A significant event etched into my memory was the first use of a tray at the Asrama on my very first day within its hallowed walls. The date was in the year 1997, coinciding with the sacred month of Ramadan.
As I gazed upon the tray with its meagre contents, I felt a mix of wonder and bewilderment. Was this meagre meal to be my only sustenance for breaking the fast? It was a stark departure from the hearty feasts I enjoyed at home during iftar, leaving me torn between amazement and despair. I felt like shedding tears, but I concealed my vulnerability behind a mask of stoicism.
In the days that followed, the portions remained constant, and I gradually adjusted to this culinary simplicity, understanding the limitations imposed on us. The canteen sisters allowed additional servings of rice upon request, but the idea of sustaining oneself on plain rice alone was daunting.
Hunger became a constant companion, and asking the canteen sisters for more food carried a sense of shame that no students would willingly endure. Such an act would have been noticed by others and could lead to gossip among students and even the canteen sisters themselves.
The dining hall, besides serving meals, also served as a place for formal events, with tables arranged in neat rows. In my Form 1 year, only two rows were designated for each gender, with no provision for a third.
Forming orderly lines at the food trays became a routine, with students patiently waiting their turn. Since we were new, our behaviour was unremarkable, with all of us adhering to the rules of civility and decorum.
Once we had our trays, we would look for available seats at the dining tables, each student having their preferred spot. I liked sitting near the central door, which gave me a view of the girls' tables, not out of romantic interest, but because it allowed me a quicker exit after finishing my meal.
During these formative years, as first-year students, we didn't pay much attention to our seatmates or dining companions. Our young minds were focused on the modest serving of rice in front of us.
The canteen provided plenty of sweetened beverages in large containers, but I preferred plain water, especially if the alternatives were not appealing. Sipping water throughout my meal became a habit, and by the time I finished eating, my cup was empty.
Inside the hostel, students were required to bring their own spoons and water containers, a mandate enforced by our ever-watchful guardian, Encik Hussin. If a student was found without these items, they would face severe reprimands. Occasionally, the offender would be allowed to finish their meal before being punished, but more often than not, Encik Hussin would use his cane immediately.
This made spoons and water containers highly valuable and, unfortunately, subjects of theft. Encik Hussin would occasionally summon all students for an unexpected gathering to inspect these items, a mysterious and unexpected ritual. Thankfully, he didn't extend this requirement to include undergarments, sparing us from a potentially unpleasant odour inspection.
The need for a spoon and water container extended beyond mealtimes to our morning and evening refreshments. Some students even brought their own spoons to eat snacks like karipap. This led to the habit of students storing their spoons and water containers under their desks in the classroom for easy access without having to return to the dormitory.
Encik Hussin's seemingly strict rules had a noble purpose. His main goal in enforcing the requirement for personal spoons and water containers was to discourage students from sharing these essential items. Without his strict stance, students in need would often borrow spoons from others. If the spoon was not returned promptly, it would often be lost or misplaced, leading to conflicts and chaos.
One might question the need for a spoon when eating rice, which is traditionally consumed with hands in Malaysian culture. However, Encik Hussin's decisions were usually well-thought-out. He argued that spoons were necessary for dishes with broth, as tilting the tray to drink the broth risked spilling it.
Encik Hussin also saw a deeper meaning in the use of spoons. He believed that using a spoon encouraged students to eat their meals incrementally, which, in turn, reminded them of family dining at home. This practice instilled values of considering others' needs and avoiding selfishness.
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