It doesn’t take a lot to make me happy
Last week, while waiting for the elevator, a Japanese stranger complimented my dressing in nihongo. It was nothing unusual – a long pink blouse, a matching skirt and a matching tudung, but he said it looked nice and bright. His comment in turn, brightened my day. (I later found out that the stranger is in fact one of the faculty’s professors, so I intend to enroll for his course next semester)
Last Thursday, I received a parcel from Malaysia. Ayah and Mak sent me a pair of baju kurung with a matching tudung, a case of pineapple jam tarts, a package of batang buruk and some photos taken on the night I left for Tokyo. The baju kurung and tudung are old ones, not the one I bought for Raya (Mak could not find it), but I’m happy that at least I could wear a baju kurung on Eid. (Yes, I’m a bit conservative and traditional on that). There was no almond london biscuits for me and the jam tarts are mostly lunyai – but I’m happy that I have the chance to still introduce it to my foreign friends. And I'm really happy that the batang buruk are mostly intact.
Last Friday, I received a raya card (I like receiving e-cards, but I just loveeee actual old-fashioned cards) from hubby. Last year, as my fiancé, he sent a pretty ordinary card, so I must say that I did not expect much from him this year. He surprised me by sending a really sweet card with loving words and he even attached a CD with 16 classic raya songs. The CD doesn’t include my favourite raya song, Suasana Hari Raya by Anuar and Ellina, but yes, the card and that CD are currently among my most prized possessions.
Yesterday I went to the local supa to get some stuff in my preparation for Eid. Found eggplants, beans and tofu (for kuah lodeh) all sold at good price (for Tokyo anyway). Found peanuts (for kuah kacang) at 99 shop too. I'm so looking forward to making some Malaysian traditional dishes on Eid. I already got a packet of instant ketupat from a friend who’s going back to celebrate Eid in Malaysia（lucky him!). I already bought 2kg of diced beef at the halal store. Even got some vanilla flavoured custard to make some fruit pudding. Am thinking of hunting for some lengkuas, daun kunyit, lemongrass and kaffir lime leaves at Shin Okubo today and really hope that I could get some, if not all, of the traditional ingredients for rendang, kuah lodeh and kuah kacang. But even if I don’t get them all, I’ll just improvise and make do with what’s available. So long as the dishes turn out ok and the taste still resemble the real McCoys...
Oh yes, it doesn’t take a lot to make me happy.
Monday, October 31, 2005
More baby pics
Got some new photos of Huzaifah. Decided to post them here as a filler of some sort while I think of something to blog about next. Not that there's nothing to blog about - only that I'm either too busy with school or when I'm not that busy, I get writer's block.
Duh!
Duh!
Monday, October 24, 2005
Selling Murtabak & Roti Jala in Tokyo
First, get a lot of those working at the stall to don the national costumes. No need for mascots to go around advertising the stall - wearing different clothing will catch some attention for sure...
Get the most talented penebar to tebar the roti ala Roti Terbang scene from one of the Senario movies. The kawaii Japanese girls keep saying "Sugoi!" - and some even requested to give tebar-menebar a try.. Err, even I don't know how to do it myself, but yes, it was funny seeing one enthusiastic girl in particular, giving it a try while her friend captured the moment on her keitai
Ok, minna san, this is how we fold the murtabak to ensure the gravy remains inside when it's fried
Then we fried them on the large teppan. Oh, there's no QC on our products - hence the different sizes, thickness and tastes (the best ones are with the earlier gravy with less egg) but they are all sold at the same price of 300 yen each
The Japanese were also impressed with the roti jala making process. They never thought that some simple mixture of flour and salt could produce such delicious delicacy. Roti jala was sold at 250 yen for 3 pieces.
The one in charge of wrapping and delivering to the customers must be able to thank the customers and apologize profusely for their long wait in nihon-go. Yes, the murtabak and roti jala comes with curry and chopsticks
Murtabak is not authentic without pickled onions (in Malaysia - we normally use shallots - but shallots are very expensive in Tokyo - so, yes, we compromised on that)
Don't forget the intriguing poster - "Malaysian food - how is it like?"
Pictures are courtesy of Faizly, taken during Tokodai's (Tokyo Institute of Technology) Koudasai last Saturday, 22 October 2005. More pictures could be found here.
And here is the kakak (me!) from Waseda Daigaku who helped out with packaging the curry, seen with the three kohais- Hafiz, Fahmi and Faizly, from Komaba International House.
#####
The business was good on Saturday, but it was great on Sunday. They managed to sell about 160 pieces of murtabak on Saturday and 250 pieces on Sunday - collecting about 50,000 yen on the first day of business and almost doubled it to 90,000 yen on the second day. Apparently, the Japanese didn't mind queuing up under rain or shine to get a taste of the exotic looking stuff.
Personally, I had fun hanging around with Malaysians, and had our iftar with delicious nasi lemak prepared by Yani, Wong's Kelantanese wife.
It felt good to be able to pray at a proper surau of some sort at Tokodai. I met a woman with a 10-month old son who really reminded me of Huzaifah. Not only they share the same initials (Muhammad Azka Hafeez - Muhammad Azmi Huzaifah - both are MAH), even their bald spots are similar. Azka has less hair at certain spot at the back of his head, similar to areas where Huzaifah is still bald too. While normally I only have a chance to look and smile at other babies, this time the mother allowed me to play with her son for a while, and yes, it felt so good holding a baby, especially so when he reminds you so much of your own son.
Another reason to rejoice? I got tempe! I'm planning to cook some simple Raya dishes for me, the 3 kohais and some friends at the dorm. Tempe is of course, an essential ingredient of kuah lodeh. The tempe was sold to me by Azka's mother - she got 3 pieces and advised me to get them from the Indonesian stall which was selling tempe goreng and satay. But when I went there, I was told that uncooked tempe was not for sale - despite witnessing one Indonesian lady carrying 5 pieces of tempe right in front of the stall. So, when I met the kind lady at the surau again during Maghrib, I told her that I did not manage to buy the tempe at the Indonesian stall. She immediately offered to sell her own tempe - but because they cost 350 yen each and I have yet to receive my monthly allowance, I only bought one. That kind lady - not only she gave me great joy by allowing me to play with her son, she even let me returned home with the best purchase of the week - the tempe for kuah lodeh. May Allah bless her!
Get the most talented penebar to tebar the roti ala Roti Terbang scene from one of the Senario movies. The kawaii Japanese girls keep saying "Sugoi!" - and some even requested to give tebar-menebar a try.. Err, even I don't know how to do it myself, but yes, it was funny seeing one enthusiastic girl in particular, giving it a try while her friend captured the moment on her keitai
Ok, minna san, this is how we fold the murtabak to ensure the gravy remains inside when it's fried
Then we fried them on the large teppan. Oh, there's no QC on our products - hence the different sizes, thickness and tastes (the best ones are with the earlier gravy with less egg) but they are all sold at the same price of 300 yen each
The Japanese were also impressed with the roti jala making process. They never thought that some simple mixture of flour and salt could produce such delicious delicacy. Roti jala was sold at 250 yen for 3 pieces.
The one in charge of wrapping and delivering to the customers must be able to thank the customers and apologize profusely for their long wait in nihon-go. Yes, the murtabak and roti jala comes with curry and chopsticks
Murtabak is not authentic without pickled onions (in Malaysia - we normally use shallots - but shallots are very expensive in Tokyo - so, yes, we compromised on that)
Don't forget the intriguing poster - "Malaysian food - how is it like?"
Pictures are courtesy of Faizly, taken during Tokodai's (Tokyo Institute of Technology) Koudasai last Saturday, 22 October 2005. More pictures could be found here.
And here is the kakak (me!) from Waseda Daigaku who helped out with packaging the curry, seen with the three kohais- Hafiz, Fahmi and Faizly, from Komaba International House.
#####
The business was good on Saturday, but it was great on Sunday. They managed to sell about 160 pieces of murtabak on Saturday and 250 pieces on Sunday - collecting about 50,000 yen on the first day of business and almost doubled it to 90,000 yen on the second day. Apparently, the Japanese didn't mind queuing up under rain or shine to get a taste of the exotic looking stuff.
Personally, I had fun hanging around with Malaysians, and had our iftar with delicious nasi lemak prepared by Yani, Wong's Kelantanese wife.
It felt good to be able to pray at a proper surau of some sort at Tokodai. I met a woman with a 10-month old son who really reminded me of Huzaifah. Not only they share the same initials (Muhammad Azka Hafeez - Muhammad Azmi Huzaifah - both are MAH), even their bald spots are similar. Azka has less hair at certain spot at the back of his head, similar to areas where Huzaifah is still bald too. While normally I only have a chance to look and smile at other babies, this time the mother allowed me to play with her son for a while, and yes, it felt so good holding a baby, especially so when he reminds you so much of your own son.
Another reason to rejoice? I got tempe! I'm planning to cook some simple Raya dishes for me, the 3 kohais and some friends at the dorm. Tempe is of course, an essential ingredient of kuah lodeh. The tempe was sold to me by Azka's mother - she got 3 pieces and advised me to get them from the Indonesian stall which was selling tempe goreng and satay. But when I went there, I was told that uncooked tempe was not for sale - despite witnessing one Indonesian lady carrying 5 pieces of tempe right in front of the stall. So, when I met the kind lady at the surau again during Maghrib, I told her that I did not manage to buy the tempe at the Indonesian stall. She immediately offered to sell her own tempe - but because they cost 350 yen each and I have yet to receive my monthly allowance, I only bought one. That kind lady - not only she gave me great joy by allowing me to play with her son, she even let me returned home with the best purchase of the week - the tempe for kuah lodeh. May Allah bless her!
Sunday, October 23, 2005
The week that was
What a week it had been!
I had a taste of my first jishin experience in Tokyo. I’ve heard other peoples’ experiences and even read the manual for earthquake disaster prevention prepared by the Meguro ward office, but there’s nothing like experiencing it myself. The first jishin happened on last Sunday evening. I was cooking in the kitchen when all of a sudden the cupboard behind me shook. Kinda spooky as I was the only person in the kitchen, but that jishin, while it was quite atremor, lasted only a few seconds. The second one happened last Wednesday night. I was in my room, surfing the Net when the whole room started shaking. Honestly speaking, I wasn’t scared, but yes, it was very dizzying. The second one lasted a while longer, probably because the flexibility of the building means that it swayed for sometime after the quake, causing the dizziness.
