end of last year, my health improved and I went back to work,” he says. “She (his wife) drove me every day in our old Kancil for months.
“With this wheelchair, I am still able to work. But this year, I decided that I needed to do more for my family. So I started selling soyabean drinks on my day off on Saturday.”
What helped him get through those days laden with darkness?
At first, Redza makes no answer. He merely stares at his unresponsive leg. Then he says, “It is still very tough. But I keep thinking of my family, my parents and my parentsin-law who have been so good to me, and I pray. That sustains me”.
In Scripture, it is written that “suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope”. For Redza, and for countless others, living is hard. But hope has sprung from his suffering. May it be the same when our turn comes.
davidchristy@nst.com.my
The writer has