In Sync

"No!" Cikgu Hamidi's voice boomed with anger. "There’s just too much to do right now.”

Nurazlina's heart sank. She had been trying to secure a venue for the District-Level Singing Competition, but it seemed like every school in Penampang was already overloaded with their own activities. 

"But, Cikgu," she pleaded, "this competition is for the kids. It's an opportunity for them to showcase their talents and represent their schools."

Mary watched her best friend's desperation with empathy. She knew how hard Nurazlina had been working to make these competitions a success. Despite teaching at different schools, they had been collaborating for years to organise various co-curricular events in their district.

Nurazlina had taken on the role of Technical Officer, and Mary had been her trusty secretary. It was an unofficial position, but Mary didn't mind. She was happy to help out her friend, especially when Nurazlina was feeling overwhelmed.

As they left Cikgu Hamidi’s school, Nurazlina looked defeated and frustrated. "Let's go," she said, her voice heavy with disappointment.

Mary rubbed her friend's shoulder in a gesture of comfort. "We'll find a way," she said with determination. "We always do."

***

"Aargh! I simply don’t know where to turn next," sighed Nurazlina, as Mary sat across from her at their cosy Starbucks haven. Mary remained thoughtfully silent, nursing her Americano with an air of introspection.

Starbucks had become their haven, a place to revel in their successes or release the tensions of daily life. On this day, it was the latter.

“Ugh, we've been busting our butts preparing all this documentation and budget requests, but what's the point if nobody wants to host the event?!” 

“Calm down, Lin.”

“How can you even ask me to calm down? My head is practically on the verge of exploding. Ugh, I'm super stressed right now.”

The air grew quiet for a moment as they both felt frustrated.

Then, a sudden sparkle lit Mary's eyes. "What about…SMK Saint Elizabeth?"

Nurazlina's gaze rested on her friend, pondering. Mary forged ahead, her voice bubbling with excitement, "Puan Sharon, the principal, simply adores co-curricular activities, particularly the artistic and cultural sort!"

"Yes, but Cikgu Mason is teaching there. You do know he’s such a dreadful snob, don’t you? He'll surely dismiss me outright." 

"Ah, but we'll go straight to Puan Sharon," Mary grinned conspiratorially.

Nurazlina's eyes widened. "Oh, you're a genius! I should've thought of that! I'll message her right this instant!"

Mary beamed, watching her best friend's fingers fly across the screen. 

Message dispatched, Nurazlina turned back to Mary. "So that means—"

"I've got the paperwork covered. I could do it in my sleep," Mary reassured her.

Nurazlina grasped Mary's hands, her eyes glistening. "Thank you. I couldn't manage without you. You deserve so much more credit. I get the accolades when events succeed, but your hard work is the real foundation."

Mary waved her off. "Nonsense. You've earned every bit of praise."

Just then, Nurazlina's phone chimed. "It's Puan Sharon!" she cried, darting outside for privacy.

Amused, Mary pondered on Nurazlina's sentiment. Honestly, she couldn't care less about the credit. The idea of taking Nurazlina's place was utterly horrifying. It was true that her efforts often went unrecognised, but she was spared the wrath of irate teachers, the constant travel for briefings, and the endless meetings. She was content with her simple, unassuming life as a teacher, doing her job and relishing the challenge of multi-tasking.

Nurazlina burst back into Starbucks, radiant as a jubilant child. "Yesss! Puan Sharon said yes!"

"Bravo!" Mary beamed with pride.

"This calls for a toast!" Nurazlina declared, hoisting her Americano.

Their plastic cups met in a silent clink, laughter bubbling forth. But, right as they were on the cusp of indulging in their drinks, Nurazlina suddenly shielded her face with her hand and squeezed her eyes shut, as though hiding from an unwelcome presence.

"Why?" Mary inquired, just as two women approached their table. One was clad in a red kebaya, while the other sported a grey blouse.

"Hello, you're Cikgu Nurazlina, right?" the woman in the kebaya asked.

Cornered, Nurazlina mustered a strained smile. "Yes, that's me."

"We have a question about the traditional percussion competition," the woman in the blouse chimed in. "We've been searching for you, and thank goodness, you're here."

