I spent some time with bother number 1 at his condominium a few weeks ago. He’s been suffering from rib-shattering coughs for quite a while. Diagnosed with 4th stage lung cancer last November, he was on a chemotherapy and/or immunotherapy trial program until recently with Beacon Hospital. According to his doctor, brother number 1 was showing progress. There was a reduction in the size of his tumour. Encouraging news, yes. But, for reason/s that are unclear to me, he’s no longer on that trial.

Visibly, brother number 1 has lost considerable weight, and looks frail. He has difficulty breathing. Daily activities like showering, eating, and walking a few paces, require effort. Despite these difficulties, he is determined to fight on. Positivism is his standout characteristic. Whatever business venture or interest he pursued at any given time, he was enthusiastic and spoke at length about it. His aim is to defeat the big C. And, I hope and pray he will.

I’ve known brother number 1 all my life. It feels like it. Five years older than me, he has been a permanent feature almost all though my lifetime. I have very fond childhood memories of us. Especially growing up in our Seberang Perak house in Alor Setar. Beside the Haji sundry shop. He, to me, was the epitome of an older brother. Protective, helpful, caring, loving, innovative and smart. He was good fun and echt.

The birth order or hierarchy of my siblings meant my four sisters occupied the top four spots of the totem pole. Followed by brothers 1 and 2. Then, me. Sisters 1 to 4 were older. The age gap invariably resulted in me hanging out with my brothers. I was one of the boys, quite literally. I had a pageboy haircut, and wore shirts/t-shirts and shorts. It was only when I started primary school that dresses were added to my limited wardrobe. Anyways, the four sisters were a unit that didn’t include me. I played with my brothers and the neighbourhood kids. Usually, it involved a bit of rough and tumble. Usually, it was brother number 1 who looked out for me.

As I remember it, he was always fixing and making things. Bar affordable computer games and/or store-bought toys, brother number 1 built a driveable one-seater box car with rubber tyres, produced three hand sawn wooden guns with the seeds of the Suji tree for bullets, and a ‘ sapsai’ or a shuttlecock-like contraption made up of round cut-out rubber from old bicycles, and chicken feathers that we juggled in the air. No chickens were hurt in the process as the feathers were discarded and/or shaken off by the chickens themselves.

The three of us were also turkey-herders for a while. Child labour, yes. We used to care for a rafter of turkeys until they all died from poisoning. Poor turkeys. Hmm. Questions were aplenty. Who did it and why? Why rear turkeys … in Alor Setar? My dad who presumably had the bright idea of buying them had no plans to sell them. Was there even a market for turkey/s? I cannot be sure but I don’t think there was, at least not back then. And, who had heard of Thanksgiving or turkey for Christmas? Really? Yes, really! Lest we forget, I was from small town Alor Setar. And, it was way before the arrival of Google, YouTube and Tik Tok.

Back to brother number 1. He had once written in my text book that ‘I was a God.’ What he intended to write was ‘I was a Dog.’ He wasn’t being mean or churlish. We just called each other unflattering names, and didn’t think or read too much into it. He used to call me ‘mota’ or bald. Why? Who knows? And, I still call him ‘Gunda’ or round-fatty. Not in a not nice way but endearingly. None of us knew he was dyslexic. Again back then, dyslexia, autism or depression were unheard of. All through my four years at university and over eight semesters, he used to drive me to and back from campus. A mighty distance of some 450km between Alor Setar and Bangi, Selangor. Long before toll-roads and highways. He knew some of my university mates. And, attended my graduation with my mum.

As adults, we pursued different paths but we stayed close – through our respective marriages, his two children, and various businesses. Yes, there were some trying times along the way but we always somehow/someway made up. In my mind, I thought/think we even managed to survive the most tumultuous phase when my mum became unwell two years ago.

Now, we are in another uncertain, unhappy stage/situation in our lives. My heart and head continue to weigh heavy with the current every day, and the unknown future.  I hope and pray brother number 1’s positive attitude will help/guide him through this exceptionally tough and challenging time.