Rumah Amal Hashimiah - Revisited

(Also known as: Blogging is a Means to Escape Work)

So on early Sunday morning (8am is early if one only had 3 hours of sleep earlier), I left my house in a hurry – too much in a hurry that I have misplaced my house keys (doesn’t this sound familiar? Heh). Picked Kiki and Haz up then drove like a demented maniac (we were told to be there at 8).

And when I was there, I found out that there were only few people around. Hmph. I thought 30 people will be coming?

Oh. Four will be going straight from their home. OK.

Two’s filling petrol for the van. Oh, OK.

The rest? Dunno.

Whatever.

So we left about 9 ish, after deciding that perhaps we should take the route from Boondocks – Dengkil – Bukit Jelutong – Puncak Alam – Kuala Selangor – Sg Besar.

Except that it was actually Boondocks - Dengkil – Bukit Jelutong – Sungai Buloh (wrong route) - Batu Arang – Puncak Alam – Kuala Selangor – Kpg Kuantan – kaki Bukit Melawati – Sungai Besar – Sabak Bernam – Parit Sg Haji Dorain – Kpg Sungai Limau.

Or something like that – lah.

“Are we arriving anytime soon, Leen?”

“We are. From that makcik that sells mangoes, it’s just two minutes from her stall”.

Unfortunately, there must be like 107,403,727 mangoes stalls on that day. And 107,403,720 of them are makciks. They all look alike, damnit!

The driver wasn’t too pleased.

“You said it was two minutes from the LAST stall!!”

“Er…apparently, it wasn’t that stall, sorry…” *meek*

Some back pains, headaches and loads of lozenges later, we eventually arrived. Us here being the two cars, 1 4WD and the van, with nary a scratch. But full bladder though hehe.





The kids and the rest of the healthier occupants were already in the hall. My colleagues were all just hanging around the corridor. We (meaning the macho men of where we work nyeh nyeh) carried the stuff we managed to collect (THANKS GUYS!) and load it on to the stage. Human kindness – it was days before payday but yet the Sports Club managed to collect (arm twist? Hehe) enough to fill almost a quarter of the stage.

We went into the hall.

Imah saw me and shrieked. Told me something quite unintelligible. But it was a warm welcome by the looks of her beaming smile and her opened arms for a hug. We then sat among the kids and adults and made conversations with them.

“Have you eaten?” we asked.

“Yes” they replied.

“What did you eat?” we asked.

“Biscuits,” they replied, quite content.

Poor babies.

We took pictures of them. This is apparently, their favourite moment, as they were all clamouring over me to get a peek at the digital camera screen.





“Let me see!” “Let me see!” again and again.

I had to hide the camera in my bag. Won’t want to miss to take pictures later if my batteries ran out (which does often nowadays.)

The MC started the ceremony.





Some kids were called to perform. A blind girl (whose name escapes everyone at the moment – and I’ve asked around!) sang, accompanied by an Endang-like dance (it’s a form of traditional dance that is similar to Dikir Barat, only without the singing, only dance moves) by the kids.
There were cute.

And I basically bawled.

Because for the moment, I thought she was just lip-synching to Siti Nurhaliza. Nay, it was all her own! All pure, wondrous, melodious tunes came from her mouth! We have Siti Nurhaliza, who, despite having an unfortunate accident of a nasty hoax mail maliciously claiming that she uses Botox, take raw eggs in the toilet very alike a black magic practitioner and generally becoming very disagreeable and Diva-like towards EVERYONE, is still as pretty and successful. And have moneys that the IRB would be interested to look into to boot.

And her?

She sang her heart out, sitting on a chair, her visions impaired; her only fawning fans were the other occupants of the House. Most can’t even pick their own nose to save their lives.

Heartbreaking, I know.

We were thoroughly entertained by her, and the antics by the others, who had not had the chance to shine and perform on stage. But what they couldn’t do on stage, they did elsewhere, like these two.





Next a boy in a wheelchair who gave a commendable rendition of a Jamal Abdillah’s song. Then they started to wave at a few of us.

To sing.

Despite being the mike and limelight hogger that I am, I declined, graciously. Besides, Mr. Fish took my turn heh heh.

The MC then announced the cheque handing over ceremony and invited our Club President to say a few words. The same girl in the above picture whistled and went “Woo-HOO!” loudly upon seeing him getting up to the stage.

He looked embarrassed, but pleased.

After handing the cheque over, we then adjourned for a much needed lunch.
“Kakak, saya dah lapar,” says one.

