Fierceland

ROZANA 

1998

Crazy Auntie says that all human beings were created to play games, that’s what makes us human lah. Play is freedom, she says, and our minds are the greatest playgrounds of all. I dunno about all that. What I do know, without a shadow of a doubt, is that the best video game ever is Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time. Hands down. Even though me and Harun don’t know anyone who has actually played it yet, the world knows it bah, everyone knows it, and if Abah truly loves us, he’ll bring it back for us from his business trip to Kuala Lumpur. 

Me and Harun will be the first kids in all of Kota Kinabalu to own it, and I’ll definitely be the first girl – everyone at school is gonna be so jealous, oh. We’ve nagged Abah so much, I’m worried he won’t buy it for us, just to prove a point, so sometimes I have to drag Harun away from him. Harun, with his big black eyes and wavy black hair and triangular face, like a pretty little alien, always wearing the same No Doubt t-shirt. Gross. We go out together onto the balcony to count boats on the hazy bay, green-blue, or into the kitchen to steal kumquat sticks and Ring Pops while our maid Siti isn’t looking, or crumple up balls of paper for our little cat Jiji to play with, or sit on the loungeroom floor drawing with oil pastels while Mak flicks between channels. But Zelda’s never far from our minds. 

A week ago, before Abah left KK (that’s what everyone calls Kota Kinabalu), we were mooching around, hanging in the doorway of his and Mak’s bedroom, watching him get ready to fly to the peninsula for his big meeting. The air con was blasting. Abah kept adjusting the knot in the silk paisley tie he’d bought in Italy, picking Jiji’s white fur off his crow-coloured suit, preening goatee and moustache, twisting his head side to side to observe himself. Abah, skinny and straight-backed, hair brilliant with Brylcreem, six-foot-one – tall for a Malay man – with a head slightly too big for his neck. He looked handsome that day. And knew it.