What's The Big Idea?

Except for Agama and Industrial Arts, I've flunked every subject the school has got coming for me. I might have flunked P.E too had it been a paper test where I've gotta answer multiple choice questions like what is the diameter of a hockey ball?

A. 3 Feet.

B. 3 Inches.

B. 2.5 Feet.

C. 2.5 Inches.

D. 1 Inch.

E. None of the above.

I could have picked E knowing that there's a 50-50 chance of my being right, or 50-50 chance of being wrong depending on which school of thought you wanna take side of. To begin with, I always mix up diameter and circumference. How am I supposed to get the right answer in the first place when I can't even tell the difference between the two. A hockey ball is as round a ball as any ball in the world and why would I need to know what's the diameter of a hockey ball when I know for certain I'm not gonna end up as the manufacturer of a world-class hockey ball. Or a hockey ball salesman who drives a van to sell hockey balls all over the country to willing buyers and earn a good commission on every ball I sell so I can build a lucrative career selling hockey balls to afford me one of them fine houses on Northam Road.

I like Industrial Arts very much because it gives me the chance to be in control with my life. In this class I make things like bookshelves or a decorative metal bracket with rivets. I like the sound of tenon saw when I cut a piece of timber the school gives us to make something out. I like the different sizes of planes, hammers, mallets, files and things like electric saw, lathe machine, and things that you won't find in Aun't house. All we had in that house was a pincer pliers to fix everything. Aunt uses it to drive a twisted nail through. Aunt says we don't need to have the tools in the house. If we need to fix things, all we gotta do is ask Pok Awang and he does a good job despite being such a quiet man that you'd think he might as well donate his mouth to those who may need a spare mouth since Pok Awang never uses his mouth to speak. He is more comfortable to use his nose to say something. He'd say; hmmm, when you ask him a question. It could be a yes, or a no. You can ask him, what's your name? He'd answer you with: hmmmm. I don't really know how why people call him Pok Awang when I believe with all my heart that his name is Hmmmm. I don't see what's the big idea of calling him Pok Awang in the first place.

Same way I can't see what's the big idea of leaving Dungun to live here with Aunt Su and Pakcik Syed to go school, to educate myself with things that I don't learn too good to be any good to anybody, or to myself. I learn more things from Yusof and Siva like beer doesn't taste too good and that you'd better don't drink too much of it because I feel the house is spinning like a merry-go-round and I don't feel too good that I throw up but I can't get up. I hear Yusof and Siva laugh so hard I think my head is gonna crack open like an egg. I hear women coming into the house. Maybe it's Yusof's mommy or one of the women who says; what have you done to him? Yusof says; we didn't do anything.

Penang taught me a few things that changed my life forever.