By Zakiah Senin
Years ago, we were managing a community centre dedicated to serving the urban poor and the homeless in Kuala Lumpur. Among those who came to us was a single mother named Endah (not her real name).
Endah worked part-time at a small eatery and collected scrap items to sell to recyclers. Her earnings barely covered the family’s basic needs, and she relied on additional assistance to ensure her two daughters could remain in school.
Both children performed well academically, yet their personalities were strikingly different. The younger daughter was gentle and shy, while the elder was strong-willed, resistant to advice, and preferred spending time with friends.
One day, her eldest confronted her:
“If you want me to succeed, then stop telling me what to do!”
Endah was stunned, her heart breaking at the harshness of her child’s tone. She replied softly but firmly:
“Alright, I agree — but on one condition.”
Her daughter, curious, asked what it was. Endah looked her straight in the eye and said:
“I will follow you wherever you go.”
Her daughter fell silent, caught off guard by her mother’s resolve. Slowly, she muttered:
“Fine… but remember, don’t interfere with what I do.”
From that day on, Endah shadowed her daughter’s every move. She sat quietly on the staircases of shopping malls, watched them play video games, listened as they sang at karaoke centres, and walked alongside them aimlessly through the city streets.
Her feet ached from keeping pace, but her heart ached even more as she witnessed her eldest child drifting deeper into fleeting pleasures.
Yet her silent presence was a shield. The children, though mischievous, still felt a sense of shame, still showed respect, still acknowledged her watchful eyes. Over time, they began to consult her before making decisions about where to go.
They treated her kindly, even calling her Mum. At times, they themselves even scolded her daughter if she acted disrespectfully toward Endah.
Eventually, her daughter began to feel that Endah was giving more attention to others than to her. That realisation stirred something within. She chose, of her own accord, to abandon her reckless habits and refocus her attention on her studies. Praise be to God — her mother’s sacrifice bore fruit.
Endah’s soul was as steadfast as a coral rock. A coral rock may seem small, yet it does not budge nor erode when struck by waves. In fact, the waves themselves make it stronger, firmer, more enduring.
The waves are life’s trials: the harder they crash, the more they hurt, the more they test patience and faith.
But a soul as steadfast as a coral rock endures. Her patience grew deeper, her faith stronger. Out of love for her child, Endah chose a path that seemed irrational, exhausting, and painful. Yet in the end, that choice yielded the very outcome she had longed for.
Truly, as the old Malay saying goes: Yang bulat tidak akan datang bergolek, yang pipih tidak akan datang melayang. (What is round will not roll to you, what is flat will not fly to you).
(My thoughts on volunteerism — values and principles close to my heart — are also shared in my book “Suka Rela Sukar Lawan”, published by Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka in 2024.) Enquiries can be directed to zakiahsenin@gmail.com
Zakiah Senin is a steadfast volunteer of Yayasan SALAM Malaysia, an NGO that has been dedicated to volunteerism in Malaysia for the last 30 years.