Never too old (or too young) to learn

My professional course will begin next week. It has been a good 6 years since I sat down at a lecture theatre. I can’t help but to feel a bit anxious at the whole thing. To be sitting down on a really uncomfortable chair with a foldable table. To be taking down notes frantically while the lecturer mutters incomprehensible words. To be scratching my head trying to make sense of what I was supposed to be learning at the time. To be looking forward for the class to end, only to be disappointed to know that there will be another class straight afterwards. Will I be going through that all over again?

I recall the days when I was back in Brighton doing my A-Levels. Back then, it was my first time of being separated from my parents. I was only 18. It was quite a tough year for me. The first three months upon first arriving in the UK, I lived with a foster English family. My foster mum was called Jenny and his husband was Dennis. They have a son called Paul who was the oldest (20). He was never around as he was studying somewhere else (at a university which name I can’t remember). They have two daughters. One was Michelle (18) and the other was Kristy (16). They have a Shetland Sheepdog named Bruno. Although they treated me as one of their own, the differences in our culture were too far apart. The fact that I was horribly homesick did not make things any better.

I was so relieved when a month later, I saw some familiar skin tones at the college; a few ex-MRSM students. The first time I had lunch with them at the canteen, I realised that they had specially catered halal meals whereas I was stuck with vegetarian or fish dishes (Mum told me never to eat katok). I was absolutely chuffed when each of them cut a small piece of their chicken to be given to me. I have never seen such generosity in my life. They hardly even know me. I knew straight away that I was in good company.

After three months, I decided to move in with them. It took the feeling of homesick away to some extent, as I was able to converse in Malay the whole time, we would perform prayers together, talk about stuff we missed back home, etc. It was also the first time that I learnt to cook my first dish; chicken curry ala Malaysia style. As for outdoor activities, we would play football every single day after class, competing against some English boys in the nearby park. We would walk to town almost everyday, to check out the new CD singles (back then, it was only 99p for a single that just came out). We avoided taking the bus to save money. My trousers size dropped from a whopping 42-inch to a 36 in just 3 months. Even my mum didn’t recognise me at the airport.

During this time, I have not only learnt Pure Maths, Physics, Cambridge Information Technology and IELTS from college, but I also learnt how to manage my money, how to study effectively, how to cook, how to be a good Muslim, how to be a good son and more importantly, how to be nice to other people. The old saying, "Do onto others as you would have them do onto you" has never had such an impact on me.

I look back today and thought about how I would not have possibly made it through the year without them.

To Shahasir, Rizal, Imran, Iesta, Rashidin, Kosai, Hisham and Zulhailmy....

.... I really miss you guys.


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Selamat menyambut Maal Hijrah 1 Muharam 1426H bersamaan 10 Februari 2005M. Mudah-mudahan tahun baru ini akan membawa kebahagian dan kemakmuran serta hasil yang lebih baik dari tahun sebelumnya.