I asked the MCs cum Muzak Meister when do they usually go for lunch.

“12.30pm”

Oh dear, it was already 1.00pm.





Some of us held the kids to their eating area. The volunteers helped them to their seats which had been pre-arranged early. After a hearty prayer, they got down to eat. Some needed to be fed. Some tried to feed themselves, but couldn’t.





Some were happy to see extra helpers to help them out – get more rice, get more drinks. Despite the simple dish, they all looked as if they’re eating the most exquisite gourmet they’ve ever tasted.





After meals, they were all transported back to their rooms. Some decided that they needed to exercise at the gym, some more went to the Sewing room to rest and continue on their beads. Still, some more went to the bleak, empty room. The mattresses were scarce, the rooms warm due to lack of fans (let’s not even start with air-conditioning), hardly enough to fit all of them.





We took some more pictures of them, with them. Talked to a some (Imah told us that there was a man waiting for her somewhere), before bidding our bye-byes.





Again, I promised to them I’ll be back.

And I know I will.

And they know I will.

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Rumah Amal Hashimiah

Last Saturday, I was asked by a colleague whether I could please show them the way to Rumah Amal Hashimiah in Sg Besar, Selangor. I had the opportunity to go there last year, on an invitation of a fellow colleague – on behalf of the organisation’s Sports & Welfare Club.

Rumah Amal Hashimiah is a shelter for the unfortunate. They had been in operation since 1999, but had not been fortunate enough to receive any grants or form of monetary relief from the government. It doesn’t help that the house is not situated within the central region – to attract sponsors or donations from big corporations.

Rumah Amal Hashimiah was situated along the (horribly bumpy and forever on construction) main road at Kampung Sungai Limau. It used to be a Sekolah Agama Rakyat in the 1960’s apparently, but the kind owner had allowed Kak Ana and Abang Tamjis to use them for the shelter.

Also, during my last visit, a few characters stood out – one was this very handsome boy, Jeff, who had cerebral palsy (I think). He was wheelchair-bound but there were a lot of kind friends who’d chauffeur him around. When I was there last, Kak Ana asked Jeff friend to bathe him. So he did. When we were about to leave, a shiny posh(ish) National Car (er, national car = posh…an oxymoron?) swung by and parked next to our car. It bore a distinguished looking man and two very attractive and fashionable girls. Apparently, they were Jeff’s dad and sisters.

Both my colleague and I felt disgusted. We thought; how dare you send to your child to this home, when you can possibly afford to hire a maid to look after him alone? I suppose he has the reasons, but Abang Tamjis told us that for a lot of the occupants there, most of their family were embarrassed to acknowledge that they have a family member who was not as “perfect” as them. Rumah Amal Hashimiah housed one adult, who is a brother of a famous comedian and actor and one beautiful kid, whose mom is a famous actress.

I think I’ve lost faith in fellow humankind a bit when I heard that.

When I visited the home last Saturday, I asked about Jeff. Abang Tamjis told me that he had passed away, just recently.

Innalillahiwa’inna ilahi roji’un Jeff. We know you are at a better place now.

Abang Tamjis told that 20 (or was it 10? Damn my goldfish memories) has passed away since the previous year. When Jeff died, it was Abang Tamjis who was with him at the hospital. It was Abang Tamjis who saw through Jeff’s funeral.

“What about the Dad?” I asked, incredulously.

Abang Tamjis just shook his head and smiled sadly.

Sighs.

I also enquired about a baby whose mom along with his four other siblings were also occupants of the home. Abang Tamjis told that the cute boy had been adopted. I’m very pleased for the baby. I hope he is in a happy home where he will be loved and taken care off well.

The last time I was there, I was shown around their recreational areas (sewing room, classroom for the kids, gym and playroom), their eating area, the TV area, their washing area and their sleeping bunks. I remembered thinking that the place was wee bit messy. Kak Ana explained to us that she has had problems trying to rope in for volunteers. It was not easy to cater for 120 special adults and children. Especially when they’re highly dependant on you, not being able to do most tasks that we people usually take for granted.

This time I went, the home was in much better condition. The place look better managed. Their eating place is properly covered with zinc, where it used to be only canvas, thanks to Unilever who sponsored the area.

They now have forty volunteers salaried under them now. While the place looks more manageable, there’s that little problem about money. Abang Tamjis informed me last weekend that the occupants have not had a proper meal for three days already.

