I turned 24 exactly ten days ago and I am nowhere near to leaving Malaysia (yes, this is a long-term goal).
I spent more than half of my life with my nanny, Kak Ita and another remaining portion adulting. Kak Ita was a loving, memorable woman who took care of me ever since I was born. I refused to sleep with my siblings and opted to sleep in my nanny's room instead for a good few years.
There was no air-cond and the room was a typical nanny room: small and close to the kitchen and the washing machine. I would spend each night sleeping beside her and we would share her earphones, listening to old Malay songs on her Walkman.
Kak Ita, through the eyes of a 3 year-old me who turned 6, 10, 12 and then 15, was perfect. She finally left my family to get married to a man from Negeri Sembilan and I cried in silence as we drove back from her wedding.
Cameron Highland, 2005. We woke up super early, just the two of us and we decided not to take shower as the water was freezing cold. We walked to the morning market hand-in-hand and tried really hard not to drool at the colourful fruits as I was 11 and she was just a poor nanny. She nevertheless got both of us two packs of Nasi Lemak with Sambal Sotong and we had it right there and then. It was a family holiday but her presence is the most vivid thing that I can recollect until now.
If heaven does exist, then that is what heaven to me feels like: just me and Kak Ita, holding each other's hands, as she did once to save me from an accident that nearly killed me when I was too young to remember.
