Journey of a Friendship

I SEE her now, the bespectacled girl who was in my year when I started primary school.

I remember thinking what thick lenses she had. She must be clever, I thought, and I wasn’t wrong. She was one of those studious and serious type. And quiet too, too quiet for the rest of us in the group, who could safely be termed rowdy.

I remember thinking what thick lenses she had. She must be clever, I thought, and I wasn’t wrong. She was one of those studious and serious type. And quiet too, too quiet for the rest of us in the group, who could safely be termed rowdy.

I never knew Muni in Primary One but that was because I was in Sultanah Asma Primary school in Alor Star for only a few months before my father was transferred to Yen.

However, friendship tends to take its own journey. Muni and I met up again when I went back to Alor Star.

But this time I had chosen St Nicholas Convent, a decision which put us firmly in rival territories.

We at St Nicks had special names for our SAS friends; names I’d rather not mention here. And I am pretty sure they had names for us too.

St Nicks girls and SAS girls met regularly — the Merdeka Stadium where we regularly went for the Independence Day practice and celebration.

We had common interests too — the boys from Sultan Abdul Hamid College (SAHC). and that was where the seeds of friendship between Muni, Jijah, Lia and I began.

We went to the same parties, enjoyed mee rebus Abu and ais kacang Busu and mugged for our exams together.

When other friends took different paths after school, Muni and I continued our education in what used to be Institut Teknologi Mara, although we took different courses. We seldom met but the seeds of friendship were still there.

I never knew that she got married and had left for London — until I myself married and left for London. They rented a flat somewhere in West London.

When they returned to Malaysia after their studies, my husband and I stayed on. The distance rekindled the friendship and strengthened the bond between Muni and I. We even had a website where we’d keep in touch.

Reunions always marked my visits home where girls of SAS and St Nicks mingled with classmates from SAHC.

Jijah, Muni, Lia and I would relive our childhood days while driving along the highways belting out songs from The Carpenters, continuing conversations in the carpark of shopping complexes and even in fitting rooms. We’d stop for prayers and continue enjoying our time together like schoolgirls out on a day trip.

I remember one occasion when we parked in the underground car park of the Bangsar Shopping Centre and listened to songs from a Korean drama series.

Muni was then really into Korean dramas and even bought the whole series for me.

We’d drive around in search of good food and places to meet and the husbands would join us later for dinner and we’d talk and eat again right into the nights and early hours of the mornings.

I remember also the time when I was embarking on my journey to do the umrah.

Muni, Jijah and Lia took me shopping and bought me a pair of slippers which I promised I would use in the Holy city. We created quite a sight as we held hands and did the walk together. When we were together, we always did these silly things.

And then it had to happen. One day three years ago, I received an SMS from Jijah. Muni was diagnosed with the big C.

The last three years had been challenging. I’d get news of her chemos, of the spread and of the ups and downs.

During one of my visits back, we met at the Dome. Muni was just about coping with the drastic treatment that she had to go through.

Last year in July, we went to see her again. I could barely recognise my bespectacled friend. She could hardly walk unaided. But she remembered our times together, our friendship. And she wanted to go out again with us.

We were apprehensive about taking her out as she was very fragile and would get violent bouts of headaches.

But she insisted and so, after maghrib prayers together, we went.

Jijah and I took her hands and slowly we walked together to a café nearby. It was to be our last time eating out together.

Last week, Jijah, Lia and I went out for lunch. Seated at a table for four, we stared at the empty chair meant for Muni. She would usually be there, all prim and proper and admonishing us for our misbehaviour.

But she wasn’t there because she had been rushed to the hospital. We visited her and she was surprised to see me. She could hardly talk. Her condition worsened overnight and we were there by her bedside. We knew she was leaving us.

Last Monday, the girls of SAS, St Nicks and the boys of SAHC gathered silently as Muni was laid in her final resting place.

Goodbye, my dearest friend. But as the saying goes, death ends a life, but not a relationship; certainly not a friendship like ours.

ps. My tribute to Muni and and our friendship was first published here.

Other journeys with Muni:
This autumn of our lives

Moments to treasure

Yesterday Once More