A Not So Close Friend

Advanced Project 4 (Storytelling Manual) : The Touching Story

Time 6–8 minutes

Objectives

• Understand the techniques available to arouse emotion
• Become skilled in arousing emotions while telling a story

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Do you believe that people, who are in coma, can really hear you?

Ladies & Gentlemen,

Back in 2002, I spent two years with the same classmates. For both years, sitting in the front line of the classroom was a friend, named Ahadiah. We call her, Ahad.

She was a soft spoken, fair and pretty girl. She didn’t talk so much but once she spoke, she spoke firmly. I like seeing her walk, talk or even sit. It is because I saw her as an elegantly beautiful girl. In contra, even I am also beautiful, but I was noisy and naughty in the class, in the dorm or everywhere. My close friends and I enjoyed breaking the rules and having fun. So, Ahad and I were not well clicked, she was ONLY my classmate.

After SPM, I continued my study in UTM, here in Skudai but all of my classmates were in KL, Selangor or overseas. I didn’t keep in touch with so many friends, including Ahad because she was not so close to me.  

Until one day, I received a phone call from one of my classmates. Telling me, that Ahad was involved in a car accident in Selangor,but then she was transferred to Hospital Sultanah Aminah, HSA, since her family was in Johor. As the classmate who was staying in Johor, I felt the responsibility of visiting her. So I took the cab, going to HSA that afternoon.

From Ahad’s mother, I knew that Ahad was sitting in the middle at the back seat during the car accident. So when the car crashed, she was thrown out of the car, which cause the bad injury to her head. To be specific, her brain. Visiting Ahad that afternoon made me speechless. The pretty and elegant Ahad I knew, lying on the bed, with bruises on her face and no hair. I can see the stitches. She was in coma for few days after two surgeries.

Coma is a state of deep, prolonged unconsciousness, which an individual is incapable of sensing or responding to external stimuli and internal needs, from which it is impossible to rouse a person. Visiting Ahad only made me talked a lot to her mom. Ahad’s mom was so calm and patienly taking care of Ahad, her youngest child. By visiting Ahad, I hope that I can at least accompany her mother. Her very strong mother.

When I visited Ahad, from times to times I recalled more memories with her. Actually, I remembered what we did together. I remember her laugh in the class, I remember we played during our class BBQ, I remember we took photos, lying down on the field, and I remember we elegantly pose for camera during the final year dinner. But in front of my eyes at that time, I saw her with all of the tubes on her chest, head, hands, she was not like what she used to be. She became so skinny, her fair and glowing skin became dull and of course, I cannot see her big beautiful eyes and wide smile at that time.

One day, one of our classmates, Zati came to JB from Selangor. We visited Ahad in the ICU. After took a chair and sit, Zati started talking to  Ahad like talking to a friend in a café.


“Hey, Ahad! I come from far, taking bus for 5 hours, staying in Ain’s small and messy hostel in UTM to see you, and you are so lazy, just lying on the bed like this?”
I was only looking at Zati, shocked. What she was doing was really like in a movie, talking to a person in coma, which look irrelevant to me at that time.
“Next time I see you, you must treat me with.. a lunch.. and movie.. right, Ain?”
Zati tried to include me in her conversation. One way conversation. I replied monotonously,
“Yes, pity Zati.. and pity me too.. wake up, we talk, we go out, we have fun”
With Zati playing the role together, it was easier for me ‘talk’ to Ahad. At least, I was not feeling so stupid with the ‘conversation’.
“I can play guitar now, Ahad”, Zati told another story. “I can play the guitar, and you must sing, Ahad. I don’t want Ain to sing.. haha”, Zati continue. We talked a lot. I still remember, that evening, it was really a fun and lively conversation, between Zati, Ahad and me.

Usually, if I visited Ahad, I only went to see her for a while, talked to her mother, and then left. But that evening, with Zati, I enjoyed talking to Ahad so much. I kept coming to the room more than 4 times. I went out, and came in again. I felt like not wanting to leave.

Until the visiting period was almost over that evening, I was with Ahad’s mum in the room. Her mom was sitting on a chair, on Ahad’s left while I was standing next to her bed, on her right.
“Ahad, remember we don’t want to see you sick anymore, we want to see you healthy, and we can go out, haveing fun together outside, okay? We miss you. See, you mom loves you.”

I wanted to tell her that I love her, but I felt awkward, we were not close, remember?  In silent, I only heard the machine that represent her heart beat, tiitt… tiitt.. tiiiit.. I just smiled, and then I turned to pick up my bag which I put on another chair, I was ready to leave. Suddenly I heard the machine’s beat change.. become faster… tit.. tit.. tit..

I quickly turned back to Ahad, but I saw her mom was calmly holding a tissue, going closer to Ahad  and then wiping Ahad’s face. She looked at me, smiling, and said,
“Ahad is crying…”

Yes, I saw Ahad’s tears. The tears were running through her cheeks, from her closed eyes.

