So, who is this baby? Where is she from? How did this happen? Sumi asked, trying to be nonchalant.
Ah, Mrs Fairman, like I said, this baby was with her mother for a month and then… she called me today to say that she could no longer take care of her… her milk was running out, she said that she wanted the baby to go to a nice home, so… I brought her here.
The woman spoke in low tones, in her sing-song manner and waved her arms effectively, like a seasoned saleswoman.
So, you mean I can take this baby? If I want her? Sumi delivered a shrill retort.
Yes, why not? I can leave her here for one night, see how you feel…?
The woman was clearly insistent. Sumi protested. One night? What? But…I have nothing here, no cot, no diapers…nothing, and my husband isn’t even around!
The baby started to cry and I could see that she had perfect fingers. She was warm in my hands. She felt lovely. A baby in my arms. My body softened. I wanted to melt into a sleep. My body swayed automatically, the way mothers do when they want to soothe their babies. I answered softly, not wanting to alarm the baby.
Sumi, I can get a few things from the supermarket, it’s not a problem.
But…
Here, come, come… take the baby. I walked towards Sumi, trying to reassure her.
The woman said: Mrs Fairman, by the way… the baby’s name is Samiya… starts with an S, just like yours. What a coincidence. Then, she chuckled.
Sumi, startled, turned to me, then back to the woman and asked: Oh, how do you spell that?
I interrupted. Sorry, what’s your name? I asked the woman with the white teeth.
Madam, my name is Mary. People call me Mother Mary… So nice to meet you. She held her hand out. I shook it and felt that it was sticky, like slime. She realised it when I wiped my hand on my pants.
Sorry, madam, very hot day today.
Sumi looked up at me and grinned. Oh my god, she’s so cute!
I could see that the baby had opened her eyes, they were wide and brown and clear. Mother Mary sat down on the couch and looked around, her toes digging into the fluffy carpet.
Wow, nice place here, Mrs Fairman… So perfect to raise a family…
I had no doubts that this woman knew exactly what to say. There were a slew of questions I wanted—needed—to ask, but I did not want to seem too obvious in my suspicions. So I began indiscreetly.
So, what is the baby’s… heritage?
She took a big breath, let out a smile and spoke with a large measure of confidence.
This one is very interesting. Her mother is half Thai, half Malay, father is Nepali. That’s why she is so pretty lah…Father is a security guard, mother works in a factory. Cannot afford to raise a child, plus the father already has a wife back home, so he won’t pay. The poor girl has no choice…
Sumi was half listening as the baby had started to gurgle and smile, and immediately started cooing. Del, look at her fingers, she’s so lovely, look…ooh, ooh you’re gorgeous, yes you are…So, how do we do this, Mary? She looked up, questioning.
By this time Mother Mary had helped herself to a cup of tea with milk and sugar, and was munching loudly on a curry puff. She finished the last bits of it, swallowed a big sip of tea quickly then cleared her throat.
We will do all the paperwork, registration, everything. She coughed slightly. Sorry, the curry puff is stuck in my throat… She drank another large sip of tea.
I asked brusquely. Wait, does she have a birth certificate?
No madam, her parents cannot register her, they are not married and the mother is Muslim… so very difficult, as you know. But we can do everything… this is what my company does, don’t worry we will take care of it.
Sumi interjected, saying. We have to pay you, obviously…?
Mother Mary smiled widely. Yes, Mrs Fairman, you see the parents have to be compensated a little bit, and then of course the paperwork, you know…how it works here…
Her teeth were so white they were almost blue, startling against her dark complexion and high cheekbones. She looked like she could have been a beauty queen twenty years ago. I wondered how much those veneers cost.
So, how much for everything?
Mother Mary was quick and to the point. Only twenty thousand, Mrs Fairman, her skin is very fair, so you know lah, Malaysians, we still like to be fair, even though I am not, she tittered. So she will be very pretty when she grows up…
I wanted to gag, I wanted to shout and scream and say to Sumi, don’t do this, don’t do this, you’re buying a fucking baby, Sumi, what are you thinking? Sumi looked at me and she saw my panic, then she looked down at the baby and asked:
Is this legal? What you’re doing… is it… legal?
