Assalamualaikum peepers and stalkers. O,O
Today our topic would be exactly that;; peepers and stalkers;; and a few other groups of creepies that interrupt public order and safety and intrude other people’s comfort zone so nonchalantly.
I can’t believe I will actually write a post about this group of humans!
In Malaysia;; I live in a community where the security is not exactly top-notch;; since we did experience some break-ins and car thefts;; but at least we don’t have to worry about our kids being sexually-harassed in any way.
Okayyy;; I sound like a makcik that’s over thirty. And no;; I am NOT thirty because I still haven’t reach the age of twenty yet.
We have guards on every street and we have that thing that goes up and down automatically -I don’t know what’s it called someone PLEASE tell me what it is-at the beginning of every street. It doesn’t make sense when the thieves can still steal cars and the break-in-ers still can do their jobs so amazingly well;; but that’s a topic for another day;; for now I will tell you a mash-up of my and my friends experiences from the department of real life horror stories.
Whenever I am somewhere;; if I’m going to spend the night or had spent a night or nights there before;; I will call that place;; my home.
Regardless if it’s only a hotel that I would be in for only a couple of days;; my relatives’ house to my family tree and my ancestors;; I will refer to that place as home that I went to for Eidul Fitr or just for some random visit;; or even somewhere else entirely unrelated if I am ever going back there.
For example;; I’m in Terengganu for a random out of the blue vacation (with my family that happens so often that I don’t really care to make plans after getting back from kampung anymore) and am at a random local run off the mill konbini store (did you know the Japanese actually call convenience stores;; for example;; 7-Eleven;; that? I guess every country have their take on English terms) trying to find SOMETHING that I can munch on without feeling guilty because it’s either expensive or….. something else (I can’t remember what kind of habits do I have? For the love of me I really can’t remember!);; I would say to anyone that’s with me at that time;; something like;; “Come on;; let’s go home.”
Even though my real house is in Kuala Lumpur. Giddit?
So I think it’s logic if I say that here in Jordan I have two homes.
One;; at Sakan Kuning.
I love the thick carpet and it’s rich burgundy color;; and I love the fact that it’s big enough for two but not too big it’s unmanageable;; and I love the fact that I can call it mine.
The other home;; at Sakan Yarmouk.
Our little gang consists of approximately eight people. They are spread across three flats (I don’t know what to call them actually? They have a quite spacious living room;; some have sofas others have chairs;; all of them have a little coffee table;; two bedrooms;; one little kitchen –not like mine which can hardly called a kitchen but more like a little space for cooking-;; and a quite spacious bathroom if compared to mine) there;; but the one I frequent the most is on the second floor. I bought a toothbrush and kept one of my facial bar there. No kidding. Though I did keep one of my pillows in another flat…
I don’t know why I’m always off topic;; but the point I want to say is I love every place that I call home. I want to keep the place clean and dust free and pretty and all neat and tidy and hotely and safe…
But the problem lies in the area I live in.
Sakan Yarmouk;; like it’s name suggests;; is situated in a safe area since it’s protected by walls and gates since it (it? There’s a lot of ‘its’ then)- I think the term buildings would apply correctly here- okay;; the buildings;; were built inside Yarmouk University area.
But Sakan Kuning;; on the other hand;; is the opposite of safe. Our area is actually known as one of the many ‘black areas’ in Jordan;; or more specifically;; in Irbid. An area is blacklisted when one;; when the number of cases exceed ten in A MONTH (this statistic is seriously making me sweat);; and…… That’s basically it.
^,^;
In our area;; there have been cases when Malaysian students (mostly female though I can’t really say) have been followed;; I repeat;; FOLLOWED;; to their homes. It’s very terrifying when you’re a foreign student;; just a fresh graduate of a high school and is barely in University. Even for a veteran of 30 I think it would be a scary experience.
Now imagine what these girls feel? They are barely adults;; living alone;; far from home;; without parents to look out for them;; and I have heard stories about the police being overly lenient when it comes to their people being convicted by Malaysian students.
That’s just one case.
Two days ago I slept here since I really can’t treat other people’s homes (my friends at Sakan Yarmouk) as mine forever can I?