My fellow Nihongo 1 classmates (yes, we’re all foreign students) exchanged details of our first jishin experiences and most agreed that Lee-san could have won the prize for the most embarrassing jishin moment. She was preparing for her evening shower and in the process of undressing when it happened. Not quite realizing that it was the jishin that shook her door loudly, thinking it was her friend who wanted to enter her room, she yelled in Mandarin “Wait a minute, I’m coming. Don’t shake the door. I’m coming!” She turned red when she realized that it was jishin, that there was no one at the door and not only her door but her whole room was shaking vigorously. But I’ve been told that scientists have been predicting a Big One to happen in the Kanto region (Tokyo region) end of this year and the management of the dorm has already prepared an “emergency pack” for each room consisting of a metallic bag and a torch light. Yes, even the locals who are so used to them worry about jishin too.
Sunday too was my first bazaar experience. There was a bazaar organized by KIND, Komaba International Friendship Club. It was more like a flea market of some sort, selling lots of cheap clothing, practical goods and some souvenirs. Japanese tend to throw out things that are only slightly worn out, and electrical items – electric blanket, fans, rice cooker, microwave oven - are often in excellent working order. The kind people of KIND even gave away a lot of free stuff at the end of the two-hours bazaar, and the sempais who are already used to these bazaars apparently had been waiting patiently just for the free announcement to be made before jumping in to grab sweaters, jackets and dining stuff. I got some good deals at the bazaar - 2 United Colors of Benetton sweaters and a Berkeley cardigan for 250 yen, a set of 4 Pyrex soup bowls for 100 yen, a set of 5 Lancel Paris tea cups for 100 yen and a nice clear glass plate (to serve nasi himpit on Raya) for only 10 yen. And at the end of the day, I even got a nice 2-candles-and-candle-holders set, 2 traditional plastic lacquered trays (often found at Japanese restaurants), a man’s shirt and another United Colors of Benetton sweater for free. Not bad, huh?
Monday was the last day for course registration. In addition to my Nihongo class, I finally decided to take up 3 courses in this autumn term and 2 courses for winter (intensive class – one course is finished in 4 or 5 days). I also found out on Monday, that since I didn’t sit for my entrance exam last month, I will remain a Research student until next September. I’ve been hoping to become a full time student by next semester, so that I could enjoy student discounts. Research students are not entitled to enjoy student discounts, or better known as gakuwari. And those who sit for the entrance exam in April would only be a full time student in September, subject to passing the exam as well as passing the interview to be held after the exam. So it looks like I’ll be spending three years doing my MA after all, a year as a research student and two years as full-time students. But the advantage I have over my JPA-sponsored colleagues is that I can transfer my credits for those courses I take as a research student when I become a full time student, where else they have to do their language course for a year and then only enter their university of choice to do their masters. And finishing my course required credits earlier means I’ll be able to spend more time at home and concentrate on my dissertation later on, insya Allah.
Tuesday, I had one of those weekly grammar test for Nihongo. I haven’t been doing too badly so far, since I’ve learned a little Nihongo back in 2003. But the class, although merely at elementary level, is rather intensive and I do worry about not doing well. After all, despite not being counted towards my degree credit accumulation, Nihongo 1 will still appear on my transcript, so I do hope I can do well in this subject. If all goes well, I even intend to enroll in Nihongo 2 class later on. While I don’t intend to be able to understand and write lots of Kanji characters, I do intend to be able to converse rather fluently in Nihongo. At least to the point of understanding the conversations in those Japanese dorama I like without having to rely too heavily on the subtitles.
Wednesday was the first day I fasted this year. My post childbirth bleeding did not stop yet on that day, but it had already went further than the 40 days allotment for nifas, so I was able to pray and fast. Since I have class at fifth period on Wednesdays which ends at 5.50 p.m., it meant I have to have my iftar (a quick gulp of Aquarius isotonic drink at 5.02 p.m.) in the class and rushed to pray Maghrib at the lockers area before I went back (Isyak is at 6.29 p.m.) I joined Piseth, a Cambodian friend who arrived on the same day I arrived, stays at the same dorm and attends the same school as me, with his group of Cambodian friends on the way back to the eki. Since it was my first day of fasting, I was feeling terribly hungry and they agreed to accompany me to have dinner at Tenya. Since technically I was still in my 44-days-confinement period, I passed up on the delicious tendon (rice with tempura pieces of prawn, squid, fish and vegetables) and ended up having yasai tendon (rice with 6 pieces vegetables tempura) as my first real iftar this year.
Thursday was the day Datin Seri Endon Mahmood , 64, the wife of Pak Lah, Malaysian Prime Minister, passed away in Putrajaya, ending her long battle with breast cancer. It was a sad day and I’m glad to be told that not only RTM but even TV3 paid their tribute by canceling all entertainment shows on their station and broadcasted Quranic recitals all day long. She passed away in the holy month of Ramadhan and on a Thursday, which is believed by many to be a good day, so that might be a good sign of some sort. She has left her own legacy – the comeback of nyonya kebaya and the relived batik industry. While it was never made official, it’s believed that the government officials have to wear batik on the 1st and 15th of every month because she asked Pak Lah to introduce that policy in order to sustain the Malaysian batik industry. May Allah bless her soul and may Allah give Pak Lah the strength to cope with his loss. Al-fatihah
Friday was a busy day. I had no class since it was a day off for Waseda – commemorating its 123rd birthday. In the morning, I went to Naka Meguro to pick up my Alien Registration card at the ward office. So now I don’t have to carry my passport everywhere with me anymore. Then I went to Shin-Okubo to get some halal meat and Thai rice as well as bought a new prepaid calling card. The meat is part of my preparation for Raya as I intend to make some rending. We’ll see how it goes. At about 3.00 p.m., I went out again. This time to Gyotoku in Chiba to have iftar at my friend Daud’s and Sarina’s place. Sarina cooked nasi minyak and ayam masak merah that day, and she even served some cekodok pisang and pudding jagung for iftar. (Eat your heart out Mek Ja, heheheh). I was more than thrilled of course – my first proper iftar meal of the year, complete with delicious Tunisian dates as starter.
After Maghrib, Daud drove us out to some places in Gyotoku. First stop was Seiyu depato, to get some underpants for their 2-1/2 year old daughter Balqis. Sarina took me to the top floor where a 100 yen shop was located – and my, that was one of the best 100 yen shops I’d ever went to. Bought some stuff there and since Seiyu was having a sale, I stopped by at the shoes department. The Admiral pair of sneakers I’m using currently is a bit big – maybe because I bought it when I was pregnant and my feet was a half size bigger than usual. I managed to get myself a new pair of comfortable shoes for less than a 1000 yen, and that’s quite a feat!
We then went to Tanpopo, a shop selling used clothes to hunt for a winter jacket. There were many affordable jackets on sale – but the really good ones were either too expensive (nearly 10,000 yen) or too small for me. I finally settled for a dark blue jacket with three large black buttons in a classic cut that costs less than 500yen. I have to clean it up a bit – but since I don’t intend to bring it back home to Malaysia, I would say that it can serve its purpose well, insya Allah.
We stopped by at Joshin, an electrical goods outlet before we returned to their house. Daud then joined some of his neighbours downstairs, leaving Sarina and I to chat freely since Balqis was already asleep. It feels good having a fellow Malay and Muslim to chat to sometimes. I seldom bump into other Malaysians at school and while I sometimes use Bahasa to converse with Savitri, my Indonesian classmate in Nihongo 1, she’s not a fellow Muslim. Which means, I can’t talk about Ramadhan or Eid or other Islamic-related matters the way I long to. So, yes, it feels good to be able to chat with Sarina or any other fellow Malaysian Muslim female. And since Sarina is about 6 months pregnant with her second child, and I’ve just got a child a little over a month ago, we even have more to talk about. Err, and did I say that we had our chat over a teapot of teh tarik – my first teh tarik treat post childbirth and since my arrival in Japan.
I left Gyotoku at about 10.40 and it was nearly midnight when I arrived home. Got a phonecall from Faizly, one of the three Malaysian kohais staying in the same dorm, informing me about the time to go to Tokodai’s Cultural Fest the following morning. All three kohais – Faizly, Fahmi and Hafiz are engineering students at Tokyo Institute of Technology, better known as Tokodai. Faizly told me about the coming cultural fest, invited me to join them and I’ve said yes.
Saturday was an interesting day and thus deserves a whole blog entry.
I had a taste of my first jishin experience in Tokyo. I’ve heard other peoples’ experiences and even read the manual for earthquake disaster prevention prepared by the Meguro ward office, but there’s nothing like experiencing it myself. The first jishin happened on last Sunday evening. I was cooking in the kitchen when all of a sudden the cupboard behind me shook. Kinda spooky as I was the only person in the kitchen, but that jishin, while it was quite atremor, lasted only a few seconds. The second one happened last Wednesday night. I was in my room, surfing the Net when the whole room started shaking. Honestly speaking, I wasn’t scared, but yes, it was very dizzying. The second one lasted a while longer, probably because the flexibility of the building means that it swayed for sometime after the quake, causing the dizziness.
My fellow Nihongo 1 classmates (yes, we’re all foreign students) exchanged details of our first jishin experiences and most agreed that Lee-san could have won the prize for the most embarrassing jishin moment. She was preparing for her evening shower and in the process of undressing when it happened. Not quite realizing that it was the jishin that shook her door loudly, thinking it was her friend who wanted to enter her room, she yelled in Mandarin “Wait a minute, I’m coming. Don’t shake the door. I’m coming!” She turned red when she realized that it was jishin, that there was no one at the door and not only her door but her whole room was shaking vigorously. But I’ve been told that scientists have been predicting a Big One to happen in the Kanto region (Tokyo region) end of this year and the management of the dorm has already prepared an “emergency pack” for each room consisting of a metallic bag and a torch light. Yes, even the locals who are so used to them worry about jishin too.
