Kembara Hati Safiya

 Today was a very, very hard day. My body, my house, decided to lock all its doors. My back said, "No, you cannot stand up straight." My knees said, "No, we will not bend." My waist said, "I am a frozen rock." I could not stand. I could not walk. My legs forgot how to work.  The pain was a big, heavy blanket. It was everywhere. For days, I have been sick with this ‘demam urat’. But today, it was the boss. I knew I could not fight it alone.  Thankfully, I have a friend. A very good friend. He came to my house. He saw me. He did not ask many questions. He came with my own wheelchair. The one that has been my companion on other hard days. Today, that chair was my legs. That chair was my freedom. My friend was my hero.  We went to the clinic. A government clinic. There were so many people. Everyone was waiting. We waited. And waited. And waited. One hour passed. Two hours passed. Three hours passed. Time was a sleepy turtle. It moved so slowly. I sat in my whe...

Today, the work did not stop. It is like a river. It flows and flows and never ends. There are emails. So many emails. Beep. Beep. Beep. There are meetings. So many meetings. Talk. Talk. Talk. There are reports. So many reports. Type. Type. Type. My head feels full. It is full of work things. My eyes are tired. They look at the computer screen all day. The screen is my world. It is a world of boxes, and lines, and words about work. It is not a very fun world. Sometimes, I close my eyes for one minute. And I dream. I dream of other places. Places with no emails. Places with no meetings. I dream of the sun on my skin. I dream of the wind in my hair. I dream of the sound of the ocean. I dream of travel. But then, I must open my eyes. And the work is still there. Waiting for me. My body is in the office chair. But my heart wants to be somewhere else. My heart wants to be free. When I feel like this, I have a secret magic trick. I have a box. A simple brown box. Inside the box are my paper ...

Today is another slow day. The fever is still here. It is like an unwanted guest in my body. It makes my bones feel old. It makes my head feel full of cotton. My world is my bed, my pillow, and my blanket. I do not want to watch TV. The sounds are too loud. I do not want to read a book. The words are too blurry. So, I reach for my box of treasures. My box of postcards. It is my magic box. It can take me anywhere in the world, without moving my tired body. My fingers move past sunny beaches. They move past colorful flowers. Then they stop. They touch a postcard that is dark and serious. It is not a happy picture. It is a powerful picture. In the picture, there is a giant building. It looks like a black castle from a fairy tale. It has two tall, pointy towers. They are like two giant fingers pointing up to the sky. The whole building is covered in details. So many lines, and windows, and little statues. It looks like it is made of black lace. The castle is so big. It is bigger than all t...

Today, my body is not my friend. I have a fever. My head feels hot. My skin feels hot. But sometimes, I feel very cold inside. It is a strange feeling. My bones hurt. My muscles hurt. In Malay, we call this ‘demam urat’. It feels like every part of my body is tired and complaining. I do not want to eat. The food has no taste. I do not want to move. The bed is my home now. It is my world. This world is small. It is just my room. The fan turns and turns. The clock on the wall says tick-tock . It is a slow and boring world. When you are sick, time moves very slowly. One hour feels like one day. In my small world, I look for something to do. My eyes are tired of the phone. My ears are tired of the quiet. I see a box on my table. It is a simple brown box. But inside, it is not simple. Inside are my treasures. Inside are my windows to the world. The box is full of postcards. Friends from far, far away send them to me. Each postcard is a picture. Each postcard is a story. Each postcard is a h...