Campus Life Part 1: The nitty-gritty details of living in a hostel

I just noticed that I haven’t really been writing about campus life here in the International Islamic University in detail, and I know that, albeit boring person that I am, I’m sure there are people out there who are curious about what it’s been like here for me.

First of all, I CANNOT BELIEVE it’s been FOUR WEEKS. (or has it been five? *hastily checks calendar on phone* Ok, five if including the nightmarish taaruf week).

The hostel I live in is Mahallah Safiyyah, nestled among all the guys’ hostels and separated from other female hostels by a mile. When I first found out about it, I was pretty pleased as it might mean I could put my trusted binoculars to use again and spy on footballers through my windows like the good ol’ days in PJ. My friends were all ‘oh, you like that, don't you, Anisah!’ when I told them which hostel I got.

Unfortunately, it turned out that the only action my binoculars and I would be getting from my window would be of … motorcycles. Parked motorcycles.

And the rooms are small. Mahallah Safiyyah is the only hostel that crams 8 people per room. Sure, I’ve faced 20 roommates when I was still in Nilai, but at least the rooms there were huge. And you got a gargantuan study room. Here, the rooms are further divided into four miniscule compartments that are as big as your regular cupboard-under-the-stairs (made so famous by Harry Potter – but even he got it better since he only had to share the space with spiders. And, let’s face it, a billion spiders wouldn’t take up as much room as a human being. Albeit one who is 127cm tall). Add to that a bunk bed, two metal wardrobes, one long desk to be shared by two people, two chairs and voila! You get yourself a compartment shared by two people who have to duck, squirm, climb or jump to navigate their way around. And it’s never as cool as Lara Croft makes it look like.

Mornings when both people in one compartment have to get dressed at the same time is a nightmare of jabbing elbows, wet towels and slick manoeuvring. I usually dress in the shower stall since it’s so much easier than discreetly pulling on my underwear less than a foot away from my compartment-mate, Hanim. And I kind of feel sorry for Hanim, because I am a very messy person. (Hanim, I know you’re reading this, so please forgive me for my untidiness! I just can’t help it =/)

But staying in a room with seven other people is also great because you’ll never feel it’s too quiet. However, I have yet to establish the same connection I had in Nilai last semester with these people. But that’s mostly my fault because, contrary to what most people think, I’m very shy and reserved when I’m surrounded by most people, to the point that I doubt they’d even want me around… (don’t believe me? Then why do you think I hardly mix around with other HS students? It’s shyness and doubt, not arrogance.)

Oh, yeah, I mentioned shower stalls before, right? Well, praised be to Allah, for the toilets here are CLEAN. Wonderfully clean and spacious and scrubbed regularly by Mak Cik Cleaners. In fact, I could go as far as to say that the toilets are pretty.

However, during the first week of toilet-usage, there was a slight.. misunderstanding on my part of how the, err, flushing system worked. You see, some of the loos here are the usual sit-down types you always get overseas, and that you rarely use here in Malaysia because there would always be wet, black footprint marks on the seats left behind by the oh-so-considerate user before you, who had squatted on the seat instead of politely planting their bum on it. (Though, in desperate times when there are no other loos available, I have found myself resorting to wiping the toilet seat with tissue, then completely covering it with tissue altogether, like how Jim Carrey did in The Mask. Squatting on it is a no-no for me because I know I’ll just fall off and break a hip).

The other type of loo is the Asian Loo. This is what it looks like.

Yeah, I know, I was quite horrified when I first came to Malaysia and saw it, too. Look! There’s a hole in the floor for you to poo in! my eight-year-old self had shrieked when discovering this mutated species of loos in the toilet of the new house.

But when you think about it, it’s actually hygienic because all you have to do is squat, do your business, then you’re done. No contact between your skin and the germ-ridden seat, so no risk of infectious diseases or whatever. It is because of this loo that people in Malaysia like to leave their footprints (or worse) so much on toilet seats. Squatting is so much easier.

Anyway, I digress.

So, after the first time I used the Asian Loo here on campus, I wanted to flush it (naturally). I stood up, and started to look for the pulley so that I could wash away all my bad deeds. You see, Asian Loos fix their tanks high up on the wall so that you don’t break your back on it when straightening up. I think.

I couldn’t find the pulley. I went on tiptoe, I looked here, I looked there, and there was no button or pulley for me to hide all evidence of my call to nature.

So I assumed there was none and simply left the toilet.

Hey, don’t look at me that way! My grandfather’s wooden-house-on-stilts in Kelantan had an Asian Loo with no flush, either. We just did our business, then allowed nature to take its course. So my assuming a flush pulley/button didn’t exist after searching for one with no avail wasn’t that far fetched.

So, it was only one week later, when I used the loo with a seat for the first time, with its low tanks, that the truth was unceremoniously revealed. I discovered that, not only was there a fully-functioning flush system, but there was a button too – it was situated right on top of the tank.

When I asked my roommate Syeera about it, she told me she had known all along where the flush button had been, even with the Asian Loos. Probably on account of her not being 4'11. Or too short to ride Go-Karts at amusement parks. (Seriously; I’m 6cm too short).

Sigh. The trials of being a human dwarf.