Sunday too was my first bazaar experience. There was a bazaar organized by KIND, Komaba International Friendship Club. It was more like a flea market of some sort, selling lots of cheap clothing, practical goods and some souvenirs. Japanese tend to throw out things that are only slightly worn out, and electrical items – electric blanket, fans, rice cooker, microwave oven - are often in excellent working order. The kind people of KIND even gave away a lot of free stuff at the end of the two-hours bazaar, and the sempais who are already used to these bazaars apparently had been waiting patiently just for the free announcement to be made before jumping in to grab sweaters, jackets and dining stuff. I got some good deals at the bazaar - 2 United Colors of Benetton sweaters and a Berkeley cardigan for 250 yen, a set of 4 Pyrex soup bowls for 100 yen, a set of 5 Lancel Paris tea cups for 100 yen and a nice clear glass plate (to serve nasi himpit on Raya) for only 10 yen. And at the end of the day, I even got a nice 2-candles-and-candle-holders set, 2 traditional plastic lacquered trays (often found at Japanese restaurants), a man’s shirt and another United Colors of Benetton sweater for free. Not bad, huh?
Monday was the last day for course registration. In addition to my Nihongo class, I finally decided to take up 3 courses in this autumn term and 2 courses for winter (intensive class – one course is finished in 4 or 5 days). I also found out on Monday, that since I didn’t sit for my entrance exam last month, I will remain a Research student until next September. I’ve been hoping to become a full time student by next semester, so that I could enjoy student discounts. Research students are not entitled to enjoy student discounts, or better known as gakuwari. And those who sit for the entrance exam in April would only be a full time student in September, subject to passing the exam as well as passing the interview to be held after the exam. So it looks like I’ll be spending three years doing my MA after all, a year as a research student and two years as full-time students. But the advantage I have over my JPA-sponsored colleagues is that I can transfer my credits for those courses I take as a research student when I become a full time student, where else they have to do their language course for a year and then only enter their university of choice to do their masters. And finishing my course required credits earlier means I’ll be able to spend more time at home and concentrate on my dissertation later on, insya Allah.
Tuesday, I had one of those weekly grammar test for Nihongo. I haven’t been doing too badly so far, since I’ve learned a little Nihongo back in 2003. But the class, although merely at elementary level, is rather intensive and I do worry about not doing well. After all, despite not being counted towards my degree credit accumulation, Nihongo 1 will still appear on my transcript, so I do hope I can do well in this subject. If all goes well, I even intend to enroll in Nihongo 2 class later on. While I don’t intend to be able to understand and write lots of Kanji characters, I do intend to be able to converse rather fluently in Nihongo. At least to the point of understanding the conversations in those Japanese dorama I like without having to rely too heavily on the subtitles.
Wednesday was the first day I fasted this year. My post childbirth bleeding did not stop yet on that day, but it had already went further than the 40 days allotment for nifas, so I was able to pray and fast. Since I have class at fifth period on Wednesdays which ends at 5.50 p.m., it meant I have to have my iftar (a quick gulp of Aquarius isotonic drink at 5.02 p.m.) in the class and rushed to pray Maghrib at the lockers area before I went back (Isyak is at 6.29 p.m.) I joined Piseth, a Cambodian friend who arrived on the same day I arrived, stays at the same dorm and attends the same school as me, with his group of Cambodian friends on the way back to the eki. Since it was my first day of fasting, I was feeling terribly hungry and they agreed to accompany me to have dinner at Tenya. Since technically I was still in my 44-days-confinement period, I passed up on the delicious tendon (rice with tempura pieces of prawn, squid, fish and vegetables) and ended up having yasai tendon (rice with 6 pieces vegetables tempura) as my first real iftar this year.
Thursday was the day Datin Seri Endon Mahmood , 64, the wife of Pak Lah, Malaysian Prime Minister, passed away in Putrajaya, ending her long battle with breast cancer. It was a sad day and I’m glad to be told that not only RTM but even TV3 paid their tribute by canceling all entertainment shows on their station and broadcasted Quranic recitals all day long. She passed away in the holy month of Ramadhan and on a Thursday, which is believed by many to be a good day, so that might be a good sign of some sort. She has left her own legacy – the comeback of nyonya kebaya and the relived batik industry. While it was never made official, it’s believed that the government officials have to wear batik on the 1st and 15th of every month because she asked Pak Lah to introduce that policy in order to sustain the Malaysian batik industry. May Allah bless her soul and may Allah give Pak Lah the strength to cope with his loss. Al-fatihah
Friday was a busy day. I had no class since it was a day off for Waseda – commemorating its 123rd birthday. In the morning, I went to Naka Meguro to pick up my Alien Registration card at the ward office. So now I don’t have to carry my passport everywhere with me anymore. Then I went to Shin-Okubo to get some halal meat and Thai rice as well as bought a new prepaid calling card. The meat is part of my preparation for Raya as I intend to make some rending. We’ll see how it goes. At about 3.00 p.m., I went out again. This time to Gyotoku in Chiba to have iftar at my friend Daud’s and Sarina’s place. Sarina cooked nasi minyak and ayam masak merah that day, and she even served some cekodok pisang and pudding jagung for iftar. (Eat your heart out Mek Ja, heheheh). I was more than thrilled of course – my first proper iftar meal of the year, complete with delicious Tunisian dates as starter.
After Maghrib, Daud drove us out to some places in Gyotoku. First stop was Seiyu depato, to get some underpants for their 2-1/2 year old daughter Balqis. Sarina took me to the top floor where a 100 yen shop was located – and my, that was one of the best 100 yen shops I’d ever went to. Bought some stuff there and since Seiyu was having a sale, I stopped by at the shoes department. The Admiral pair of sneakers I’m using currently is a bit big – maybe because I bought it when I was pregnant and my feet was a half size bigger than usual. I managed to get myself a new pair of comfortable shoes for less than a 1000 yen, and that’s quite a feat!
We then went to Tanpopo, a shop selling used clothes to hunt for a winter jacket. There were many affordable jackets on sale – but the really good ones were either too expensive (nearly 10,000 yen) or too small for me. I finally settled for a dark blue jacket with three large black buttons in a classic cut that costs less than 500yen. I have to clean it up a bit – but since I don’t intend to bring it back home to Malaysia, I would say that it can serve its purpose well, insya Allah.
We stopped by at Joshin, an electrical goods outlet before we returned to their house. Daud then joined some of his neighbours downstairs, leaving Sarina and I to chat freely since Balqis was already asleep. It feels good having a fellow Malay and Muslim to chat to sometimes. I seldom bump into other Malaysians at school and while I sometimes use Bahasa to converse with Savitri, my Indonesian classmate in Nihongo 1, she’s not a fellow Muslim. Which means, I can’t talk about Ramadhan or Eid or other Islamic-related matters the way I long to. So, yes, it feels good to be able to chat with Sarina or any other fellow Malaysian Muslim female. And since Sarina is about 6 months pregnant with her second child, and I’ve just got a child a little over a month ago, we even have more to talk about. Err, and did I say that we had our chat over a teapot of teh tarik – my first teh tarik treat post childbirth and since my arrival in Japan.
I left Gyotoku at about 10.40 and it was nearly midnight when I arrived home. Got a phonecall from Faizly, one of the three Malaysian kohais staying in the same dorm, informing me about the time to go to Tokodai’s Cultural Fest the following morning. All three kohais – Faizly, Fahmi and Hafiz are engineering students at Tokyo Institute of Technology, better known as Tokodai. Faizly told me about the coming cultural fest, invited me to join them and I’ve said yes.
Saturday was an interesting day and thus deserves a whole blog entry.
Sunday, October 16, 2005
Not another horror birth story
When Ann, a friend who had just gave birth to a beautiful baby boy on 1st Ramadhan, asked me about my birth experience, I asked her to read my blog.
“Why? Are you trying to discourage people from pregnancy?” Ann asked me.
I was flabbergasted. Why would I want to do such thing?
“Well, if I were to blog my own experience, I think my story will discourage people from getting pregnant..My sister certainly thinks so,” Ann added.
I pled her to tell me more.
In what she described as a surreal experience, Ann first thought she was going to have a normal vaginal birth. She started feeling some contraction at 7.00 in the morning, but only went into labour room at about 10.00 a.m. She was given epidural but when she stopped dilating at 6cm after more than 2 hours, and the baby’s heartbeat slowed down during contractions, the doctor decided to do a c-section.
Like a whirlwind they had her signing some papers consenting the surgery and wheeled her to the operating theatre, bumping the cart along the way. She was feeling so very hungry, but of course as it was the first day of the fasting month, she had not eaten anything that morning. And when she pled with the nurses for some water, they said no. Upon reaching the operation theatre, the nurse asked whether or not she had eaten and of course the answer was a weak no and she could not help noticing the gleam on the nurses’ faces. She knew then and there that they had been unhelpful just to make sure that if c-section became necessary, it would be easier to operate on her as she had been fasting all along.
She trembled in the freezing room throughout the operation. They even put her on the laughing gas mask. After about 15 minutes, plop, the 2.6kg baby came out. And then, for the next 1 ½ hours, they started stitching all her internals which she could actually felt and heard, and really bothered her. And then the doctor sprayed something on her wound, so basically she had just one neat line appearing in the end.
“But surely meeting and holding your baby makes all the pain in the world worth it?” I asked further.
“I beg to differ,” Ann said, “I didn’t feel that wondrous feeling everybody told me about. When they gave him for me to hold, I could still feel some abdominal pain. And I was drowsy from all the painkillers and laughing gas, so I was afraid to hold him for long in case I drop him by accident.”
And that, dear all, is a real life experience. Different people go through different kind of birth experiences. While I sincerely hope that Ann’s story would not scare people off pregnancy and giving birth, I certainly hope sharing her story will educate more about the process and the medical interventions involved in labour and giving birth.
After missing that wondrous feel at birth, here’s hoping that Ann and her newfound joy, Ahmad Muizz will share a lot of wonderful years together.
“Why? Are you trying to discourage people from pregnancy?” Ann asked me.
I was flabbergasted. Why would I want to do such thing?
“Well, if I were to blog my own experience, I think my story will discourage people from getting pregnant..My sister certainly thinks so,” Ann added.
I pled her to tell me more.
