Some people can communicate by talking in a loud voice. They shout at each other even they stand less than 12 inches apart. They talk as the other person needs a hearing aid. I'm one of those people who have a hard time to communicate with loud talkers.
I remember when the first time my mother took me to visit my maternal grandmother when I was six years old. My mother was adopted by Tok when she was a baby. She was the only grandmother we ever had, eventhough she never treated any of us as her grandchildren.
My maternal grandmother was known as Tok Gemok because of her size. Her house was like a summer camp, only it was all year around camp. There were so many children (my cousins), uncles and aunties in the house, I didn't know who was coming or who was leaving.
I remember sitting next to mother, leaning my body to her warm body, trying to figure out what was going on with all the shouting. Every few minutes some kids would approached Tok Gemok asking for some thing or, somebody would shout from the kitchen downstairs that somebody hit him. Tok Gemok responded to them by screaming at them that scared the shit out of me.
At one point Tok Gemok told them off by saying she was going to smack their heads to the wall if they didn't stop bothering her. They rolled their eyes and went away.
Those young men whom I learnt later as my uncles were as bad as Tok Gemok too. One of them said to one of my cousins he was going to pick him up and throw his ugly behind to the beach. The little sucker snorted and disappeared behind the coconut trees.
The amazing thing was, no matter howw harsh these kids were threatened, it didn't stop them to return and bothered their 'mean' uncles and aunties. That was what I thought, these people were mean.
One of my aunties told me to go and play with one cousins downstairs in the front yard. I shook my head and shot a quick look at my mother, "No, I'm not going and don't make me" look before she finished her sentence. Just listening to their loud snorting and sscreaming voices, calling stupid and ugly to each other had turned off any desire I had to join them.
When I was 11 years old I had a classmate named Latiffah. Her family was like Tok Gemok's family too. They communicated to each other by shouting. Father to mother, father to sons, father to daughters, mother to father, sons to father, daughter to mothers, mother to sons and sisters to brothers.
The first time Latiffah came over to my house, she was surprised to see my mother and my father were in the kitchen and they were not shouting at each other. On top of that my two little brothers and my sister KN sat at the kitchen table having their teas.
Now at my work place, I meet the same people with different name and different story. I'm aware the fact that working in Human Service, the first thing I have to remind myself over and over is this mantra, "I't not about me, it's about them". I've learned not to be sensitive, I've learned not to take it personally, but sometimes they get me. They get me by the way I respond to them. I don't respond to them by talking back in a loud voice or loud tone. But I respond to them by my internal reaction. This is bothers me. I don't want my decision making be influenced by split second weakness. It's about them, it's about them, I keep reminding myself.
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