"How about I give you my number and we can chat later?" Nurazlina suggested politely. "I'm a bit tied up at the moment."

Sensing their intrusion, both women offered sheepish, apologetic smiles. "Of course, sorry to bother you," the woman in the kebaya said.

As the two teachers saved Nurazlina’s number and retreated, Nurazlina exhaled a deep sigh of relief, and they both laughed. For Mary, it was another reminder of why she cherished her life away from the limelight.

***

A week had whisked by since Mary and Nurazlina's Starbucks rendezvous, and Mary couldn't help but feel a twinge of loneliness without her best friend by her side. Nurazlina was swept up in a whirlwind of activity—endless meetings at the State Education Office, finalising details for the upcoming state-level competitions, and dashing from school to school for briefing after briefing.

Mary sat in the staff room at her desk, covered in papers. She was not outside like Nurazlina, but she was busy nonetheless. Timetables needed changes, invitations to judges, budget requests, forms, and reports. Still, she liked her familiar place. She could teach, grade, and make lesson plans. Nurazlina was out, busy with other things and Mary knew her friend would come back to a desk full of unfinished work.

While empathising Nurazlina, Mary wouldn't change spots for anything. Instead, she did what she could to lighten her friend's load, preparing all the necessary documents for the upcoming events, ensuring Nurazlina could move forward seamlessly. Mary was happy to help; her passion for co-curricular activities shone brightly, even if her contributions remained hidden behind the scenes.

***

Unfortunately, Mary's comfort was short-lived as the very next day, she found herself in an unexpected and challenging situation. With Nurazlina occupied at yet another meeting in a distant district, Mary had been tasked with overseeing the final preparations for the winning team of the recent district-level dancing competition.

Mary understood the importance of attending the final rehearsal; this team would represent their district at the state-level competition in just a few days. She arrived at the dance studio in a light-hearted mood, only to find the team's performance distinctly lacklustre. She knew she had to address her concerns.

Gathering her courage, she approached the dance trainer—an effeminate man with a diva-like attitude, hired by the team's principal—and cleared her throat. "Excuse me, sir. Could we discuss the performance?"

He cast her a disdainful glance. "Who are you?"

"I'm Cikgu Mary, Cikgu Nurazlina's secretary. You must be Mr. Ray, right?"

"Yes, I'm Ray. What's the problem with the performance?"

"Well, it appears the team is performing the Sumazau dance. During the rehearsal, I noticed the female dancers' movements were rather... rough."

"Rough?"

"Yes. You see, I'm Kadazan, and that's my traditional dance. According to tradition, the female dancers should move gently. Their arms shouldn't sway as vigorously as they were, and their smiles should be subtle, not broad grins," Mary explained, downplaying her expertise by merely mentioning her ethnicity. She lacked the boldness to inform the haughty Ray that she, too, was an accomplished dancer and choreographer for various troupes in her district. She didn't dare reveal that she had been the principal's first choice to train the team but had declined due to her commitments as Nurazlina's secretary.

Ray scoffed without missing a beat. "Well, you might be a Kadazan, but I know more about dancing than you do."

"Please, sir, just listen—" Mary began.

"Alright, everyone," Ray interrupted, clapping his hands to capture the students' attention, blatantly disregarding Mary. "Time for another practice." He shot a sardonic glance her way, raising his voice, "And girls, I want to see those big smiles and really swing those arms like this!" He demonstrated an exaggerated arm movement.

Mary's blood boiled, and she longed to yell at Ray, but she knew it wouldn't be worth it. She wanted to vent her frustrations to Nurazlina, but her friend was undoubtedly too busy to chat. So, without hesitation, she strode towards the studio's exit.

Once in her car, her heart swelled with determination. She promptly called Puan Faridah, the head of the Talent Management Unit at the District Education Office, to express her concerns and report the encounter with Ray.

To her disappointment, Puan Faridah dismissed her by saying, "Cikgu Mary. Just focus on your documentation work. Mr. Ray is a professional. He surely knows what he's doing."

"But, Puan, I know the national-level judges well, and I'm familiar with their criteria inside and out."