In what she described as a surreal experience, Ann first thought she was going to have a normal vaginal birth. She started feeling some contraction at 7.00 in the morning, but only went into labour room at about 10.00 a.m. She was given epidural but when she stopped dilating at 6cm after more than 2 hours, and the baby’s heartbeat slowed down during contractions, the doctor decided to do a c-section.
Like a whirlwind they had her signing some papers consenting the surgery and wheeled her to the operating theatre, bumping the cart along the way. She was feeling so very hungry, but of course as it was the first day of the fasting month, she had not eaten anything that morning. And when she pled with the nurses for some water, they said no. Upon reaching the operation theatre, the nurse asked whether or not she had eaten and of course the answer was a weak no and she could not help noticing the gleam on the nurses’ faces. She knew then and there that they had been unhelpful just to make sure that if c-section became necessary, it would be easier to operate on her as she had been fasting all along.
She trembled in the freezing room throughout the operation. They even put her on the laughing gas mask. After about 15 minutes, plop, the 2.6kg baby came out. And then, for the next 1 ½ hours, they started stitching all her internals which she could actually felt and heard, and really bothered her. And then the doctor sprayed something on her wound, so basically she had just one neat line appearing in the end.
“But surely meeting and holding your baby makes all the pain in the world worth it?” I asked further.
“I beg to differ,” Ann said, “I didn’t feel that wondrous feeling everybody told me about. When they gave him for me to hold, I could still feel some abdominal pain. And I was drowsy from all the painkillers and laughing gas, so I was afraid to hold him for long in case I drop him by accident.”
And that, dear all, is a real life experience. Different people go through different kind of birth experiences. While I sincerely hope that Ann’s story would not scare people off pregnancy and giving birth, I certainly hope sharing her story will educate more about the process and the medical interventions involved in labour and giving birth.
After missing that wondrous feel at birth, here’s hoping that Ann and her newfound joy, Ahmad Muizz will share a lot of wonderful years together.
Selipar Jepun
* with apology to Encik Naga and my non-BM readers
Aku. Duduk asrama. Dapur kongsi beramai-ramai. Di tengah-tengah bangunan.
Pagi Khamis. Tergesa-gesa. Keluar bilik. Beg sekolah di bahu. Singgah di dapur. Ambil o-bento. Dimasak malam tadi.
Aku. Berjalan terus. Mahu naik lif. Turun bawah. Keluar asrama. Terus ke eki.
Oit! Oit! Nak ke mana tu?
Aku. Pandang kaki. Berstokin tebal. Berselipar jepun.
Aku. Duduk asrama. Dapur kongsi beramai-ramai. Di tengah-tengah bangunan.
Pagi Khamis. Tergesa-gesa. Keluar bilik. Beg sekolah di bahu. Singgah di dapur. Ambil o-bento. Dimasak malam tadi.
Aku. Berjalan terus. Mahu naik lif. Turun bawah. Keluar asrama. Terus ke eki.
Oit! Oit! Nak ke mana tu?
Aku. Pandang kaki. Berstokin tebal. Berselipar jepun.
Friday, October 14, 2005
5ive
Dear A, here’s the answers to the questions – only that I’ve shortened them to 5ive because 5ive is my favourite number (and it cuts down the thinking time to do this). By the way dear, I think you should start your own blog…
5ive things I plan to do before I die
1) Performing hajj with hubby (he’s already performed it – but I need my mahram…)
2) Settled down in a mortgage-free home, surrounded by loving family and great friends.
3) To be seriously involved in at least one charity group - to promote Islam, women’s rights, children’s rights and would love to get to know some Orang Asli community better.
4) Paragliding/hand gliding/parachuting at least once (Actually I really want to try bungy jumping – but hubby has already stressed that it is not permissible).
5) Competing with hubby in buying lots of books and kitabs and has a large, organised private library.
5ive things I can do
1) Make ‘lemonade’ when life sends me ‘lemons’
2) Listen to other people’s problems and not be judgemental.
3) Climb mountains (maybe not now – but I know I can and I had)
4) Make nice mee bandung and laici kang
5) Sing a few songs quite well (yeah – easy and safe songs like Man Bai’s “Kau Ilhamku”)
5ive celebrity crushes
1) Hizairi Othman
2) Aaron Kwok Fu Sing
3) Kimura Takuya
4) Keanu Reeves
5) Fujiki Nauhito
5ive things that attract me to the opposite sex (traits that I found in my hubby, alhamdulillah)
1. Iman – someone I can look up to as my Imam.
2. Patience and tolerance – someone who can bear with me at all times
3. Honesty – someone I can trust and able to tell me the truth even if truth hurts
4. Shares a lot in common with enough differences – so we can agree on principal things yet still learn new things from each other
5. Inner strength and beauty – the kind that lasts, as I want us to grow old gracefully together.
(Him having beautiful soulful eyes, great figure with the right height and a great sense of humor is a bonus for me, of course, heheheh…)
5ive victims I can tag
1) Dakwanie
2) Kit
3) Zyrin
4) Maknenek
5) Dr Boring
5ive things I plan to do before I die
1) Performing hajj with hubby (he’s already performed it – but I need my mahram…)
2) Settled down in a mortgage-free home, surrounded by loving family and great friends.
3) To be seriously involved in at least one charity group - to promote Islam, women’s rights, children’s rights and would love to get to know some Orang Asli community better.
4) Paragliding/hand gliding/parachuting at least once (Actually I really want to try bungy jumping – but hubby has already stressed that it is not permissible).
5) Competing with hubby in buying lots of books and kitabs and has a large, organised private library.
5ive things I can do
1) Make ‘lemonade’ when life sends me ‘lemons’
2) Listen to other people’s problems and not be judgemental.
3) Climb mountains (maybe not now – but I know I can and I had)
4) Make nice mee bandung and laici kang
5) Sing a few songs quite well (yeah – easy and safe songs like Man Bai’s “Kau Ilhamku”)
5ive celebrity crushes
1) Hizairi Othman
2) Aaron Kwok Fu Sing
3) Kimura Takuya
4) Keanu Reeves
5) Fujiki Nauhito
5ive things that attract me to the opposite sex (traits that I found in my hubby, alhamdulillah)
1. Iman – someone I can look up to as my Imam.
2. Patience and tolerance – someone who can bear with me at all times
3. Honesty – someone I can trust and able to tell me the truth even if truth hurts
4. Shares a lot in common with enough differences – so we can agree on principal things yet still learn new things from each other
5. Inner strength and beauty – the kind that lasts, as I want us to grow old gracefully together.
(Him having beautiful soulful eyes, great figure with the right height and a great sense of humor is a bonus for me, of course, heheheh…)
5ive victims I can tag
1) Dakwanie
2) Kit
3) Zyrin
4) Maknenek
5) Dr Boring
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
The plastic and slapstick variety shows
I seriously envy Masni, who’s now in Cardiff for getting good shows to watch on TV. We would be chatting and she’ll let me know that she’s watching Super Nanny or How Clean Is Your House or Under the Hammer or some other entertaining-yet-educating reality tv shows lucky her gets to watch on free-to-air TV in UK. Not that I’m a big fan of the idiot box, but well, they sure sound a lot more interesting than those variety shows we get daily in Japan.
What kind of variety show? Oh, they have variety of variety shows – cooking variety shows, singing variety shows, multi-talents variety shows, variety shows with lots of interviews and the list goes on and on and on. And here – the show business is borderless, so you’ll see the hosts and entertainers, with a quick fix on costumes and make-ups, appearing on shows on different networks all the time.
I was caught watching one while having dinner one night by Amy, who lives across the hall. “Oh, you are not really watching this IQ reducing stuff, right?” Yes, I don’t understand most of what’s being said – I watched it because I wanted to watch something while I was eating and that’s all. And there wasn’t anything else better to watch.
Seriously – Amy have asked me to swear off Japanese variety shows because of their IQ reducing content. There’s nothing substantial to them, the acting too plastic and they are almost always filled with lots of slapstick. While one doesn’t have to understand what is being said to be able to laugh at slapstick jokes, a heavy dose of it could be rather errr… nauseating. But I guess, at the end of the day, watching some Japanese variety shows while having dinner could not be as damaging as info-mania…
Still, I envy Masni and all of you who get to enjoy good TV shows. I miss the AXN channel. I miss being able to watch lots of English programs. Many English programs and movies are translated to Japanese when they are shown here. But lest I forget, I must be thankful for small things – so I’m thankful that at least someone in NHK has sense enough to air Desperate Housewives in English on BS-2 every Wednesday nights…
What kind of variety show? Oh, they have variety of variety shows – cooking variety shows, singing variety shows, multi-talents variety shows, variety shows with lots of interviews and the list goes on and on and on. And here – the show business is borderless, so you’ll see the hosts and entertainers, with a quick fix on costumes and make-ups, appearing on shows on different networks all the time.
I was caught watching one while having dinner one night by Amy, who lives across the hall. “Oh, you are not really watching this IQ reducing stuff, right?” Yes, I don’t understand most of what’s being said – I watched it because I wanted to watch something while I was eating and that’s all. And there wasn’t anything else better to watch.
Seriously – Amy have asked me to swear off Japanese variety shows because of their IQ reducing content. There’s nothing substantial to them, the acting too plastic and they are almost always filled with lots of slapstick. While one doesn’t have to understand what is being said to be able to laugh at slapstick jokes, a heavy dose of it could be rather errr… nauseating. But I guess, at the end of the day, watching some Japanese variety shows while having dinner could not be as damaging as info-mania…
Still, I envy Masni and all of you who get to enjoy good TV shows. I miss the AXN channel. I miss being able to watch lots of English programs. Many English programs and movies are translated to Japanese when they are shown here. But lest I forget, I must be thankful for small things – so I’m thankful that at least someone in NHK has sense enough to air Desperate Housewives in English on BS-2 every Wednesday nights…
Monday, October 10, 2005
Five reasons...
why I have to put a msjbox on my blog - as I was told by dakwanie, in her words:
"1- sajer sesuka
2- sajer nak bagi i test my invite power
3- kot2 YM dah kena ban esok bley pakai chat je
4- macam meriah jer ada msjbox
5- berapa org jer ada msjbox "
Yeah, so I now have 30 invites for msjbox. (I have like 100 invites for Gmail, but I think everyone has gotten one Gmail account already)
Any taker?
