Kakak and Recess

The Kakak here is so good to a glutton such as I. Without realising it, I've started going down for recess as soon as the clock hit 10:30, or earlier, on days where the kids are behaving and I'm starving. Once downstairs, I simply sit in the kitchen and wait. Wait, waiting for the Kakak to come in with the plastic containers that hold the leftover snacks the Kindergarteners couldn't finish during their break.

Sometimes, she doesn't show up, or if she does, there'd be nothing left of the sugary treats that schools shouldn't be feeding our already hyperactive young. My greedy self would of course feel a pang of disappointment when my stomach growled, but the Kakak is also the only staff that bothers talking to me so our brief chat, in place of biscuits, acts as the refreshment before another round of sheep herding.

I don't think I've asked for her name. Actually, I have never asked for her name. The other teachers here, do they even know what her name is? Kakak, it's always Kakak. Kakak sini, Kakak sana, Kakak minta mop-- just Kakak.

She never asked for my name either.

Perhaps names aren't important, or they may be too familiar an address between two people who only talk to each other in the kitchen for a few minutes each day. Beyond her name, I know how many siblings she has, how she lives in a long-house back home, and the fact that she sent her adopted child to a Chinese school. But her name, I still haven't a clue about that.

I grabbed three pieces of Chips More Mini from the container when she took the lid off. They were crunchier than I had expected, so my hand went into the container a second time, then a third. Quite content that I've had my little fix, it was time to clear my bladder and go back upstairs.

Kind as she is, Kakak filled up a tiny takeaway container with the cookies, saying that they're for me. Just the other day, she stuffed one Taufu-fa sized container with Bayam for me to take home. They're still sitting in the fridge, unopened, since last Thursday. Nobody but the general waste bag is going to eat them now.

Six or seven pieces of Chips More Mini can't possibly end world hunger. But lunchtime is nigh, and my suffering shan't last for long.