"Cikgu, please, I have many other tasks to attend to."

"Hello? Hello?" Mary only realised Puan Faridah had hung up on her after a moment of silence. Fuming, she drove off, her mind set on proving that insufferable Ray wrong. She knew exactly what she'd do once she arrived home later.

***

"Not now, darlings," Mary told her children, who persistently pleaded for her attention. "Mummy has some important work to do."

Settling in front of her laptop on the dining table at home, Mary felt a surge of determination. Document preparation was her forte, and she was resolved to create a comprehensive report detailing every aspect of the Sumazau dance. Words flowed from her fingertips like a river, as her mind brimmed with knowledge about her beloved traditional dance. She even included vintage black-and-white photographs of past performances, highlighting the smiles and arm movements of the female dancers, as well as screenshots from various Sumazau performances featuring herself as one of the dancers. She could hardly wait to complete her masterpiece, print it out, and throw it in Ray’s face with a flourish.

After what seemed like an eternity, Mary heaved a deep sigh of relief. She had finally finished her document, and with a few minor adjustments, she printed out all five pages. To ensure that her written work didn't go astray, she even emailed a copy to Puan Faridah.

Satisfied with her efforts, Mary carefully placed her printouts in her bag. She would return to the studio the next day and confront Ray, the snobbish highfalutin who had insulted her knowledge of the Sumazau dance. But for now, she turned to her children, a smile on her face, and exclaimed, "Alright! Playtime!" - instantly transforming into a doting mother once more.

***

"Remarkable!" Ray declared, leafing through the pages of Mary's meticulously crafted report.

A swell of pride filled Mary as she saw the impact her work had on Ray's perception. She realised that Ray wasn't truly a terrible person, just misguided.

"You're a dancer as well?" Ray inquired.

"Yes," Mary replied.

Ray nodded, scanning the report once more.  

Mary gave a slight cough, smiled warmly, and readied herself to impart more information. But, just as she was about to reconcile, Ray's smile soured. Then, swiftly, he held the edge of the papers and let them flutter to the floor, as if they were the most repulsive thing he'd ever touched.

"What do you think you're doing?" Mary seethed.

Ray ignored her, tapping away on his phone instead.

Mary gathered her report from the floor, brushing off imaginary dirt despite the pristine surface. Restraining her anger, she noticed Ray pressing his phone to his ear.

"Hello? Encik Suhaili?" Ray began, revealing to Mary that he was speaking with the school principal of the dance troupe. "Yes, Ray here. I have a request... Can you please ensure a teacher named Mary Samping isn't present at our next practice?"

Mary couldn't believe her ears.

"Yes, sir. She's a real hindrance. If you can't remove her, I'll quit, and you can have her train your team."

Mary recognized the futility of arguing a lost cause. She stormed out of the dance studio and marched to her car.

Settling into her car, she started the engine and headed directly to the District Education Office. She needed to speak with Puan Faridah. This was too much. Ray had gone too far.

***

Mary found herself waiting an agonising two hours before she could speak with the perpetually occupied Puan Faridah in her office.

"What’s the problem, Cikgu Mary?" Puan Faridah inquired, distractedly, her gaze fixed on her laptop screen.

"Puan, our dance troupe is competing in three days–"

"Oh, please, Cikgu. Not that again."

"Puan, I'm just trying to help. You're aware of my expertise. You know I'm an experienced choreographer. I know what's right and wrong."

"Well, so does Mr. Ray. And if you're that good, why did you decline when Encik Suhaili offered you the chance to train the students?"

"Puan, you know precisely why I declined. I have piles of paperwork to handle."

"Just a gentle reminder. No one asked you to take on that role. There's no official position as a Technical Officer's secretary. You placed yourself in that position."