"1- sajer sesuka
2- sajer nak bagi i test my invite power
3- kot2 YM dah kena ban esok bley pakai chat je
4- macam meriah jer ada msjbox
5- berapa org jer ada msjbox "
Yeah, so I now have 30 invites for msjbox. (I have like 100 invites for Gmail, but I think everyone has gotten one Gmail account already)
Any taker?
The webcam is just a message away
It’s raining outside as I write this. But no, I don’t feel gloomy at all despite the graying skies and the drizzle that has been going on since this morning. I’m feeling as sunshiny as yesterday when Kimi Raikonnen won the dramatic race in Suzuka – and yes, while I do admire Kimi’s driving skills, it’s not his win that makes me feel this way.
I got to see my baby on live webcam telecast.
And boy - it sure feels good. Alhamdulillah...
Now, I don’t have to imagine how he looks like because I know how he looks like. I even asked Mak to move him around so I get to see the bald patches among newly grown hair on his head. Oh yes, he's grown. Masya Allah - I know he's my own son and mothers tend to think that their children are cute - but yes, I think he's just lovely, lovely, lovely. He’s a bit inactive today, according to Mak, because his temperature is a bit high. Mak is taking him to see a specialist tomorrow for some routine check-up, so Mak reassured me that she’ll check on everything – his temperature, recommended alternative baby formula, recommended medication for his rashes and all. While I absorb all the information, I took pleasure from watching my son sleeping soundly in his Mbah’s lap, touching the PC's screen, wishing I could reach out and touch him for real.
Anyway, turns out I don’t have to withhold any calls to hubby after all (the thought of having some sort of ‘revenge’ was kinda sweet despite us being in the forgiving month of Ramadhan, heheheh). And I guess I owe my brother Abang that anime cell puncher or whatever that he’s asked for, because he was the one who got the webcam installed at my uncle’s place.
Now, I’m just a message away from seeing my son on the webcam everytime my cousin is online.
#####
By the way, here are some pictures of my baby alongside his ‘uncle’, baby Ahmad Umar Al-Khattab. My hubby’s then 65-year old uncle got married to one tough lawyer a day before our wedding last year. My new aunt (who’s not that much older than me) and I discovered our pregnancy at around the same time. We also learned about us getting our respective scholarship at about the same time. She got the Chevening scholarship to do her MA degree in London, while I got my Mambusho scholarship to do my MA in Tokyo. Our sons were born a week apart from each other, Umar ahead of Huzaifah. Both babies are now in Malaysia under the care of their respective maternal grandmother while their parents are miles away. (Umar’s parents are both in London now, they left 28 days after he was born.)
I got to see my baby on live webcam telecast.
And boy - it sure feels good. Alhamdulillah...
Now, I don’t have to imagine how he looks like because I know how he looks like. I even asked Mak to move him around so I get to see the bald patches among newly grown hair on his head. Oh yes, he's grown. Masya Allah - I know he's my own son and mothers tend to think that their children are cute - but yes, I think he's just lovely, lovely, lovely. He’s a bit inactive today, according to Mak, because his temperature is a bit high. Mak is taking him to see a specialist tomorrow for some routine check-up, so Mak reassured me that she’ll check on everything – his temperature, recommended alternative baby formula, recommended medication for his rashes and all. While I absorb all the information, I took pleasure from watching my son sleeping soundly in his Mbah’s lap, touching the PC's screen, wishing I could reach out and touch him for real.
Anyway, turns out I don’t have to withhold any calls to hubby after all (the thought of having some sort of ‘revenge’ was kinda sweet despite us being in the forgiving month of Ramadhan, heheheh). And I guess I owe my brother Abang that anime cell puncher or whatever that he’s asked for, because he was the one who got the webcam installed at my uncle’s place.
Now, I’m just a message away from seeing my son on the webcam everytime my cousin is online.
#####
By the way, here are some pictures of my baby alongside his ‘uncle’, baby Ahmad Umar Al-Khattab. My hubby’s then 65-year old uncle got married to one tough lawyer a day before our wedding last year. My new aunt (who’s not that much older than me) and I discovered our pregnancy at around the same time. We also learned about us getting our respective scholarship at about the same time. She got the Chevening scholarship to do her MA degree in London, while I got my Mambusho scholarship to do my MA in Tokyo. Our sons were born a week apart from each other, Umar ahead of Huzaifah. Both babies are now in Malaysia under the care of their respective maternal grandmother while their parents are miles away. (Umar’s parents are both in London now, they left 28 days after he was born.)
Sunday, October 09, 2005
Missing
My son turned a month old yesterday. I still haven’t get to see his latest photo. Hubby, who was back home for the weekend told me that he could not find the cable to upload the new photos on the PC, so he sent me some old photos instead, taken a few days after I left KL.
I asked him when he would install the webcam as promised. Since it took ages for my brother to do it, I’d already asked my husband beforehand to buy the webcam and get it installed at my uncle’s place in Putrajaya. He told me instead that he did not manage to do it because it was already late when he arrived at Putrajaya the day before and when I called him, he was already on his way back to Seremban, from where he would be returning to Terengganu.
Perhaps if he had stopped at that, I would still be rational about it. But he went on to add, “Huzaifah hasn’t change that much, you know…”
“Yeah right, Mak told me that he had put on 1.3. kg – that’s a third of his weight at birth. His hair is growing. And Mak Tam told me that he’s getting chubbier. Yeah, right, it’s easy for you to say that he hasn’t change that much. You get to see him every other week. I haven’t seen him at all since I left. And babies grow so fast. So, don’t tell me that he hasn’t change that much. You can’t imagine what it’s like for me trying to imagine how our son looks like now. You can’t imagine how saddening to learn that he wants Mak Tam’s towel as his safety blanket rather than the batik sarong I left. You can’t imagine how difficult for me seeing other mothers holding and cuddling their babies and I don’t even know what my own child look like currently...” and although I’m not normally a hypersensitive person, I broke down there and then.
It’s not like I’m normally a demanding person – but it has already been 3 long weeks. My brother promised to get it installed as soon as possible when he sent me off at the airport – but I’m yet to see it. Now, hubby has already promised me that he would get the webcam, but he’s not sure when he will be back again because it’s Ramadhan after all and like most people, he doesn’t like traveling during Ramadhan. He’s thinking of returning home for Eid, but I doubt I can wait that long before seeing baby again.
Maybe I should just stop making calls to him until he get the webcam installed, just so he could have a taste of what it’s like missing someone so much…
#####
Yesterday was the birthday of a friend, mentor and favourite writer, Hizairi Othman. He’d gone missing for over 4 years now, since March 2001. I wonder how his mother is coping. It must be terrible for her – deep in her heart, she believes that he’s still alive, yet she’s unsure of the truth. His case is still filed under Unsolved Cases in Kajang’s Police Headquarters. The police used to invite a member of the family to identify unidentified bodies found. The family has tried all possible methods and used all their connections to try to find and locate him to no avail. They could only pray for his safety and safe return if he’s still alive. And they also pray that if he’s no longer alive, at least let them find the body so that a proper funeral could be held.
I haven’t seen my son for 3 weeks and it feels like ages.
I can’t imagine what it must be like for Hizairi’s mother, siblings or his fiancée.
My thoughts and prayers are with them always.
I asked him when he would install the webcam as promised. Since it took ages for my brother to do it, I’d already asked my husband beforehand to buy the webcam and get it installed at my uncle’s place in Putrajaya. He told me instead that he did not manage to do it because it was already late when he arrived at Putrajaya the day before and when I called him, he was already on his way back to Seremban, from where he would be returning to Terengganu.
Perhaps if he had stopped at that, I would still be rational about it. But he went on to add, “Huzaifah hasn’t change that much, you know…”
“Yeah right, Mak told me that he had put on 1.3. kg – that’s a third of his weight at birth. His hair is growing. And Mak Tam told me that he’s getting chubbier. Yeah, right, it’s easy for you to say that he hasn’t change that much. You get to see him every other week. I haven’t seen him at all since I left. And babies grow so fast. So, don’t tell me that he hasn’t change that much. You can’t imagine what it’s like for me trying to imagine how our son looks like now. You can’t imagine how saddening to learn that he wants Mak Tam’s towel as his safety blanket rather than the batik sarong I left. You can’t imagine how difficult for me seeing other mothers holding and cuddling their babies and I don’t even know what my own child look like currently...” and although I’m not normally a hypersensitive person, I broke down there and then.
It’s not like I’m normally a demanding person – but it has already been 3 long weeks. My brother promised to get it installed as soon as possible when he sent me off at the airport – but I’m yet to see it. Now, hubby has already promised me that he would get the webcam, but he’s not sure when he will be back again because it’s Ramadhan after all and like most people, he doesn’t like traveling during Ramadhan. He’s thinking of returning home for Eid, but I doubt I can wait that long before seeing baby again.
Maybe I should just stop making calls to him until he get the webcam installed, just so he could have a taste of what it’s like missing someone so much…
#####
Yesterday was the birthday of a friend, mentor and favourite writer, Hizairi Othman. He’d gone missing for over 4 years now, since March 2001. I wonder how his mother is coping. It must be terrible for her – deep in her heart, she believes that he’s still alive, yet she’s unsure of the truth. His case is still filed under Unsolved Cases in Kajang’s Police Headquarters. The police used to invite a member of the family to identify unidentified bodies found. The family has tried all possible methods and used all their connections to try to find and locate him to no avail. They could only pray for his safety and safe return if he’s still alive. And they also pray that if he’s no longer alive, at least let them find the body so that a proper funeral could be held.
I haven’t seen my son for 3 weeks and it feels like ages.
I can’t imagine what it must be like for Hizairi’s mother, siblings or his fiancée.
My thoughts and prayers are with them always.
Thursday, October 06, 2005
Ramadhan Mubarak
It’s already the second day of Ramadhan. But somehow I could not quite feel the magic of this holy month yet. Probably because I’m still in my nifas (what’s nifas in English? I have some trouble explaining to some friends why I haven’t start fasting because I don’t know what nifas is in English), probably because I see people eating everywhere all the time here in Tokyo, probably because there’s no extra traffic flow after 5.00 p.m. to which I’m used to back in KL during Ramadhan (but then again, people are having their iftar at 5.20 p.m. here) and probably because class goes on as usual. Yesterday I actually reminded a colleague to have his iftar during class as he totally forgot that it was already sunset.
