Leaving the Country Road

So I left Morgantown with no paper qualification in my hand. Not much I can do about it then. I could’ve done better earlier before it gets to that, but no use in crying over spilled milk. Que sera sera, whatever will be, will be. As I had articulated it then, I need to pick myself up, dust myself off, and get on with my life.

Getting on with my life was what I did. Part of that involved making tough decisions that I wouldn’t have made now, from my current perspective. Those were things that I had to do based on the then prevailing need. It got me to where I am now, so most of it must had been the right decisions. Not necessarily correct, but right nonetheless.

I shed a bit of tears on the small plane when it left Morgantown airport for Pittsburgh, on my way back to Malaysia. An elderly lady beside me tried to console me – little did she knew that it was not because of leaving friends behind after so long together. It was more because of 4.5 years earlier I stepped down from (maybe) the same small plane with high hopes – a future of good life for me and my families, a source of pride for my communities, etc. I was with 13 other colleagues at that time, and more than ten senior Malaysian students waited for us at the airport, with several more waiting in an apartment for the reception party.

Only two friends sent me to the airport when I left that day. One was a colleague who later on had to leave home incomplete as well, and another a local close friend, a classmate in I.E studies. And I was by myself on the trip home.

It was one of the loneliest journeys of my life. No, wait – that was the most lonesome walk that I had in my whole life. From Pittsburgh to Los Angeles, then through Seattle and all the way to Tokyo; while being “alone” on the plane I had ample time to recap better on what had transpired. It wasn’t all gloomy – no point in making the situation worse. In fact, I was able to firm up on what I wanted to do next. I made mental notes on the next general course of actions. One of the items was that I would not go back to my hometown(s) until I got something to show for myself.

It wasn’t a very long lonesome journey - only up until reached Tokyo. Made some new friends on the Malaysian Airlines flight back to KL, and one of them was a young movie editor for the film Kembara…Seniman Jalanan. Didn’t tell him everything but informed him that I wasn’t planning to go home just yet. Accepted his invitation to bunk over at his place at TTDI for awhile until after I “got a job” and a place of my own. After three days, a former college mate at WVU came to pick me up and brought me to his place at Section 14, PJ.

I went back to my parent’s village, a Felda settlement in northern Kuala Terengganu two weeks later. Returned to Paka, a place where I grew up, only after two years in 1988. People still asked questions, but it was easier to answer – truthfully or half-truths – when you had your confidence and swagger back.

There are more events to be detailed. My kids still did not know a quarter of it.