"Puan, I was–" Mary began, then caught the implications of Puan Faridah's statement. Was this woman serious? She had spent countless nights tossing and turning, her pockets drained as she meticulously prepared paperwork of all sorts. She had worked tirelessly to organise schedules, invite judges, and plead for budgets, all for the betterment of her beloved district, which made people like Puan Faridah beam with pride. Yet, despite her best efforts, she was met with not only a lack of appreciation but also mockery. Could this be true? Her mind was a jumbled mess of thoughts and emotions, spinning so fast she could barely keep up. But she knew better than to let it get the best of her. So, taking a deep breath to steady herself, she let the words spill out of her mouth. "Never mind. Just trust that Ray guy. But mark my words. Our team will lose." She rose from her seat and departed from the building.

Seated in her car, Mary found herself at a loss for what to do. She quickly tapped out a message to Nurazlina: "Call me later." She yearned for someone to talk to and vent her pent-up frustrations, but she felt overlooked by those around her.

In the end, when she could no longer contain the emotional tempest, her bottled-up feelings overflowed in a surge of sobbing. The magnitude of her anguish compelled her to hold onto the steering wheel tightly, as if it were her only source of stability.

***

That night, Nurazlina finally called Mary, and Mary wasted no time spilling everything – the dreadful and obnoxious Ray, the exhausting five-page report, and the unappreciative Puan Faridah. Nurazlina didn't say much, but rather listened attentively, punctuating Mary's chatter with the occasional "Hmm" to show she was all ears. Despite Mary's tendency to repeat her story, Nurazlina remained patient and understanding, recognizing that her dear friend simply needed to unload her tension. 

After Mary had emptied her cup, Nurazlina apologised for placing her in such a predicament and assured her that she would return tomorrow to see what she could do to help. "You have my word, darling," she said. "Rest well, okay?" 

"Of course, Lin. Thanks for listening." 

"Anytime, love. Sweet dreams." 

Mary felt a weight lifted off her chest and was grateful for the chance to vent to someone who cared. Just when she thought it was time to end the call, Nurazlina piped up, "Oh, one more thing--" 

"Yes?" 

"Could you please send me the Sumazau document over WhatsApp?" 

"Sure thing." 

"Great, thanks. Sleep tight, darling." 

"Goodnight."

***

"So, how did the rehearsal go?" Mary inquired, taking a delicate sip of her Americano at their favourite Starbucks nook.

Nurazlina’s eyes twinkled. "Marvellous. I won't give away too much. I recorded it all, so here, watch for yourself." She handed Mary her phone.

Mary's eyes widened in delight as she watched the video. "Perfectly in sync! Such graceful movements and subtle, elegant smiles. No more of that dreadful over-the-top arm flailing! How on earth did you manage it?" She looked up at Norazlina, positively glowing with happiness.

Nurazlina shrugged. "Well, I had a little chat with Encik Suhaili and Puan Faridah, that's all."

"You’re simply extraordinary! I could never hope to be like you."

"Now, what do you mean by that?"

Mary sighed. "I've been trying to do the same thing, but no one ever listens to me. I suppose it's just one of those sidekick quirks. You, however, have such an aura about you. People simply listen."

"Oh, don't be so hard on yourself," Nurazlina chided. "Do you think I could've swayed them without your meticulously crafted five-page report?"

The two shared a warm laugh.

"Now that you mention it," Nurazlina continued, "Would you be a darling and write up something similar for the percussion competition? I told the judges they got the concept paper wrong, but they won't listen. Perhaps a well-argued written justification, like your genius Sumazau report, would do the trick."

Mary grinned. "Sure! But you'll have to be my 'voice' again when I need you next time."

"Deal."

They both laughed, sipping their Americanos and basking in the cosy ambiance of their beloved Starbucks sanctuary. Then, a thought occurred to Mary. "So, Lin, how's that diva-ish Ray of sunshine doing?"

Nurazlina chuckled. "Oh, he's absolutely petrified of me. No one dares to cross Nurazlina Sidek—or her dear friends!" The two women shared another laugh, clinking their plastic cups in a silent toast to friendship.

In that moment, a sudden realisation dawned upon Mary. Though she could never quite match Nurazlina's unflappable strength in handling tough personalities, she knew that Nurazlina could never hold a candle to her when it came to paperwork prowess. And so, she resolved to take a step back and allow Nurazlina to bask in the spotlight, content to play the supporting role. After all, every hero requires a trusty sidekick, doesn't she?