I met a probable neighbour-to-be yesterday. I’m now staying in a dorm but in order to bring my family to Tokyo, I have to rent an apartment. I already found a suitable apartment that meets my budget and basic requirements, but I have to wait until early next year before it’s vacated. The apartment is now rented by a Malaysian sempai (senior student) who is going back in March or April next year.
His neighbour is another Malaysian sempai who happens to be doing the same course I’m doing in Waseda Daigaku. We met by chance after class ended and were introduced by a colleague whose house is not far from his. I chatted with my possible neighbour-to-be for a while and then tried to take leave.
It was drizzling and I did not bring an umbrella with me, so he offered a used-100 yen- transparent-plastic umbrella for me to use. “Weh, mana boleh kena hujan aar dalam pantang ni”, he reproached me as I was about to leave our Faculty building. Since it was already dark, and the road a bit quiet, he offered to accompany me to the station. Sensing his sincerity, I gladly allowed him to accompany me.
We talked about this and that and found out that we had quite similar experience. He first left for Tokyo when his first baby was just 18 days old. He’d just returned to Tokyo after spending almost a month of his summer break in Malaysia and still in the process of getting over missing his now 7-month-old son. Having went through the experience of leaving a baby so soon after he was born, he could understand my current situation and feelings better than most.
I ended up following him for his first proper iftar at Restoran Mahathir in Shino-kubo. He offered to buy me dinner, as a sempai as well as possible neighbour-to-be and comrade-in-arms, as we exchanged more stories. Somehow we clicked almost immediately and it was easy talking to each other, almost as if we have known each other for years. Among others, we found out that we were both born in May and married to someone who was born in March. (We came to the untested conclusion that perhaps only strongheaded people born in May with supporting partners born in March would have done crazy things like we did – and yes it was agreed that I was ‘crazier’ than him.)
So, I had a really nice meal of curry, sambal ikan kembong and sayur kailan. Not too bad for the first iftar of Ramadhan, huh? Especially when they are all paid for by someone else, heheheh.
Anyway – here’s wishing all of you a blessed, peaceful and fruitful Ramadhan.
Selamat berpesta ibadah!
I met a probable neighbour-to-be yesterday. I’m now staying in a dorm but in order to bring my family to Tokyo, I have to rent an apartment. I already found a suitable apartment that meets my budget and basic requirements, but I have to wait until early next year before it’s vacated. The apartment is now rented by a Malaysian sempai (senior student) who is going back in March or April next year.
His neighbour is another Malaysian sempai who happens to be doing the same course I’m doing in Waseda Daigaku. We met by chance after class ended and were introduced by a colleague whose house is not far from his. I chatted with my possible neighbour-to-be for a while and then tried to take leave.
It was drizzling and I did not bring an umbrella with me, so he offered a used-100 yen- transparent-plastic umbrella for me to use. “Weh, mana boleh kena hujan aar dalam pantang ni”, he reproached me as I was about to leave our Faculty building. Since it was already dark, and the road a bit quiet, he offered to accompany me to the station. Sensing his sincerity, I gladly allowed him to accompany me.
We talked about this and that and found out that we had quite similar experience. He first left for Tokyo when his first baby was just 18 days old. He’d just returned to Tokyo after spending almost a month of his summer break in Malaysia and still in the process of getting over missing his now 7-month-old son. Having went through the experience of leaving a baby so soon after he was born, he could understand my current situation and feelings better than most.
I ended up following him for his first proper iftar at Restoran Mahathir in Shino-kubo. He offered to buy me dinner, as a sempai as well as possible neighbour-to-be and comrade-in-arms, as we exchanged more stories. Somehow we clicked almost immediately and it was easy talking to each other, almost as if we have known each other for years. Among others, we found out that we were both born in May and married to someone who was born in March. (We came to the untested conclusion that perhaps only strongheaded people born in May with supporting partners born in March would have done crazy things like we did – and yes it was agreed that I was ‘crazier’ than him.)
So, I had a really nice meal of curry, sambal ikan kembong and sayur kailan. Not too bad for the first iftar of Ramadhan, huh? Especially when they are all paid for by someone else, heheheh.
Anyway – here’s wishing all of you a blessed, peaceful and fruitful Ramadhan.
Selamat berpesta ibadah!
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Things One Learns After Two Weeks in Japan
... from the perspective of a Malaysian Muslim, that is...
McDonald's is a big No-No. One can:t even buy fries and Filet-O-Fish because they are all fried using lard. And darn - the fries smell so good... I know because the eki (train station) nearby my dorm is located right in front of one McDonald's outlet.
No, you can't buy fries or burgers at KFC or Mos Burger too. Something about the shortening used in their bread or the oil used or the mixing of everything.
A lot of Yoshinoya are open 24/7, but it goes without saying that I can't eat there.
But Tenya or Saizeriya are okay. There are almost always one or two outlets of Tenya or Saizeriya in major areas, and most sempai (seniors) welcome the newcomers by giving a treat for the newcomers at either Tenya or Saizeriya. Or if one gets lucky like me - (I got a treat each at) both.
If you have lots of money, don't fret about needing stuff at anytime of the day. There are plenty of konbinis (convenience stores) open 24/7 everywhere. From my last eki to daigaku (university), I pass by almost 10 konbinis. There's sunKus, Lawson, Family Mart, ampm, Daily Yamazaki and the familiar old 'sebeng erebeng' (7 Eleven)
But if you don't have that much money, shop at 100 yen Store or 99 Shop. After all, why waste money to buy an umbrella for 500 yen in a konbini when a slightly smaller version could be purchased at the 100 yen store? Besides, nowadays many 99 Shop are also open 24/7.
One does not need to know a lot of Japanese words to shop. Just pile up what we need and then pay accordingly. Should we need to ask for something out of reach, pointing to that thing and saying "Sore, onegai shimasu" would suffice.
Take the English version of Tokyo map everywhere. The one with train and subway eki names. It really is helpful for those who can't read kanji characters but still need to know how much to pay for the ticket.
Take the English version of the daigaku map everywhere. One never know when one just might need it - especially during the first month and one's still trying to find her ways here and there.
Bring a Nihon-go fluent companion who can also writes kanji character well when one needs to deal with the public office (Alien registration, National Health insurance, Family registration, etc) or open a bank account.
Don't take any 9.00 o'clock class if one can help it (but alas in my case, I have no choice) because that means one has to take early trains. The trains are packed to the max in early morning that the phrase `packed line a can of sardine' just take a whole new meaning. And yes - the case is often worse than what one used to endure in a KL bas mini.
The Halal Food Store is a place to get halal meat and stuff you seldom find elsewhere like Kicap Tamin, Indomie instant food, Indofood instant seasoning, Roti Pratha and Thai rice. Thai rice usually suits the Malaysians' taste buds better than their Japanese counterparts and yes - they cost a whole lot cheaper too (1000 yen per 5kg as against 2000 yen per 5kg for Japanese rice)
The Halal Food store could also be where one gets to meet and make friends with other Malaysians living in the same area.
The Halal Food store is also the best place to buy value-for-money international prepaid calling cards as opposed those cards sold in konbini. KDDI Super International Calling Card sold in konbinis for 1000 yen for example, allow only 23 minutes talk time for calls made to Malaysia. Tokyo No 1 Calling Card sold in the Halal Food Store for 2100 yen allows 5 hours talk time.
Many bread sold at the konbinis could not be eaten due to the animal product contained in the shortening. Depending on who you believe, some sempai will advise to go for Yamazaki pan and some will advise you to buy it from a bakery which use vegetable oil and plant-based shortening. But most seem to agree that Pasco products are a big No-No.
The display and smell emitting from the many bakeries are splendid. Even a simple Green Farm kiosk selling waffles at Shibuya eki could outdo any La Manila or Secret Recipe outlet in KL. But alas, one could never be too sure of the shortening used - so, just see, no touch.
Memorising a few important kanji characters like buta (pig/pork), o-sake and mirin could be beneficial.
Having a paper and pen handy and ability to draw well could be beneficial should the need arise to communicate something to non-English speaking Japanese.
McDonald's is a big No-No. One can:t even buy fries and Filet-O-Fish because they are all fried using lard. And darn - the fries smell so good... I know because the eki (train station) nearby my dorm is located right in front of one McDonald's outlet.
No, you can't buy fries or burgers at KFC or Mos Burger too. Something about the shortening used in their bread or the oil used or the mixing of everything.
A lot of Yoshinoya are open 24/7, but it goes without saying that I can't eat there.
But Tenya or Saizeriya are okay. There are almost always one or two outlets of Tenya or Saizeriya in major areas, and most sempai (seniors) welcome the newcomers by giving a treat for the newcomers at either Tenya or Saizeriya. Or if one gets lucky like me - (I got a treat each at) both.
If you have lots of money, don't fret about needing stuff at anytime of the day. There are plenty of konbinis (convenience stores) open 24/7 everywhere. From my last eki to daigaku (university), I pass by almost 10 konbinis. There's sunKus, Lawson, Family Mart, ampm, Daily Yamazaki and the familiar old 'sebeng erebeng' (7 Eleven)
But if you don't have that much money, shop at 100 yen Store or 99 Shop. After all, why waste money to buy an umbrella for 500 yen in a konbini when a slightly smaller version could be purchased at the 100 yen store? Besides, nowadays many 99 Shop are also open 24/7.
One does not need to know a lot of Japanese words to shop. Just pile up what we need and then pay accordingly. Should we need to ask for something out of reach, pointing to that thing and saying "Sore, onegai shimasu" would suffice.
Take the English version of Tokyo map everywhere. The one with train and subway eki names. It really is helpful for those who can't read kanji characters but still need to know how much to pay for the ticket.
Take the English version of the daigaku map everywhere. One never know when one just might need it - especially during the first month and one's still trying to find her ways here and there.
Bring a Nihon-go fluent companion who can also writes kanji character well when one needs to deal with the public office (Alien registration, National Health insurance, Family registration, etc) or open a bank account.
