Stage Fright

Funny how a certain something that crosses one's mind at a certain instant brings one back to the far, far away of one's childhood. I cut my finger in the kitchen a minute ago and while rummaging through an inadequately stocked first aid box, started singing…

Biar luka dalam dada
let the wound be in this heart
Biar derita jiwa tersiksa
let it suffer, this tortured soul
Apa guna kata mesra
what is the use of loving words
Menambah luka
deepening the wound
Di dalam dada
within this heart
Biarlah aku pergi
just let me go
Tak usah kau cari lagi
Don’t you come searching anymore
Rela aku berkelana
submit I have to being alone
Dengan hati ku
With my heart
Yang hancur luka
into pieces broken

The school was putting up the annual concert on Prize Giving Day. In a previous school, I had been dancing and singing once or twice, and my new teachers could have heard of the potential there. So it was that a budok joh nnang (child in standard six) marched me to the staffroom to see the teacher in charge, Cik Gu Samsu, and before I knew it, I was in a vacated classroom, facing the band that came for the practice session the day before the concert.

I sang the first line as asked. “Cu tera A minor” (Try A Minor) the kindly Cik gu suggested and a balding man who appeared to be the band leader obliged on his guitar. “Ye gamok, …doh lloh ah” (Right maybe …let’s do it) said the lead guitarist, turning to nod at the drummer. “A wang, tuu, trii…” (A one, two, three…) and the band started playing. I was terrified, had never sang with a band before, but saw Cik Gu Samsu nodding his head, right arm raised. Nod, nod, nod then down came the arm as if sending me off on the hundred meter dash on Sports Day. I took the cue and started singing…”Bi yya lukkaa, ddaa laang daa daa…” (Biar luka dalam dada).

It was a great relief to get to the end of the song. The band was still playing and Cik Gu Samsu was still nodding away, eyes closed. I stole a glance at the guitarist but he seemed to be busy comparing his guitar with the rhythm guitarist, like they always do while performing, playing to each other. So I looked at the drummer to come to my rescue which he did, with the “doong, doong, doong” of the drum followed by the “cheay” of the clashing cymbals, he pointed to me, drumstick in hand, and I started singing all over again to the end, then the band faded to a proper close.

“Skali agi ah…..dok soh ccakak teganung, ccakak luor….nynyanying macang Saloma tu ‘o! Hoh ambek mai’k ning” (Once again….lose the Trengganuspeak, use the standardspeak…sing like Saloma…take this microphone) Cik Gu Samsu said, a little advice, more reproach, while he handed over the microphone. We did the song again, twice, and I could feel the confidence building up each time, although I could not hear myself over the din of the band and I still depended on the wise Cik Gu to start singing. Before leaving, he intimated, “Esok Cik Gu dok ccacang ka’k pitu nning, awok atah steh tengok ttang Cik Gu biar Cik Gu wi sigena, pahang do’k?” (Tomorrow I will stand up at this door, you on the stage must look my way let me give the signal, understand?) I nodded, made doubly sure of which door to look at for his cue, and ran all the way home to break the news of the imminent stardom, the sound of applause already ringing in my ears!

Sekolah Pusat Bukit Besar (Bukit Besar Central Primary School), although new, did not have a hall. For the weekly assembly we stood in rows facing the flagpoles in a small tarred area between the two single storey blocks. So for the concert, the bright green collapsible partitions separating our classrooms were pushed to the side walls, some tables were arranged at one end to form the stage while the chairs were placed in rows, a dozen on each side of a central aisle, and hey presto! A concert hall it was!

Concert day came as anticipated. The hall was filled to the brim with pupils from both the morning and afternoon sessions together. Parents came too, some with their toddlers, others with parents of theirs and their neighbours. Right after prize giving the seniors sang and did a sketch, and then it was my turn, the first solo performance for the afternoon.

The walk up the stage was brisk, followed by a prim and proper curtsey, directly towards the important people from Jjabak Pelajarang (Pejabat Pelajaran – State Education Department) and our headmaster on front row, center. Then the band started playing and I confidently glanced towards the door identified the day before. I looked, blinked, and looked again, there was no Cik Gu Samsu, not at that or any other door! Images of the other teachers swirled around in my head, Cik Gu Ramlah, Cik Gu Nik Lah, Cik Gu Hajjah, Cik Gu Wan Hassan, Cik Gu Hassan Sabri, Cik Gu Badaruddin….but where oh where was Cik Gu Samsu?

It must have been the first time I turned into stone. From somewhere far away I heard a faint “doong, doong, doong, cheay” I opened my mouth on the next crash of the cymbals but no voice came forth. I stood there transfixed, letting go of “doong, doong, doong, cheay” one after another until I heard the bald headed guitarist breathe down my neck “Nynyanying dderah ah Mek, bbunying macang reko’k buru’k doh ning” (Sing quickly, girl, we sound like an old record now). That made me jump out of my skin and I finally bellowed into the microphone, the guitars and the drums haphazardly trying to keep up with me for the rest of the song. It felt as if a whole year went by before the song came to its end, a close to tears curtsey, and off I went, down the stage through the nearest door, sobbing all the way home. But they did applaude, surely they did, for the entertainment value if nothing else.

Guess I got over the stage fright later on in my teenage years as I gave in to the cajoling of aunties and cousins into singing at weddings, usually after most of the guests had left, and I did come second in a school talentime. Still, I am happy to report that my career now is not in the performing arts or music. As happened this morning, the singing is confined to the kitchen and more often, the shower. And if you ever catch me singing a Karaoke, I’ll have you know that it is because, in some obscure way, my life depends on it.