Did she hear me? That evening, I felt satisfied, because I know she heard me. Happy, worry, I didn’t know. It was a mixed feeling.

The next day, around 6 in the morning, Ahad’s mother called me. Which then I called a cab, to go the hospital. That morning, I was heading to the hospital. I was not going to the ward, or the ICU, but.. I was going to the mortuary.

Yes, Ahad had passed away.

Then I realized, maybe Ahad’s tears, was a good bye. That evening was my last visit. And that was our last conversation.Sometimes it takes losing something to realize what you've had, right?

Honestly, I miss Ahad, a friend who I called ONLY as an ex classmate. We were never so close before. But when she’s gone, I felt sad.I just cannot imagine how will I feel, if I lost a friend, who is closer to me.

Ladies & Gentlemen,

Ahad not only make me believe that a person who is in coma can really hear us. But she also make me to take a moment, see around me, and feel the love from true friends.

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 In 2003, we were having fun at the field. Number 2 from top and left was arwah Ahad. White veil, shirt & shoes, gray tracksuits. Pretty. I was the 'backbone' of the photo.

Preparing the props for an English project. Arwah Ahad and I were wearing black veils.I was holding the paint brush and she was smiling beautifully at the back there, close to the green chair.

Al-Fatihah for Ahad. May Allah bless her.

Opening Speech : LESS IS MORE

In 2012, I stayed in US for 6 months to do a part of my research. It was in North Carolina. At the end of my stay, one of my friends from our department, Physics Department, asked me if I will organize any farewell party. I answered, "No, I am not organizing one"
With guilty face, he replied, "owh, maybe your housemate is planning one for you"
"Hurm, actually, nope.."
Then I remembered something so I quickly told him, that I will not have a farewell party but we have lunch and dinner dates. For example, two days before, my housemate and I invited our Singaporean friend to our apartment. We cooked and had dinner together.
"That is how we celebrate! Some of my friends also brought me to an Indian restaurant for lunch last week!"
"I see... So, you and your friends choose to have small groups of friends eating together instead of a party with many people!"

Yes, he was right. It is not about how many friends come to you to say Good Bye and wish you all the best for your future that make you happy, but how much quality time we spent with our friends is more important. At least, for me.

So then, I invited him to our apartment that weekend. Can you imagine, myself, cooking in the kitchen with a handsome Dutch guy? Uhuurmm.. We cooked together, had dinner together and talked about many things. We, including my housemates, smart and fun Chinese & Vietnamese girls had fun that evening. Even it was only four of us.

Same like this evening's meeting. Yes, not so many people are here. Only, 1, 2, 3, and yes, 4 members of UTM Toastmasters Club. But a large number of attendance is not important for me now. I still can feel the fun. I don't think number matters.  Why? It is not about how many 'human bodies' inside this meeting room, but I am sure, very sure that all 'human bodies' here have SINCERE HEARTS, to attend, to support, to contribute and to learn while having fun together. That is more important, right?

Yes, all of you, coming here with sincere hearts, congratulations and thank you. Please give a big hand to all of us.

People say, the more is the merrier. But for this evening, I choose to believe, less is more.

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Here are some photos, capturing beautiful moments with friends when I was in US.

 

The Dutch guy I mentioned, Joshua. We're making karipap.

 

With one of my housemate, Thanh (from Vietnam) while Lan (from China) was taking the photo.

Karipap in progress.

 

Melissa, from Singapore, eating Karipap (the next day) while playing batu seremban I made. She said she miss that game (I cannot remember how Singaporean call that game)

 

Lan's labmate, finishing all the prawn cooked by Lan.

Beef & pineapple, prepared by Lan. Lovely!

I miss this dish, also by Lan.

One of the dishes I had in an Indian restaurant there.

Huh, I can keep posting because I have more photos and have more to share. But, next post, okay?
BYE!

Cinderella and Me

Cinderella and Me - 4th June 2014
Advanced Project (Storytelling #1) : The Folk Tale

Objectives :

To tell a folk tale that is entertaining and enjoyable for a specific age group.

To use vivid imagery and voice to enhance the tale.

(7 - 9 minutes)

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During my primary school time, my teachers and friends knew me as a quite and shy girl. One day when I was in standard 1, a trainee teacher announced, "Today, I am not going to teach. So, what would you like to do?". The whole class was so excited. "We play game! Girls vs boys!", "Storytelling!"
"Okay, I choose, storytelling!", the teacher decided.
At first, I thought the teacher will tell us a story, but she said, "So... who is going to come in front of the class, and tell a story?"
"Ain, teacher!" a friend, sitting next to me shouted.
"What? Why me?" I was shocked.
"Ain, what story will you tell us?", our teacher asked, looking and smiling at me.