Don't take any 9.00 o'clock class if one can help it (but alas in my case, I have no choice) because that means one has to take early trains. The trains are packed to the max in early morning that the phrase `packed line a can of sardine' just take a whole new meaning. And yes - the case is often worse than what one used to endure in a KL bas mini.
The Halal Food Store is a place to get halal meat and stuff you seldom find elsewhere like Kicap Tamin, Indomie instant food, Indofood instant seasoning, Roti Pratha and Thai rice. Thai rice usually suits the Malaysians' taste buds better than their Japanese counterparts and yes - they cost a whole lot cheaper too (1000 yen per 5kg as against 2000 yen per 5kg for Japanese rice)
The Halal Food store could also be where one gets to meet and make friends with other Malaysians living in the same area.
The Halal Food store is also the best place to buy value-for-money international prepaid calling cards as opposed those cards sold in konbini. KDDI Super International Calling Card sold in konbinis for 1000 yen for example, allow only 23 minutes talk time for calls made to Malaysia. Tokyo No 1 Calling Card sold in the Halal Food Store for 2100 yen allows 5 hours talk time.
Many bread sold at the konbinis could not be eaten due to the animal product contained in the shortening. Depending on who you believe, some sempai will advise to go for Yamazaki pan and some will advise you to buy it from a bakery which use vegetable oil and plant-based shortening. But most seem to agree that Pasco products are a big No-No.
The display and smell emitting from the many bakeries are splendid. Even a simple Green Farm kiosk selling waffles at Shibuya eki could outdo any La Manila or Secret Recipe outlet in KL. But alas, one could never be too sure of the shortening used - so, just see, no touch.
Memorising a few important kanji characters like buta (pig/pork), o-sake and mirin could be beneficial.
Having a paper and pen handy and ability to draw well could be beneficial should the need arise to communicate something to non-English speaking Japanese.
Sunday, October 02, 2005
Not everybody has the choice to be where they really want to be
Not everybody has the choice to be where they really want to be.
Because if I really have that choice, I would rather be at home with my baby, nursing him, kissing him, never tired of his wonderful smell and taking delight in everything he does. I just called Mak and Huzaifah was still awake, so I was able to hear him making some noises and Mak even let me ‘talk’ to him for a while. I miss him so much so that just hearing his voice was like a great big gift after almost a fortnight of not seeing him. Mak reassured me that he’s okay, and he’ll have his first month shot this coming Thursday. Mak promised she’ll brief me on the updates - of his increased weight, of his increased intake of milk, of his current favourite activities and what nots. Mak said for the time being he like being held so much so that Mak could only leave him on his mattress after he’s already fall asleep. If I really have a choice, I would rather be at home and spend all day long just holding him, nursing him and comfort him with my presence and warmth.
If I really have a choice, I would rather sleep and lie around and enjoy doing nothing for two months (apart from taking care of the baby). Most Malay female in their pantang are not even allowed to walk up and down the stairs too much. Normally somebody will cook and manage the household for them and they only have to lie down and enjoy the baby. Not me though, since I have to attend classes every day – 13 classes weekly for Japanese Language elementary course and a couple of classes for my MA. My hostel is quite far from the university. I have to change 2 trains every morning and walk for 25 minutes from the last stop to the university. Yes, I have to go up and down several stairs daily. And because I’m still wearing the barut and the bengkung, and because I’m supposed to walk in slow and small steps, I have to get ready earlier than most colleagues who attend the same 9.00 o’clock class every morning. Not to mention that I have to allow time to take all the vitamin and supplementary food after every meal. And yes, it goes without saying that I have to do all the cooking, the washing and the housekeeping (roomkeeping is more like it – after all, I just got a single room with own bath & toilet).
If I really have a choice, I would rather see my husband every other week, and look forward to spending some part of the Ramadhan together. It would be great to have him checking on my Quran recitation and to have him pampering me a bit and I know he wouldn’t mind getting whatever I ask for iftar if it could be found at the nearby Pasar Ramadhan. I would rather look forward to spending our first Eidul Fitri as husband and wife together, maybe even wear matching outfits on the big day and dress our baby in the same colour. (I’ve forgotten to pack even a single pair of baju kurung , so no baju raya for me this year). If I really have a choice, I would rather lie down next to him and listening to him whispering our hopes and our doa to our baby. And I would rather cuddle up to him after baby is asleep or talk to him on the phone on daily basis than just being able to hear his voice occasionally from a long distant.
But not everybody has a real choice to be where they really want to be.
And I just have to deal with that.
Because if I really have that choice, I would rather be at home with my baby, nursing him, kissing him, never tired of his wonderful smell and taking delight in everything he does. I just called Mak and Huzaifah was still awake, so I was able to hear him making some noises and Mak even let me ‘talk’ to him for a while. I miss him so much so that just hearing his voice was like a great big gift after almost a fortnight of not seeing him. Mak reassured me that he’s okay, and he’ll have his first month shot this coming Thursday. Mak promised she’ll brief me on the updates - of his increased weight, of his increased intake of milk, of his current favourite activities and what nots. Mak said for the time being he like being held so much so that Mak could only leave him on his mattress after he’s already fall asleep. If I really have a choice, I would rather be at home and spend all day long just holding him, nursing him and comfort him with my presence and warmth.
If I really have a choice, I would rather sleep and lie around and enjoy doing nothing for two months (apart from taking care of the baby). Most Malay female in their pantang are not even allowed to walk up and down the stairs too much. Normally somebody will cook and manage the household for them and they only have to lie down and enjoy the baby. Not me though, since I have to attend classes every day – 13 classes weekly for Japanese Language elementary course and a couple of classes for my MA. My hostel is quite far from the university. I have to change 2 trains every morning and walk for 25 minutes from the last stop to the university. Yes, I have to go up and down several stairs daily. And because I’m still wearing the barut and the bengkung, and because I’m supposed to walk in slow and small steps, I have to get ready earlier than most colleagues who attend the same 9.00 o’clock class every morning. Not to mention that I have to allow time to take all the vitamin and supplementary food after every meal. And yes, it goes without saying that I have to do all the cooking, the washing and the housekeeping (roomkeeping is more like it – after all, I just got a single room with own bath & toilet).
If I really have a choice, I would rather see my husband every other week, and look forward to spending some part of the Ramadhan together. It would be great to have him checking on my Quran recitation and to have him pampering me a bit and I know he wouldn’t mind getting whatever I ask for iftar if it could be found at the nearby Pasar Ramadhan. I would rather look forward to spending our first Eidul Fitri as husband and wife together, maybe even wear matching outfits on the big day and dress our baby in the same colour. (I’ve forgotten to pack even a single pair of baju kurung , so no baju raya for me this year). If I really have a choice, I would rather lie down next to him and listening to him whispering our hopes and our doa to our baby. And I would rather cuddle up to him after baby is asleep or talk to him on the phone on daily basis than just being able to hear his voice occasionally from a long distant.
But not everybody has a real choice to be where they really want to be.
And I just have to deal with that.
My first birth experience
A friend recommended sharing my birth experience. I guess every woman’s experience of birth is unique, but perhaps as a lesson for inexperienced mothers-to-be, I hope something can be learned from my experience. So guys, sorry if this entry is not quite up to your mmm… liking.
I started staining 2 nights before I gave birth. But there was no accompanying pain. I’d experienced mild contractions before, so I was sure that it wasn’t time yet. However, the next day my auntie (I was staying at Putrajaya, at my uncle’s place) insisted on having a doctor to take a look at it, well “just in case you have an opening and you do not realize it”. We went to the hospital where I was told that the opening was so small that only the baby’s hair could pass through. The doctor predicted that I would give birth after maybe 3 to 5 days.
The doctor’s prediction was far from true. That very night, I began feeling some contractions. Making the most of my before “pantang” time, I enjoyed a game of Scrabble with my cousins while stuffing myself with a quarter tub of La Cremeria ice-cream (Kakaq – I fell in love with La Cremeria ice cream after you introduced it to me). The contractions became stronger sometime in early morning and by 8.00 a.m., I noticed a steady flow of longer contractions which occurred about every 5 minutes. However, wanting to believe that it could be mere false alarm because somehow I was hoping that baby would wait for the father to come home, (and hubby was supposed to return that day) I waited and the contractions seemed to lessen a bit by 9.00 a.m. Nevertheless, by 10.00 a.m., I knew that I had to go to the hospital and asked Ayah (who, together with Mak, had been around since the previous evening after I returned from the hospital for the check-up) to send me there.
Ayah took a long time getting ready – it was 11.00 a.m. when we actually made our move. By then, I was really in pain that I simply refused to sit down when asked to do so by the nurse. I found walking able to lessen the pain. The nurse on duty took my blood pressure reading, checked my weight, even asked me to lie down to get a CTG reading (to check the baby’s heartbeat). Luckily, it wasn’t long when the doctor came to check on me. She checked my opening and told me that I was already 4cm dilated. Then she got my water broken. The dilation immediately grew to 8cm and already there was some rupture. So she asked the nurse to get me to a labour room pronto – it was time.
Then, everything happened so quickly. I was quickly wheeled to another room and asked to put on the birthing garment. The nurse asked me if I wanted to pass motion first but there was no time for it already. The next thing I knew, I was pushing. I remember somebody asking me if I would like to have my husband with me. Yes, very much so, thank you, but unfortunately, at that particular time he was still in Terengganu. It all happened so quickly that I did not even manage to let him know that I was going to the labour room. Baby was already too impatient to get out and see the world. As it happened, hubby only got to meet and hold baby for the first time about 12 hours after he was born.
I remember there were a few nurses around who were sort of cheering me on, encouraging me and praising me for my effort in pushing. I planned on attending an ante-natal class but never found the time to do so, so I really appreciated that I got a crash on-hand course on the technique of pushing. “Tarik nafas panjang-panjang…Push…. Push terus…. Curi nafas sikit, sambung push…Lagi… Push terus… Macam tu… Pandai… Lagi… Push terus..”
At one time when I was supposed to push, the nurse made a cut, but I wasn’t pushing so ouch – that really hurt… I actually pushed her hand away. She reprimanded me – “Puan, saya nak sambut anak puan ni, jangan la tolak tangan saya” Opppss sorry, that was my reflexes, rather than me acting on rational thoughts.