“No fish dishes for three days already,” was his exact quote. They just couldn’t afford them.

“So what have they been eating then?” I asked.

“Whatever we could cook for them,” Abang Tamjis replied, with a dejected smile.

My heart broke a little more.

Abang Tamjis told that they have now grown from the initial occupants of only 30, they now have 160 occupants (with 40 volunteers) to feed. It’s not easy, he said. They managed to get a lot of donations last month, on account of it being the holy Ramadhan month, but even so, he said, they needed to stretch it to the entire year.

“What about the Welfare Department grants? Have you been receiving them?” (The last time I went, Kak Ana told me that they submitted their application every year to the Welfare Department for grant relief).

“No”

“What about the occupants? Aren’t they eligible for grants themselves, as individuals?” my colleague asked.

“Nope. None of them has received anything. We asked the respective families, but none has”.

“What about the big corporations?”

“They helped a little, but it’s a bit slow since we’re not in central region”.

Hmm.

They were once featured in a Malaysian talk show by a popular diva. The television station promised that they would be donating some money to the shelter after the program. That was last year.

So I asked about that too (My, my, aren’t I the pushy one?)

“Er… they didn’t give any money, but an individual gave to cover up for the station…”

“HUH?”

Life ain’t fair yo.

Abang Tamjis and Kak Ana did a commendable job with Rumah Amal Hashimiah. While they could not afford the luxuries like some other shelther homes (one in Klang Valley, I was told, had rice donation that it filled even the principal’s office), they tried their best. It wasn’t easy though. Abang Tamjis told that their surrounding neighbours asked them why they bother took look after “those people”?

But sticks and stones they say.

Many of its occupants weren’t even clothed when they were found – one was locked for 20 years in the room by the family, naked. She had to be put in a solitary room, bounded at the bed while clothed, for the first few days she arrived. When we saw her, she was “lying” inside the frame of a baby’s cot. She is 40. My colleague commented that she must’ve been pretty in her youth.

Most were abandoned by their immediate family – it was their distant relatives who sent them over to there. When they were featured on TV, the recognition became more of deterrent than good publicity to source for donation. In a space of two months, they had an additional of twenty new occupants. Thanks (or no thanks?) to publicity.

We asked him what particular items that the home needs.

He gave a small shrug.

“Whatever is it you think that we need, we never turn away anything,” was his simple answer.

Somehow I found that heartbreaking.

He took us around again. Some volunteers were supervising a few of them – they were doing beads for tissue box covers. They loved the cameras, smiling sheepishly when asked to pose. We saw the gym, equipped with some exercise machines, thanks to the Swedish and Japanese Embassies (they were one of the earlier donors). The exercise mats were courtesy of a Buddhist Association.
We went to their play room. Some kids were romping about. I took some pictures of them too.

“Kak! Kak! Let us see how we looked like!”

I showed them their pictures on the camera screen.

We then walked to the TV area – an open space covered by zinc. They hanged their clothes there too. Some of the “healthier” ones were busy folding the clothes of everyone.

The smiley one was very, very friendly. She asked our names, where we were from. She told us her name. We couldn’t make out what she was saying though. She spoke as if she had a very short tongue.

But I told her I’ll be coming again next week, and she said an audible “OK” and went on happily with her chores. It only took a promise to make her this happy…and yet her family abandoned her?
We went on to see their sleeping quarters. They do not have beds anymore. Which is just as well, those they had before didn’t look as if they could last the year anyway. The mattresses were being aired in the sun.

No Vono™ mattresses.

The ones in the sleeping quarters are the more, I hesitate to use this word, “sickly” ones (for lack of a better word). They lie on the linoleum covered floor, in various positions – some uncomfortable, not caring much to their surroundings, lost in their own world. Most did not even care that I was snapping their pictures.

One was my age. I felt like hugging her.

I left the home, and promised to Abang Tamjis that we’ll be back next week, this time with goodies. People like Abang Tamjis and Kak Ana gave me hope that there are people who are selfless out there. Who are willing to make do with what they have, and what try, without nary a sigh, to make other’s life comfortable.

If you want to see the lovely people for yourselves, they are here:

RUMAH AMAL HASHIMIAH

LOT 5612,

JALAN BESAR,

KAMPUNG SUNGAI LIMAU,

45300 SUNGAI BESAR

SELANGOR DARUL EHSAN

If you want to contribute donations, please bank in your moneys to

Bumiputra-Commerce Bank Account No: 12130007559051.

*coughs*

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