"Teacher, she is good in telling stories. Last time she told me the story of Cinderella!" my friend was so excited. "Ain, just tell the same story, I like it.. Go!", she continue, whispering to me. Trying to make me confident.

Then, that walked in front of the class. That was my first public speaking, in my life.

Hye friends...

Once upon a time there lived an unhappy young girl. Her mother was dead and her father had married a widow with two daughters. Her stepmother didn't like her one little bit. All her kind thoughts and loving touches were for her own daughters. Nothing was too good for them - dresses, shoes, delicious food, soft beds, and every home comfort. But, for the poor unhappy girl, there was nothing at all. No dresses, only her stepsisters’ hand-me-downs. No lovely dishes, nothing but scraps. No rest and no comfort. She had to work hard all day. Only when evening came was she allowed to sit for a while by the fire, near the cinders. That’s why everybody called her Cinderella.

Cinderella used to spend long hours all alone talking to the cat. The cat said, “Miaow“, which really meant, “Cheer up! You have something neither of your stepsisters has and that is beauty.” It was quite true. Cinderella, even dressed in old rags, was a lovely girl. While her stepsisters, no matter how splendid and elegant their clothes, were still clumsy, lumpy and ugly and always would be.

One day, beautiful new dresses arrived at the house. A ball was to be held at the palace and the stepsisters were getting ready to go. Cinderella didn't even dare ask if she could go too. She knew very well what the answer would be: “You? You're staying at home to wash the dishes, scrub the floors and turn down the beds for your stepsisters.” They will come home tired and very sleepy. Cinderella sighed, “Oh dear, I'm so unhappy!” and the cat murmured “Miaow.”

Suddenly something amazing happened. As Cinderella was sitting all alone, there was a burst of light and a fairy appeared. “Don't be alarmed, Cinderella,” said the fairy. “I know you would love to go to the ball. And so you shall!” “How can I, dressed in rags?” Cinderella replied. “The servants will turn me away!”

The fairy smiled. With a flick of her magic wand Cinderella found herself wearing the most beautiful dress she had ever seen. “Now for your coach,” said the fairy; "A real lady would never go to a ball on foot! Quick! Get me a pumpkin!” “Oh of course,” said Cinderella, rushing away. Then the fairy turned to the cat. “You, bring me seven mice, and, remember they must be alive!”

Cinderella soon returned with the pumpkin and the cat with seven mice he had caught in the cellar. With a flick of the magic wand the pumpkin turned into a sparkling coach and the mice became six white horses, while the seventh mouse turned into a coachman in a smart uniform and carrying a whip. Cinderella could hardly believe her eyes.

“You shall go to the ball Cinderella. But remember! You must leave at midnight. That is when my spell ends. Your coach will turn back into a pumpkin and the horses will become mice again. You will be dressed in rags and wearing clogs instead of these glass slippers! Do you understand?” Cinderella smiled and said, “Yes, I understand!”

Cinderella had a wonderful time at the ball until she heard the first stroke of midnight! She remembered what the fairy had said, and without a word of goodbye she slipped from the Prince’s arms and ran down the steps. As she ran she lost one of her slippers, but not for a moment did she dream of stopping to pick it up! If the last stroke of midnight were to sound... oh... what a disaster that would be! Out she fled and vanished into the night.

The Prince, who was now madly in love with her, picked up the slipper and said to his ministers, “Go and search everywhere for the girl whose foot this slipper fits. I will never be content until I find her!” So the ministers tried the slipper on the foot of every girl in the land until only Cinderella was left.

“That awful untidy girl simply cannot have been at the ball,” snapped the stepmother. “Tell the Prince he ought to marry one of my two daughters! Can't you see how ugly Cinderella is?”

But, to everyone’s amazement, the shoe fitted perfectly.

Suddenly the fairy appeared and waved her magic wand. In a flash, Cinderella appeared in a splendid dress, shining with youth and beauty. Her stepmother and stepsisters gaped at her in amazement, and the ministers said, “Come with us Cinderella! The Prince is waiting for you.“

So Cinderella married the Prince and lived happily ever.

Ladies and gentlemen, I still remember, after I finished the story, the whole class gave me a big hand. That was my first storytelling in front of the class, but not the last. When I was in standard 2, the same thing happen again. A friend requested me, to come in front of the classroom and tell a story. Which story? Again, Cinderella. And the same thing happen when I was in standard 3 too.

My first three years in school telling the story of Cinderella in front of the class. It is one of the sweet memories. Even I was still known as a quite and shy girl during my school time. That is why, Cinderella story means a lot to me.

First, as the story I used to start public speaking.
Second, it was also the first story I read from my first story book.
And finally, Cinderella story taught me about the beauty of patience. It make me believe that patience leads a life with happy ending.