Mary looked at her, put a rehearsed hand to her mouth, cleared her throat again and spoke clearly, with resolution.
Mrs Fairman, I run a serious business here, I have helped many couples find babies, I help people… so of course it’s legal. In Malaysia we can do anything here, as long as we can find a way. You know what I mean… Don’t worry, she reassured. We do this all the time… She trailed off.
Sumi paced up and down, looking perplexed, the baby content in her arms. But my husband, he’s not here. What do I do?
Well, Mrs Fairman, if you are not sure… no problem. If you don’t want her, someone else will take her… No problem. She shook her head and smiled widely.
Something seized me, like an invisible hand, cold, tenacious. It rose from the soles of my feet and into my stomach, where it tightened and turned into a cold insidious knot. My teeth started to chatter. Goosebumps appeared on my hands, my neck prickly with sudden sweat. Had I found her? Was this the woman who had taken my daughter? I wanted to accuse her, I wanted to scream, Did you take my baby? What did you do to her?
But I didn’t. Sumi wanted this baby, it was obvious, and I didn’t want to ruin it. I was assuming a great deal, and that was dangerous. Who was this woman? What kind of woman did this? To sell babies? Where did they come from?
Sumi disappeared into the kitchen to call Fairman, while I walked around cradling the baby who was now fully awake and restless. She was hungry. I asked Mother Mary, Do you have a bottle? Anything at all for the baby?
Mother Mary stood up and grabbed her large handbag, which was stretched to the seams. I imagined large wads of cash inside, or diapers perhaps? Yes, yes, of course. Sorry, sorry, baby is hungry yes. There is something in my car, let me get it.
Mary rushed out the door, her skirt bunched up under her ample derriere. Her car was a brand new blue Perodua. License plate WHJ 8965. I repeated it until it was in my head. The situation was simply surreal. A baby. A woman with a baby. To leave overnight. Twenty thousand ringgit. What fuckery was this?
Sumi was talking to Fairman on the phone. A baby, yes darling, a real one…she’s a girl… just gorgeous… So what do we do? I don’t know, that’s why I’m calling you…her parents…yes, registration and all…I guess so…uh huh…so?
The baby looked healthy enough, I didn’t see vaccination scars so that was going to need paramount attention. I lifted her faded flowery cotton top and saw that she had good colour. Her tummy did not look bloated but she would also need a full check-up. And a blood test. Mother Mary came in the door flushed, fanning herself.
Aiyoh! So hot outside!
She handed me a plastic bag, which had some diapers, a Nuk milk bottle and several sachets of milk powder. The kind that was given away for free at supermarkets and hospitals. There were also a couple of rompers, one blue, one pink.
I asked. You say she’s been on the breast? So you’re not sure if she will take the bottle?
Yes madam, we will have to try and see.
Right, well. Let’s try and see…
Mother Mary followed me into the kitchen where Sumi had just hung up. She cleared her throat and said, I need to wait till my husband gets back, which is in two days, can you wait?
Mary nodded furiously. Of course, of cours
e, this is a husband and wife decision, I understand. Serious decision. She looked at the baby and clucked softly.
After filling the bottle with a mixture of milk powder, hot and lukewarm water, I shook the bottle and tested the hole in the teat—it was very small—so I widened it with a knife. Sumi was observing me closely. I put the bottle to the baby’s mouth and thrust it in gently. She wouldn’t take it and she started crying. Ah, a baby’s cry. It had been so long.
Sumi… here. You take the baby, and give her the bottle.
As if by instinct, Sumi embraced the baby the only way a mother knew how, pressed the baby’s cheek into her own, whispered something into her ear, kissed her neck gently and then finally, eased the teat into the baby’s mouth. She started sucking loudly.
Sumi looked up and smiled. Look, she’s drinking, she’s drinking!
Mother Mary beamed and clapped her hands. Mrs Fairman…such a natural. Wonderful!
Sumi looked at us, a warm glow suffused her face.
A wave of confusion came over me, a perplexing suffusion of anger and remorse.
