MALAY POEMS AND SHORT STORIES WITH FRENCH TRANSLATION

KUALI HITAM/ A FRYING PAN/ LA POELE A FRIRE

Poems carry thoughts
expressed in many ways. This is an example of a poem being expressed through a
common object in any kitchen that is a frying pan.  But the thoughts and message delivered is not
only the service of the utensil but a mother’s love and  sacrifices  in bringing up her children.  The poet says that a frying pan in the
kitchen where she was born was her was her mother’s best friend

The poet remembered
how her mother worked hard in the kitchen and around the house and may be in
the field so that her children have something to eat. Nothing pleased her mum more
than to see them enjoying their food.  

But they were too
young then to see the depth of mother’s sacrifice.  They did not 
realize  that the mother who hugged
them lovingly suffered physically due to exposure to the fire in the kitchen
year after year. The soot and smoke were hurting her eyes. The skin scraped by
the hot  oil. More than that when they
were peacefully snoring at nights the mother could not sleep.  She coughed   till
the early hours since her lungs have been scratched by smoke and ashes.

The poet grew up and live in the city with her modern
kitchen with shiny stainless frying pan /woks. One day the aged mother came and
as usual  tried to be as helpful and useful.
The mother cooked and after the meal washed the dishes. This is where the sad thing
happened. The mother scrubbed a pan with a bristle brush the way she did at home.
The poet was alarmed and  cried out that the
mother has ruined her costly utensil.  The
mother was very hurt .

A few years later when
her mother has returned to the Lord, the poet was in deep remorse. She realized
her mistakes.  How could she raise her voice
to a mother who have gone through such hardship to feed them.   How could
she have valued a cooking utensil more than a mother’s love.

KUALI HITAM

Sebiji kuali hitam

di dapur rumah kelahiran

adalah teman ibuku

siang dan malam

Sebiji kuali hitam

terjerang di atas tungku

adalah penghibur ibu

ketika kami menunggu

 Sebiji kuali hitam

di atas api siang dan malam

tahun demi tahun

kami tidak pernah
menghitung

 Seorang ibu yang menyayangi sebiji kuali

sering memeluk kami

pernahkah kami
perhatikan

matanya yang ditikam serbuk arang

kulitnya yang dikoyak percikan minyak

lengannya yang diserap abu hitam

dahinya yang disengat pucuk api

kami hanya tahu lena kekenyangan

ketika tidur ibu diketuk-ketuk

oleh lelah dan
batuk

setelah
asap dan abu menggaru-garu

di
paru-paru

 Kami tidak pernah
menyedari

dan ibu pun tidak
peduli

dia hanya tahu
merasa bahagia

melihat kami
keriangan

menunggu sesuatu
akan terhidang

dan tidak ada yang
lebih membahagiakan

dari melihat kami
kekenyangan

Begitulah tahun
demi tahun

kuali yang setia menjalankan tugasnya

hingga kami dewasa dan hidup di kota

(2)

  

Kini di dapur rumahku yang bersih

tak ada kuali hitam yang hodoh

cuma pada kesempatan

yang tidak selalu
sempat

aku memasak untuk anak-anak

dengan kuali non-stick

yang tebal dan
mahal

dan sesudah itu
membasuhnya

dengan sabun yang
lembut

berhati-hati
seperti memandikan bayi

mengikut
arahan pada buku panduan

Suatu hari ibu ke
rumahku

dengan kerajinannya yang biasa

memasak untuk kami sekeluarga

cucu-cucunya ternyata amat berselera

dan ibu merasa terlalu bahagia

Dan sesudah itu

dengan cara yang
dia tahu

mengemas dan merapikan dapurku

dan seperti yang biasa dibuat

pada kualinya di kampung

dia menyental kualiku yang mahal

dengan berus yang kesat

dan spontan aku
menjerit

“Ibu
merosakkan kuali saga

tahukah ibu berapa
harganya?”

Ibu terdiam

barangkali hatinya
terguris

barangkali dia hampir menangis

melihat wajahku yang bengis

(3)

Dan
kini

setelah ibu
kembali kepada Ilahi

aku menyesali
keterlanjuran

kiranya
aku telah mengukur kasih sayang ibu

dengan
harga sebiji kuali

Ibu telah tiada

kuali
hitam tergantung sepi

di
dinding dapur rumah tua

bolehkah
kami menghitung

berapa
harganya