After having gotten over everyone staring at me during prayers, we went for lunch. The boys and girls were allowed to sit together, but I couldn’t see my brother.
Malaysian food is spicy and I only took a few spoonsful but my homeroom teacher saw this and took me to the chef who made me a fried egg, and then after lunch we were allowed to just hang around camp. I wanted to explore, but the teacher was following me and then she spoke to Emma in Malay and left.
“What did she tell you?” I asked.
“She said that I should keep an eye on you,” Emma replied. “Why?” I said.
“She was ordered by your father to keep an eye on you until the summer camp is over because you have a habit of getting lost, and your dad does not want to risk it,” she said.
I was embarrassed hearing that, but then I thought maybe my dad knows better than I, so I kept quiet and did what the others did. I thought I was getting along so well with everyone! The boys were being very nice to me. This was because I looked older than eleven and I was one of the only foreign girls there.
On the second day of camp, while Emma and I were eating lunch, a boy came over to us. He looked worried and started yelling to us in Malay.
“Oh my God,” said Emma, and looked at me. She grabbed my hand and said, “Come!”
I followed Emma without asking questions and we headed towards a crowd of people. Emma pushed a few of the guys away; I heard yelling and a familiar voice. I pushed through the crowd where I saw one boy on the ground being punched in his face, and the boy who was punching him was my brother.
I would have jumped in and stopped the fight, but the teachers came. In a short time apparently everyone in camp knew what the fight was about, but I didn’t hear the story because I didn’t understand Malay. I did see two girls glaring at me, and I thought “What is their problem?” But we were going hiking and I was so excited that I ignored them.
Finally I would get to explore the forest. I wore sports pants and a very light shirt because it was very hot, and I had my scarf and sneakers and my backpack ready.
We lined up in pairs. I wanted to be with Emma, but a girl pushed me and I found myself at the back. That girl looked familiar, but I didn’t know her. As we left the camp gate, the boys were coming in from their hiking. But the ones who were so nice earlier were now ignoring me. This seemed wrong.
When we entered the forest I was amazed by what I saw. There was a tiered bridge to cross, a small maze and tree climbing, and all kinds of sports climbing stuff. I was busy studying all of it when I heard my name: “Aisha!!” I looked and saw the teacher calling me, “Come here! That’s the boys’ sports place, the girls are over here.” I turned around and saw a kindergarten playground with small hills. “What a disappointment,” I thought to myself.
I am very good at climbing trees, swimming, all kinds of sports, because my father used to take us to hiking every Saturday or Sunday and he taught us to climb up and down the trees and rocks and hills. When it was my turn to climb the hill there were four girls behind me. I picked up the rope and held tight to it, leaned backward with my upper body, and started to walk down the small hill.
When I arrived at the bottom I met up with other girls and wondered why their clothes were dirty, when mine were not. I heard a scream and looked up to see some of the girls having difficulty climbing and were sliding down instead. I kept looking for Emma. The other girls pushed me into last place again. The two girls in front of me took their time sliding down. When it was my turn and I climbed down, I found there were three girls standing at the bottom and it looked like they were waiting for me.
We looked at each other until one of them said “Come,” in English. This was good; it meant at least one of them knew English! I followed them and we went under a tree, over a river, and into the forest until we arrived at a big black pond.
They were ahead of me and by the time I reached the pond, they had crossed to the other side of it. I saw a few stones and I jumped on them to get across the pond, too. I jumped on one and two and three and I was halfway across. I stopped, took a breath and started again.
The fourth stone I jumped on was a plastic bag with air in it. When I jumped on it, the bag sank and both my feet were stuck in the mud.
I called out for the girls, “Hey, I’m stuck! Help me out!.”
I was on the verge of crying, but I saw the girls smiling. They said something in Malay and then they turned their backs to me. I yelled, “Hey!” They didn’t look back. I yelled again and again. I thought to myself, “Maybe they are going to ask for help?” But actually they looked like they were just enjoying their walk.
I cried until I realized that I really was stuck in the mud. I started to panic. The more I moved my leg, the more stuck I became.
By Aisha
Editor’s note: The conclusion to My Malaysian Adventures will come next week.
Photo by Claire Linney
Kids can be so mean.