Doors serve as the entry and exit points in any building, whether a residence, office, outlet or any other establishment. A locked door prevents entry or exit, but without a door, entry and exit are not concerns.
In my rented apartment at Metrocity in May 2020, the door on the first floor failed to open from the inside, leaving me locked in. I attempted to break open the key knob but unfortunately failed.
I then knocked inside my room to alert Anna, my flatmate, and her young son. The son managed to pass me a screwdriver through the toilet window, as Room 9 has a back door leading to the back of the first-floor toilet.
With the screwdriver, I was able to open the knob, but I had to call the owner to replace the lock. He arrived within 20 minutes and installed a new lock. His swift response was commendable, although I was slightly perturbed at first.
Apart from the nine rooms, the apartment has two toilets/washrooms. With all nine rooms occupied by at least 15 individuals, privacy in the toilet/washroom is crucial, necessitating the closing or locking the door to prevent others from entering.
However, when a toilet door is removed due to age or damage, there is little one can do except avoid using that particular toilet/washroom. This was the case in our apartment in mid-November when one of the toilet/washroom doors was removed and only replaced about three weeks later.
All of us occupants shared one toilet/washroom for three weeks. Now that it has finally been installed, things are improving.
This door issue reminds me of several things. In Iban, a toilet is called ‘pintu,’ which is also the term in Malay. A P Ramlee movie is named after this, where a crying infant, named Ahmad Albab, stops crying when passing a door held by his grandfather (Tompel).
The name Albab means door in Malay. Additionally, an Iban male from Upper Krian in Saratok, who was married to my distant cousin, was named Pinto. He and his wife passed away over a decade ago, and I have lost contact with their offspring.
In a longhouse, ‘pintu’ describes the number of households sharing one roof, such as a twenty-door longhouse indicating 20 apartments or ‘bilik’ in the longhouse with 20 main doors, each leading to an individual household. For example, in our Kedap longhouse in Saratok, there are 28 doors or households.
Regarding our apartment’s missing toilet door, I may have been the only one brave enough to shower while clothed to avoid public indecency.
We were accustomed to bathing with our pants on in the Melupa River in Saratok before it became infested with crocodiles. Now we bathe without fear in the nearby Kedap stream, crossing the Melupa via a suspension bridge. Thus, I am accustomed to bathing with clothes or just pants on.
However, what I did in the Metrocity apartment’s toilet, wearing only pants, within those three weeks was rarely discovered. It was done out of necessity, solely for cleaning and showering briefly.
Four of my classmates from Sibu’s Methodist Secondary School Form Six in 1974 also enjoyed bathing in the Melupa using their sarongs during a visit to my longhouse that year. For Ivy Ngui, 69, it was a truly memorable moment, as it was for the other three.
In songs, there are lyrics referencing ‘doors to heaven,’ ‘doors to hell,’ ‘doors to paradise,’ ‘doors to knowledge,’ ‘doors to happenings,’ and other fanciful phrases about doors. Doors symbolize many things, but songs about ‘doors to toilets’ are rare, as toilets without doors are uncommon.
There are other writings about ‘doors to enchanted love,’ ‘doors to defeating enemies,’ ‘doors to useful inventions,’ and more, depicting the endless possibilities doors represent.
Remember, in our rented apartment, there is only one key to unlock or lock nine other doors rented by tenants, as well as two toilets with doors, bringing palpable happiness to the multiple occupants.
DISCLAIMER:
The views expressed here are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of the Sarawak Tribune.