I blurted out. So you have other babies too? Big ones? Small ones?
Mother Mary chuckled and replied, Please lah, madam, this is not a baby factory, it takes time you know. Sometimes I don’t have a baby for months, sometimes a few in one week. Depends.
Depends, on what? What if I wanted a baby of a certain age, race… a certain look? Could you find me one?
Not so easy, madam. Not so easy. But I can ask around…if you like, might take some time.
Sumi looked startled and glared at me as if to say not now Del, not now.
No, it’s fine. But, if I change my mind, could I give you a call?
Sure!
With a big smile she rummaged in her big bag, fished out a name card and shoved it into my hand. It had an image of a stork carrying a baby in a bundle. “Bundles of Joy. Child Adoption Agency. Mary Margaret. 016 3339900.” I shoved the card in my pants pocket.
Okay, ladies, I have to go. Mrs Fairman, good luck with the baby, I will call you in two days, okay? Look forward to hearing from you. I have another appointment now. She tucked her handbag tightly into her armpit, jiggled her car keys, took one final look at the baby sucking at the bottle.
So sweet, look she is happy! Okay then. Byeee…
And with that she flashed her white, white smile and swooshed out the living room and out the door. Sumi looked at me. The baby had finished the entire bottle of milk and was gurgling happily. Sumi looked completely startled.
Del, now what do I do?
The human mind is feeble, it can only take so much anguish. When I lost my mother, my father lost his mind. There is no slow deterioration of grey matter, it is a swift, brutish act. To lose possession of one’s faculties is denigrating, almost shameful, it implies that you are not strong enough, it shows weakness of character, of self, that you are not close enough to your ancestors, that you are unable to reach back and claim the strength of memory, of collective suffering, of hope, that you don’t know who you are. And how was I to? When my father was already lost in the shadows, it was only inevitable that I suffer the same fate. My mother met her maker whilst being compacted into a lamp pole and car parts. She had no time to consider anything, her soul struck by an insolent fate on a highway. And this is the realisation I had when I woke up in the psychiatric ward at University Hospital.
I tried to sit up in bed but I could not, my arms and legs were fastened and I could not move. Straps, with buckles, yes I had seen them somewhere before. Probably a TV drama series about doctors and nurses falling in and out of love with each other. I tried to open my mouth but the sound that came out of me was hoarse, a whimper. The screaming went on within my oesophagus, the force whirling itself deeper and deeper into an emotional hurricane, all the while not being able to move. There was a box on my chest, of human hearts, sliced and torn open from grief, sadness. Perpetual loneliness, condemned to a tiresome pit of vipers. My eyes darted left to right, then up and down, it was all white. I looked down and saw the shape of my feet. Socks, I don’t remember wearing socks. They were thick and grey. I tried to wriggle my toes and within seconds I was exhausted.
What manner of drugs had they given me? Why wasn’t I high in a land above the clouds, feeling euphoric, with hands and lips caressing me? Was there a worm slowly moving inside me? Why did I feel like I had been encased in concrete from my neck down? What did I do to get here?
A nurse came in, mask covering her nose and mouth. Her eyes looked stern.
Miss, you need to take your medicine.
I looked at her, certain that my eyes were glazed, dead like an upside down goldfish. She took my right arm and pressed in a syringe. I winced. The ceiling started contorting into a fevered swirl, I felt the bed move upwards, like I was being lifted, but wait, the ceiling is above it, wait, I am going to smash into concrete, but then there was light, a soft breeze, keen laughter, something jabbing into my thighs, teeth? Fangs? A scratching from inside my loins, under my skin. What is that thing? The bed swooping down back into the room, swish swish swish, then carousel music, a clown’s red nose jabbed itself into my cheek, then the scene from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, where Jack Nicholson and the nurses are screaming, they are all screaming, then there’s blood on the walls and on the floor. A cobra, one, two then there are three, they are bowing down in front of me, their hooded heads bowed to the ground, then they slither away in fright, animals, you should be with the animals, not humans, you are like a bird, a black bird with bright red feathers with flecks of green, you don’t belong with us, you don’t belong to us, you are not one of us. I am on top of a mountain, then God cast me down below. Who said that? Do you know who said that? Why can’t I remember? Where is she? Do you know where she is? My little girl is lost, I have to find her, can you help me?
