Photo: My friend Janna at age 5A fishy little girl named Janna, who frequents my tiny but perennially jam-packed aquarium located somewhere in the left tower, is leisurely building a career of her own in our waterless Water World. Lunchtime never goes on uninterrupted whenever she comes around. All human senses, including those pretending to be human, constantly seize a brief hiatus, if only to welcome eagerly the much-awaited daily arrival of this precocious little creature. As if an old-fashioned gentleman, everyone else in the room attempts to offer her a seat but they always end up frustrated, for she oddly prefers standing. Her mother Astrid voluntarily accepts the offers but unfortunately, these offers expire as quickly as the outlandish Janna refuses them.
Barely five months ago, as the school year started, Janna had been re-introduced by her mother to this waterless Water World I am connected with.
“Re-introduced”, for much earlier, and for reasons one could hardly fathom, the girl projected nothing else but an ambiguous character. She detested socializing with the other and much bigger fishes in the aquatic setting of our waterless Water World. No spectacular antics can ever snatch her interest. Not even the sweetest smile nor candy our waterless Water World can offer, can draw her intangible attention away from her own mysterious planet. Definitely, this was one child so hard to please. Janna was such a snob you’d presume she was blind, deaf, mute or something. When I finally spotted that elusive funny bone in her, I found out she was really something.
In those days, Janna blatantly exuded an air of intriguing vagueness. Smitten by her virtual nonexistence, and snoopy as I am, I struggled to figure out why this little girl’s cold-shoulder treatment on everyone else emitted challenge on my part. It took me awhile to understand this strange behavior and realized only a few months later that the girl’s snootiness reminded me of someone else. Aside from the likeness of our hair, suddenly I could identify with her. Trying to recall from the past, I remember having been rebuked often by friends of this now familiar peculiarity. Little by little, the girl’s alleged vagueness was getting clearer each day. Until I finally sensed that seeing her was like seeing MYSELF for the first time, from someone else’s eyes! I wonder what took me so long?
Sensing our amusing similarities, it was easier for me this time to get hold of her attention, and at last, hit it off well with her. My secret weapon? Well, how else is it to get through a child’s heart but to offer her toys? And loads of toys I’ve got. (I’m probably the only one left among the Water World populace who still believes in the power of toys.)
Since then, my lethargic third quarter afternoons were spent bonding with her. Conversations nobody dared to broaden. Games nobody dared to play. In short, Janna and I were often left without a choice but to deal with each other. Spending long hours together, we have created an unusual performance, which unfortunately, irritates any wary spectator. I would stand about two meters away from her, with my feet securely braced on the floor, and clap my hands twice.
Pak! Pak! Off she runs, then jumps towards me as I catch her with my geared up arms, simultaneously with her own arms spread wide, legs curled backwards and head turned up as high as she can. I have to sustain that temporary strength for she takes a long time putting an end to our infamous circus act. Her legs are still curled up, my arms still shaking, even by the time I put her down.
(Note: Do not imitate this with anybody a pound heavier than Janna.)As a five-year old girl with a 31-year old mind, Janna is a nonconforming being. She peels her hotdogs before devouring them into her microscopic mouth. She insists on calling her mother
“Mommy” despite the latter’s pleas to save it for later when the family’s already rich and famous. Just days before her 5th birthday, she casually asked her mother how she looked like when she was 16. Of course, her mother was dumbfounded. The mother herself could not create a picture of her astute daughter eleven years ahead. Janna’s likewise curious why my boss Alan knows my name. With my two sets of index and middle fingers crossed, I told her,
“we’re close”. She immediately switched to
“Bubbles” when she found out her favorite Power Puff girl was actually named
“Blossom” and not
“Glossom”, reasoning it out as hard to pronounce. She creates games with her own rules. Abide by these rules, otherwise, she’ll throw you out of the game. She abhors being called
“little Astrid”. At such an early age, the girl certainly wants to establish an identity far different and obviously, much better from that of her mother’s. And never, ever mess with her teeny weeny eyes (oops! sorry!), or bear with the lengthy rejection from her until she’s completely pacified.
In our waterless Water World, Janna’s a renowned
“one-liner” kid and my personal favorite is this one. Having gone back recently to a life sans the worldly cellular phone, and finding the necessity of texting someone, I decided to borrow a friend’s Nokia 5110. With Janna seated beside me, I reached out an arm to take the offered cellphone. Without batting an eyelash, she stared at me and quipped,
“Bagaa!” (Thick-faced!). I was so shocked I could not speak for a moment. Finally, after having recovered my senses, I managed to utter a word to her,
“Ako?” (Me?). She snapped back,
“Ang cellphone ba! Ang sa akong mama kay mas nipis man!” (I meant the cellphone! My mother’s is slimmer!). Weeks later, I got so relieved to find out her mother’s cellphone was a Philips GD90 model. Whew!
Daily departures from the waterless Water World for her are practically unpleasant, especially when her mother needs to stay longer for some extended work, and she’s left with no other choice but to go home ahead with her father. Shedding a tear that usually turns into a bawl is a regular sight, that is if you still catch her running away from the fish-infested doors. If your senses are no more than average, expect to see nothing else but her father’s back view walking towards the elevators.
It is in these times that Janna once more vanishes and slips back into her now predictable oblivion. For me, this recurring scene may seem amusing but is sometimes distressing as well. There are moments I wish to laugh at the thought of her getting upset for being asked to go home, but am often reminded of one particular occasion with her. We were playing one of those
“originally-Janna-made” games and sensing her laughing profusely at me, I told her
“I’d rather leave, you’re making fun of me.” Promptly concealing my dismay, she smiled sweetly and replied,
“Of course not, why should I, we’re the best of friends, aren’t we?” My heart froze and ever since, I have forgotten about wishing to laugh back at her. Instead, I look forward to the next day and fervently wait for her to greet me again with
“Did you miss me?”.
Post Script:Contrary to the subject, the author is a 31-year old girl with a five-year old mind. Oh, but that’s another story.Post Post Script Pa Gyud:
This note was written sometime in November 2001.
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