My Grandma
This morning i woke up quite early (Well, quite early considering that the Fajr prayer doesn't start until 7 a.m. in this time of year). I was hungry so i went to the kitchen. I am generally lazy, but this morning, instead of just find something to eat, i cleaned up the kitchen. Probably i just have too much energy, or this nesting instinct stuff near my period time, but anyway, the act of cleaning early in the morning suddenly remind me of my grandmother.
I wasn't really close with my grandmother from my mother side (Well, come to think of it, i don't really close with many people i should be close with). I remember her as an old lady with inedible cooking, always wearing kebaya and sanggul anywhere she goes, very quiet and phlegmatic bordering on meek, and she always rise, yes, always, rise in the morning very early, at 4 a.m. in the morning and she would cleaned the house. She would started her day by taking a bath - a cold bath in very cold Bandung of the 80's. Her bathroom was a communal bathroom in front of her house. Communal bathroom was something that is common in the suburban kampung of Bandung at that time because i remember at least two communal bath in my grandma's area. Water flowing everywhere because that's how Cimahi got its name, which mean, enough water. I hate the communal bathroom because it's so spartan and open but i cannot avoid it every time i visit my grandma. At that time me and my parents lives in remote Sumatra but somehow we had decent indoor bathroom compared to my grandma's so called urban housing. The contradictory of it is amusing now that i realized it.
She would get up in the morning, took a bath, and ready for Fajr prayer right before the muazzin called for prayer from the mosque nearby. She would pray for quite a long time in the morning. She pray five times a day without absent, with Dhuha in between and whenever she was in front of the television in the night, she would bring her prayer beads with her, but she wears no hijab and in the afternoon, she keeps her habit of nyajen - giving food for the spirits that she did in her kitchen. Perhaps, the spirits would be indifferent to her cooking, something of a relief to her perhaps, but the truth reason why she did nyajen, i don't know. People in that era doesn't think nyajen and be a (more and less) religious people are a conflict with each other, and no one told them off like today. So she continued to do what she think best for her.
After the prayer, she would mopped the house, and scrap our yard, including the public small road (gang) in front of her house. She would make sure everything is cleaned, no wonder the local authority loves her (and her sense of cleanliness). And knowingly that her cooking was unbearable, she would only cook the rice in the morning and let other people tackle the task of cooking the rice's companion.
And usually, the rest of the house would woke up to the sensational smell of cooked rice in the morning. Unlike today, my grandma cook the rice the old ways. With big dandang. After it cooked, she would do the the 'ngakeul', the art of making the rice texture better by doing the kneading with rice scoop and using a fan to cool the rice off. An art that i noticed similarly still used in sushi making. And yes, i would forever loves the smell of that fresh rice from my grandma's kitchen.
My grandma didn't talk much, nor she offered opinion. She's a stubborn woman, but in discreet way. Publicly, she always said yes to anybody. She also hold almost no grudge to nobody. My mother told me that my grandma used to live in a house in Cihampelas very near with SMA 2 ( i think the house become a petrol station now). The family wasn't a poor family but not rich either. All of the her brother went to school but not the girls (my grandma and her sister). My grandma worked in a factory from very young age and soon married to my grandpa, at that time a low ranking soldier. They moved to my grandpa's house (usually, newlywed moved to the girl's house but my grandma didn't, i didn't know why but i guess because all of the brother's family already lived there). Soon after married my grandma, this low ranking soldier decided to marry another woman, with little or no resistance from my grandma. Soon my grandpa lead a double life. A low ranking soldier with two families to feed, my grandma forged her path to poverty, almost without grudge.
My mother told me that my great grandma lived in Cihampelas house when she was young and poorly treated by one of her boy's wife that my mother once lived with her to take care of her. But they also treated my mother badly and soon my grandma's family estranged from Cihampelas family. The last bit of news about the Cihampelas house that my grandma heard was that the boys (her brothers) decided to sell the house and my grandma would received her inheritance in the form of old television set, old radio set, in other words, everything that is almost unworthy of money. But my grandma didn't hold any grudge to any of these either. She just shrugged it off. She was busy taking care of her sickly sister, who in worse condition than her, thanks to marrying a good for nothing playboy as a husband.
So my grandma lives her life in relative poverty without complaining. She never blamed her brothers, nor blamed my grandpa. She cleaned her house with communal bath that everyone in the kampung used without thinking that there's a better way than that, for example, an indoor bathroom. That there's a better way if only she speak up because being born a woman doesn't mean putting up all of the bad treatment from men surround you. She died three days after a heart attack one morning when she cleaned up the house. My mother found a bundle of coffee-wrapper in her purse. On the coffee wrapper there this sweepstakes with a car as the highest prize. My grandma always wanted to own a car, my mother said. Of course, all of her brothers own one.