That was when I heard a creepy story from my roommate;; Ami (everything’s cool now by the way. I myself am confused by my mood swings.);; about a flasher.
It happened sometime around last week;; when an unassuming normal car with a normal male driver came to a stop and took up a parking space right in front of our Sakan;; and everything seems normal;; he opened the in-car lights and looked up to our windows. That’s where it all went a little bit weird. For some reason his hands were moving when he was looking skywards to our windows.
This happened to one of us;; though not to Ami and definitely not to me since last week I only slept for one night at Sakan Kuning. Since I’m always at Sakan Yarmouk;; I didn’t know about this case till that night two days ago when I finally decided that I can’t be childish forever and run from my feelings of hostility towards Ami and make up fast since I really need to tolerate and behave since we will be living together till around September next year.
“Sek sek ni pon pelik la bakpo dio gitu kae? Lamoooooo dio duk situ;; lampu dio terbukok ni;; pastu sek sek ni mace jenguk la luar jendelo tu sebab dia dop gerok gerok duk situ jah. Rupo-ruponyo… Dio buka zip seluo dia pastu dio mace pege pege anu dio tu.”
Here I screamed.
HAHAAHAHAHAHHAHA I bet you guys are like ‘whaaaaaaat in the land of free doughnuts and giant sized milkshakes and alphabet spaghettis are we talking about here….????’
Okay okay Imma be nice for once in a while and translate the Kelantanese monologue… Though I think the full meaning and effect wouldn’t be as epic after translated.
“These guys thought it was strange (Oh gosh this feels so like my English essay back in school);; why is he
there? After a long period of time;; with his lights on;; they became curiouser and curioser and finally decided to stick their heads out of the window… And got their answer when they saw his zip was opened and his hands moving.”
Again;; here I screamed.
“Takut sek sek ni. Pastu dop tahu nok buat gapo dio;; mujur call Abe Hafiz lalu. Waktu tu time dekat dekat Gharib gitu. Bila dah call ni;; Abe Hafiz mari lalu. Dengae satu van;; dengae syabab syabab lain skali. Van tu berenti betul betul belakae kerte tu;; tapi dop dae. Hok syabab Arab tu tengok gege kae;; dio pelik dio gi lalu. Dop dae la nak wat gapo gapo dio.”
Again;; translated version::
“Of course they freaked out! They were so out of it that they really don’t know what to do;; but at least they remember to call Abe Hafiz (which I forgot to tell;; is the one responsible for Malaysian students living in Irbid’s safety). It was nearing the time for Maghrib prayers (which is around dusk;; when the sky looks like it’s squeezed from tons of fresh oranges;; swirled with delightful burgundies and cool purple). Not long after the call;; Abe Hafiz came with ONE VAN packed with other syababs (which basically mean teenagers by the way-which I think make this story sounds funny because what can we teenagers REALLY do to harm anyone actually?). It stopped right behind the criminal’s (If he isn’t one I don’t know who else is. Doesn’t this count as sexual harassment?) car;; but they were just a tiny bit too late… When the Arabic syabab saw the van;; he got cold feet and drove away. So they didn’t get the opportunity to do anything to the syabab.”
… I think he drove away with his fly trap open.
… That last sentence made me feel guilty because it sounds like cursing to me.
Anyway;; that wasn’t the only case.
I have had the ‘honor’ to experience this kind of thing myself.
Though this time it was not just a person;; but a group of Arabic syababs around six people.
Once upon a night my friends and I were walking up the slightly uphill road that leads to our Sakan. The yellow building was on the right side of the road;; so we were walking on that side of the road.
We went out around 8-ish;; right after performing our Maghrib prayers because my friends;; Hani-chin and Syu-chin;; had an appointment with a senior. The senior;; whom goes by the name Aria-san;; had agreed beforehand to give extra class to them since they can barely understand what the doctor was saying in class since their class is in full-blast Arabic.
Yay to them ;P
Anyway we started out from Sakan Yarmouk and took the inside roads because it’s safer;; even though the street lights gave off very romantic lighting. We went out through Bab Iqtisod (The Economy Gate –which basically means that it’s the nearest gate to the Economy Building-do you guys really understand my explanation? Giddit?);; and the guards were being very kind and said things like;;
"ممنوع البنات ان يسيرن في الليل"
"هذا الحرام"
"يا مليزي الحال الخطيرة جدا في الليل"
Again;; not only do my English sucks;; my Arabic also have a lot of room for improvement.