Then I am falling, falling, falling, it is so dark, the walls are moving in, the walls are moving in, I have to find a way out of this chasm, it is wet and the water is coming up, I need to swim, but I can’t. The ceiling is above me, I can barely move, I can see light, but it is so far away, I cannot move, I am scared, please get me out of here, please please please. Alba, where are you? Alba! Alba! Alba! Where is my little girl? Please god, help me find her, I need to find her.
Alba!
Alba!
Alba!
Apparently, I was found in a mall in Petaling Jaya wandering around with a headless doll in my hand. I had first gone to the basement where the weekend flea market was. In a pile of junk along with toys I recognised from my childhood, I found a rubber doll with pale blue eyes, long flappy lashes and cornflower hair. Just like the one I got for Christmas one year. The head was falling off, the old rivet was showing wear and tear and the vendor said that I could have it for only five ringgit, miss. I remember handing him a ten dollar note and then I started walking to other vendors, looking for a head or another doll—whichever I could find first. I went to the vendor who sold books and old lamps and I tried to fit a book onto the head of the doll. Then I went to a vendor who sold ceramics—Made in England plates, cups, soup tureens—and I tried to fit a cup onto the head. Then I saw the old lady who sold antique blue bowls and when I tried to fit a small bowl with flowers on the doll’s head, she started shouting. Oi, crazy woman lah, this one, orang gila! By now, there was a commotion and an older gentleman who had followed me with interest was now quite concerned.
I had started talking to myself in a sing-song voice, talking gibberish—I had no recollection of this—and I apparently went to almost every vendor at the flea market—including the ones who sold vinyl and large antique furniture—and I was trying to fit things onto the doll’s head.
I then went up the escalator, and into the shop that sold toys like the latest Lego sets, light-sabres, more dolls, costumes. I had brought Alba there once to get a fairy costume. It was here that the owner threatened to call security, as I was taking down boxes, trying to open them and then overturni
ng bowls of miniature cars and plastic dolls. When security did come, I was in the middle of the shop, on the floor surrounded by half-opened boxes and toys. It was then that I started screaming. It was a knot that began in the pit of my stomach, it started as a whimper, and then my entire body resonated with this primal scream that emanated with brute strength from every fibre of my being.
Alba.
Alba.
Alba.
I fought and struggled with the security guards until the older gentleman said be gentle, that I was suffering from some kind of psychotic episode. He called an ambulance and within an hour I was strapped, sedated and on my way to the psych ward. I remember going down the escalator, all those faces staring at me, like I was a freak. I held on to that doll for dear life, thinking I am not going crazy, I am not going crazy, I am not crazy.
This is what the nurses told me, in between more medication, sips of water, Milo and sleep. I had screamed like I was possessed, like the devil was in me. The old man who had followed me had come to see me twice at the hospital, he was concerned, and when he was told about the truth of the matter, he wondered why I had no friends or family present. My father had come once, Sumi was busy with the baby and Marina was nowhere to be found.
That old man, the only one who seemed to care, was then struck down by a hit-and-run motorist one day outside the hospital, presumably on his way to see me. I never even knew his name, only the fact that he too seemed alone in the world, and when the nurses said that he had been killed instantly, I knew that he was no longer in any pain, and that death should have come earlier, but it did come when it did.
That night, in the delirium of a drug-addled sleep, I felt a soft hand on my chest and when I opened my eyes, I saw him, the one who had saved me. He smiled and before he vanished, I felt strangely complete.
After a week, I was discharged. Marina had finally resurfaced.
Sorry darls, I was in Hong Kong and someone stole my phone. Oh my god, what happened to you?
The psychological evaluation stated that I was suffering from “extreme stress, grief-related trauma, exhaustion, suicidal tendencies and severe depression.” The doctor had wanted to put me on anti-depressants but I had refused. Pills were not going to help me, not the kind that numbed me, that would render me into a submission I did not want to be in.
Once We Were There Page 27