I wasn't really close with my grandmother from my mother side (Well, come to think of it, i don't really close with many people i should be close with). I remember her as an old lady with inedible cooking, always wearing kebaya and sanggul anywhere she goes, very quiet and phlegmatic bordering on meek, and she always rise, yes, always, rise in the morning very early, at 4 a.m. in the morning and she would cleaned the house. She would started her day by taking a bath - a cold bath in very cold Bandung of the 80's. Her bathroom was a communal bathroom in front of her house. Communal bathroom was something that is common in the suburban kampung of Bandung at that time because i remember at least two communal bath in my grandma's area. Water flowing everywhere because that's how Cimahi got its name, which mean, enough water. I hate the communal bathroom because it's so spartan and open but i cannot avoid it every time i visit my grandma. At that time me and my parents lives in remote Sumatra but somehow we had decent indoor bathroom compared to my grandma's so called urban housing. The contradictory of it is amusing now that i realized it.
She would get up in the morning, took a bath, and ready for Fajr prayer right before the muazzin called for prayer from the mosque nearby. She would pray for quite a long time in the morning. She pray five times a day without absent, with Dhuha in between and whenever she was in front of the television in the night, she would bring her prayer beads with her, but she wears no hijab and in the afternoon, she keeps her habit of nyajen - giving food for the spirits that she did in her kitchen. Perhaps, the spirits would be indifferent to her cooking, something of a relief to her perhaps, but the truth reason why she did nyajen, i don't know. People in that era doesn't think nyajen and be a (more and less) religious people are a conflict with each other, and no one told them off like today. So she continued to do what she think best for her.
After the prayer, she would mopped the house, and scrap our yard, including the public small road (gang) in front of her house. She would make sure everything is cleaned, no wonder the local authority loves her (and her sense of cleanliness). And knowingly that her cooking was unbearable, she would only cook the rice in the morning and let other people tackle the task of cooking the rice's companion.
And usually, the rest of the house would woke up to the sensational smell of cooked rice in the morning. Unlike today, my grandma cook the rice the old ways. With big dandang. After it cooked, she would do the the 'ngakeul', the art of making the rice texture better by doing the kneading with rice scoop and using a fan to cool the rice off. An art that i noticed similarly still used in sushi making. And yes, i would forever loves the smell of that fresh rice from my grandma's kitchen.
My grandma didn't talk much, nor she offered opinion. She's a stubborn woman, but in discreet way. Publicly, she always said yes to anybody. She also hold almost no grudge to nobody. My mother told me that my grandma used to live in a house in Cihampelas very near with SMA 2 ( i think the house become a petrol station now). The family wasn't a poor family but not rich either. All of the her brother went to school but not the girls (my grandma and her sister). My grandma worked in a factory from very young age and soon married to my grandpa, at that time a low ranking soldier. They moved to my grandpa's house (usually, newlywed moved to the girl's house but my grandma didn't, i didn't know why but i guess because all of the brother's family already lived there). Soon after married my grandma, this low ranking soldier decided to marry another woman, with little or no resistance from my grandma. Soon my grandpa lead a double life. A low ranking soldier with two families to feed, my grandma forged her path to poverty, almost without grudge.
My mother told me that my great grandma lived in Cihampelas house when she was young and poorly treated by one of her boy's wife that my mother once lived with her to take care of her. But they also treated my mother badly and soon my grandma's family estranged from Cihampelas family. The last bit of news about the Cihampelas house that my grandma heard was that the boys (her brothers) decided to sell the house and my grandma would received her inheritance in the form of old television set, old radio set, in other words, everything that is almost unworthy of money. But my grandma didn't hold any grudge to any of these either. She just shrugged it off. She was busy taking care of her sickly sister, who in worse condition than her, thanks to marrying a good for nothing playboy as a husband.
So my grandma lives her life in relative poverty without complaining. She never blamed her brothers, nor blamed my grandpa. She cleaned her house with communal bath that everyone in the kampung used without thinking that there's a better way than that, for example, an indoor bathroom. That there's a better way if only she speak up because being born a woman doesn't mean putting up all of the bad treatment from men surround you. She died three days after a heart attack one morning when she cleaned up the house. My mother found a bundle of coffee-wrapper in her purse. On the coffee wrapper there this sweepstakes with a car as the highest prize. My grandma always wanted to own a car, my mother said. Of course, all of her brothers own one.
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