“No walking out of night”
“This is forbidden”
“O Malaysians (no kidding they speak like this in everyday life) it’s very dangerous at night”
We were very thankful to the guards for being so nice and opening the gate for us. Actually I think they were
kinda actually chilling out;; sitting languidly on their plastic chairs drinking shaai (tea- which they take VERY black;; just like the English I believe);; and chatting awayyyy. Arabs love that kind of social interaction activity.
There was not a single lie in the words of those wisdom-filled pakciks.
Like I said;; Arabs are… A social bunch? At night they all have somekind of unwritten agreement to come out and sit by the roadsides;; whether drinking shaai or blowing out fruit-flavored and sweet-smelling smoke from their wide-opened mouths. If you ever come here to Jordan you will notice one essential thing:: it’s like a men’s country here.
Even more so at night;; when all respectable girls are prohibited to go out and the syababs reign the streets.
It’s like the women have all been massacred or something.
So we walked briskly along those streets;; very carefully sticking together and making sure no one is following us. They have a bad habit of of staring at Malaysian students;; so we weren’t really that creeped out as we felt pairs of eyes following our steps.
That’s because we were walking among the crowd;; where there would be a lot of witnesses if;; na’uuzunbillaahi min zaalik;; someone or several someones want to do something to us.
But on the way uphill to our sakan;; it was dark. The streetlights seem to not want to give its best at the time for some reason;; so it was dark and quiet;; even from the sound of cars wheels and the burring sounds of engines.
We were walking;; I was leading the way since I am quite a fast-walker (I think it have something to do with the length of my legs HAHAHAHA okay joking joking);; Syu-chin and Hani-chin not less than ten steps behind.
I had seen that syabab (I think he is still in high school even though he looks a couple inches taller than me) when I was a metre away from him;; standing in the middle of our way;; shaking his head and moving his body while holding his phone against his ear. I had turned around at them to smile and mouthed ‘crazy’ at them;; but noticed their ‘blood-went-cold’ expression.
When I turned back around I found that our distance is weirdly getting smaller. My heart started beating real fast and that resulted to the quickening of my footsteps. My eyes were trained on the ground but I made sure that I’m watching them from the corners of my eyes.
Hani-chin was a slow-walker;; she has always have been;; so Syu-chin was falling in steps with her;; and I had a slight that Hani-chin had tugged on Syu-chin’s hand.
That guy was shameless;; he didn’t actually walked towards us in a straight line at first;; it was more like he was moving at our direction;; and that was when we hear the laughter. I can’t help it;; I turned my head swiftly to my left because of my high ‘beware of the dark and it’s contents’ level;; and saw that he was actually not alone.
On the other side of the road;; a group of around five syababs were sitting on the pavement;; laughing so gaily as though enjoying seeing us squirm. Without I realizing my feet took longer steps and my mouth started freaking out on its’ own;; muttering to my friends behind me to
“shutupandwalkfasterfasterfasterfasteromygoshthisisfreakingfreakingmeoutwalkfasterfasterFASTER.”.
It was DARK;; the only light were coming from the street lamps;; and cars from all over Jordan seems to think that that street is haunted and were avoiding it at all costs.
Of course we were freaking out;; I was sweating like no tomorrow.
The next thing I know;;; that syabab stopped pretending that he didn’t see us and started walking towards us properly;; saying some inaudible things. That’s when one of his friends got up from the other side of the road and started taking long strides towards us;; making clucking noises. Imagine our horror then?
I was near running in my baju kurung;; I felt like getting my skirt off then and there and sprint into the safety of Sakan Kuning’s gate.
We were walking like we were being followed closely by two suspicious Arabs;; because we were;; their laughter ringing in our ears and their steps not far behind from us;; and the clucking noises they made sound like a clown’s evil laughter at that time.
It was pure luck that we were so close to the Sakan Kuning at the time.
I didn’t realize when they stopped following us;; but when we started full-on running when we are inside the gate;; they didn’t invite themselves in.
I will never look at chickens and the clucks they made the same ever again.