But like I’ve said before – it was quite easy (compared to many horror stories I’ve heard about first birth experience). I entered the labour room at 11.35a.m. and by 11.52a.m., my baby was safely delivered, alhamdulillah.
The nurse showed me the wrinkled-and-red-baby’s genital and asked me to pronounce whether it was a boy or girl. Initially hubby and I both hoped for a boy, but we had been told that it was going to be a girl when we went to a scan when I was in my 6th month of pregnancy. Apart from that, a lot of people had predicted me to get a girl based on the classic symptoms (tummy was small and more oblong like a watermelon instead of rounding like a ball, had a bad case of nausea and vomiting throughout the whole nine months, had more break-outs than usual, etc) So, we prepared ourselves for the arrival of a girl. In fact, I’d already even bought some bigger dresses in advance to be brought to Japan.
Imagine my joy and surprise when I saw that it was a boy. “It’s a boy!”, or so I exclaimed in wonder. Which made one of the nurses asked me, “Kenapa bunyi macam terkejut?” “Masa scan, doktor kata perempuan”, I explained. The nurse who held the baby and asked me to pronounce my baby’s gender assured me that it was a boy alright. She could tell from my expression that I was too delighted beyond words to learn that I gave birth to a boy after all. I was given a minute together with him after the nurse checked his vital signals, as he was laid on my chest, still red and quivering, just before he was cleaned. And my mind just went “Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy…My baby is a boy…”
The nurse who cleaned my baby noticed a pair of pink jumpsuit in the bag I brought for the baby and teased me, asking me to keep the pink stuff for the baby’s future sister, maybe in two years time. And I just grinned in response, thinking how happy hubby would be to learn that we got a boy after all, just like we’d initially wished for.
Then my baby was taken to the waiting hall to be introduced to the waiting family. So, Ayah got the honour of calling the azan to my baby first since hubby was not around to do so. Later, my father-in-law got the honour of giving baby’s first tahnik (feeding the baby with a small mixture of zam-zam water, honey and tiny bits of dates). The nurse who brought him out to Ayah commented that the azan was one of the loudest ever in the waiting hall. Well, that’s Ayah – guess that was how he expressed his thankfulness of getting his first grandchild.
I had my first proper, quiet, one-on-one moment with baby about an hour after delivery, after the nurses had worked on getting the placenta out and stitched the perineum cut and tear. I was so thankful that breastfeeding came easily for both of us. Even the nurse who presented the baby to me noted that, as she told me that some mothers find it difficult to breastfeed for the first time due to inverted nipple or the baby do not know how to suck correctly. But with baby and me, it happened so naturally easy. It was almost as if he knew that he only had 11 days with me before he could stop feeding on me, so he had to make the most out of it.
Oh my – that first moment, the first time I was able to hold him close in reality after carrying him inside me for nine months – it was pure heaven. There is nothing quite as unique – the feeling of joy, wonder, thankfulness all mixed up together. I even tried to shut my awareness that I had only 11 days before I was going to leave him, just so that I could enjoy our first moments together more. I lied on one side, feeding him, and all wrapped up in taking note of his features – his innocent huge black eyes, his tiny long fingers(like that famous Bollywood heartthrob Hritrik Roshan, my baby has a dual right thumb – so in his case he could even raise three thumbs up!) his soft dark hair, his birth mark, and all.
Then, the painful experience began.
Well, I felt really hungry after delivery. Partly because everything that I ate that morning all came out as I kept vomiting back whatever I ate – bread, calcium crackers, a mug if Milo. My auntie was very concerned, of course, telling me that I was going to need all the energy to push. It’s not like I refused to eat, only that what I ate refused to remain inside. So, yes, I was really famished when I thought it was all over. I thought I would be wheeled to the ward just in time for lunch to be served.
But apparently, it was far from over.
The Kelantanese, 27-year-old nurse who did the initial stitches came to check on me. There was a blood clot on my left labia, so, she opened the stitches and I could feel and saw some blood smattering on her white plastic apron. She left for a while and came back with another more senior nurse. They discussed the tear that the junior nurse was having problem stitching since my natural tear happened on top of a vein and the senior nurse advised her to stitch it in another manner.
It didn’t work. The blood clot remained and when she pressed, it hurt. They then consulted the doctor (who broke my water and supervised the labour for a short while). She asked the nurse to re-open the stitches. This time, when the stitches were re-opened, I could feel some blood flow, but at least it did not splashed out like it did earlier. The doctor put a gauge on the tear, and decided that if the blood stop flowing, then no stitches would be necessary there.
After a while, it began to hurt even more that I had to shout for a nurse to come and check on me. The doctor came and realized that the swell had only worsened. So, she consulted another more senior doctor. After a little probing, they came to agree that the haematoma needed the attention of Ah Chan. When the doctors left, I asked a nurse who Ah Chan is, and was told that he’s a specialist for haematoma and hemorrhaging cases. Up till then, those who had been involved in the process were all women, so realizing that a male doctor would be coming, I asked for my tudung. By now I was experiencing a lot of pain because all the procedures up till then had been conducted without anesthetic.
Then Dr Chan arrived and he took a look at the haematoma and explained to me that he was going to open all the stitches and re-do them all over again, but this time I would be put under sedatives. The nurses put some IV drip on my left hand and injected me with some anesthetic on my right hand and I was asked to wear the laughing gas mask before I passed out. The laughing gas brought great relief because by then anything that could take my mind away from all the pain was very much welcomed. But I remembered before passing out, Dr Chan scolded the nurses for not notifying him right away after the first incident of haematoma. Yeay – at least somebody had the mind to do that because honestly, I felt angry too being probed and having the stitches opened and re-done several time without anesthetic.
I woke up a couple of hours later, feeling drowsy yet still very hungry and thirsty. A nurse checked on me and asked if I would like to feed my baby again, to which I said yes. Somehow, holding and feeding my baby was very therapeutic, took my mind away from my own feeling of hunger.
Dr Chan came to check on me after that and he seemed very pleased with the development as the swollen seemed to lessen a bit. He then asked me about what course I’m going to take in Japan. Which really took me by surprise, so I asked back, who told him about me going to Japan. “You did, when you were under sedatives”. Oh, I see… Later, I was told by Mak that according to him, I ranted about going to Japan and my worries of leaving the baby while he conducted the minor surgery, so he knew that it must had been on top of my mind at that moment.
Finally, I was sent to the ward at around 6.30 p.m., over six hours after I gave birth, where else normally, new mothers are sent to the ward about two hours after delivery.
Well, I just hope that if anybody else has any case of labial haematoma, the nurse will be asked to immediately consult the specialist doctor for it. While my experience of giving birth was relatively easy – going through the several processes of the stitches being opened and re-stitched is something I hope could be spared from others.
Still, at the end of the day, getting Huzaifah was worth it.
I started staining 2 nights before I gave birth. But there was no accompanying pain. I’d experienced mild contractions before, so I was sure that it wasn’t time yet. However, the next day my auntie (I was staying at Putrajaya, at my uncle’s place) insisted on having a doctor to take a look at it, well “just in case you have an opening and you do not realize it”. We went to the hospital where I was told that the opening was so small that only the baby’s hair could pass through. The doctor predicted that I would give birth after maybe 3 to 5 days.
The doctor’s prediction was far from true. That very night, I began feeling some contractions. Making the most of my before “pantang” time, I enjoyed a game of Scrabble with my cousins while stuffing myself with a quarter tub of La Cremeria ice-cream (Kakaq – I fell in love with La Cremeria ice cream after you introduced it to me). The contractions became stronger sometime in early morning and by 8.00 a.m., I noticed a steady flow of longer contractions which occurred about every 5 minutes. However, wanting to believe that it could be mere false alarm because somehow I was hoping that baby would wait for the father to come home, (and hubby was supposed to return that day) I waited and the contractions seemed to lessen a bit by 9.00 a.m. Nevertheless, by 10.00 a.m., I knew that I had to go to the hospital and asked Ayah (who, together with Mak, had been around since the previous evening after I returned from the hospital for the check-up) to send me there.
Ayah took a long time getting ready – it was 11.00 a.m. when we actually made our move. By then, I was really in pain that I simply refused to sit down when asked to do so by the nurse. I found walking able to lessen the pain. The nurse on duty took my blood pressure reading, checked my weight, even asked me to lie down to get a CTG reading (to check the baby’s heartbeat). Luckily, it wasn’t long when the doctor came to check on me. She checked my opening and told me that I was already 4cm dilated. Then she got my water broken. The dilation immediately grew to 8cm and already there was some rupture. So she asked the nurse to get me to a labour room pronto – it was time.
Then, everything happened so quickly. I was quickly wheeled to another room and asked to put on the birthing garment. The nurse asked me if I wanted to pass motion first but there was no time for it already. The next thing I knew, I was pushing. I remember somebody asking me if I would like to have my husband with me. Yes, very much so, thank you, but unfortunately, at that particular time he was still in Terengganu. It all happened so quickly that I did not even manage to let him know that I was going to the labour room. Baby was already too impatient to get out and see the world. As it happened, hubby only got to meet and hold baby for the first time about 12 hours after he was born.
I remember there were a few nurses around who were sort of cheering me on, encouraging me and praising me for my effort in pushing. I planned on attending an ante-natal class but never found the time to do so, so I really appreciated that I got a crash on-hand course on the technique of pushing. “Tarik nafas panjang-panjang…Push…. Push terus…. Curi nafas sikit, sambung push…Lagi… Push terus… Macam tu… Pandai… Lagi… Push terus..”
At one time when I was supposed to push, the nurse made a cut, but I wasn’t pushing so ouch – that really hurt… I actually pushed her hand away. She reprimanded me – “Puan, saya nak sambut anak puan ni, jangan la tolak tangan saya” Opppss sorry, that was my reflexes, rather than me acting on rational thoughts.
But like I’ve said before – it was quite easy (compared to many horror stories I’ve heard about first birth experience). I entered the labour room at 11.35a.m. and by 11.52a.m., my baby was safely delivered, alhamdulillah.
The nurse showed me the wrinkled-and-red-baby’s genital and asked me to pronounce whether it was a boy or girl. Initially hubby and I both hoped for a boy, but we had been told that it was going to be a girl when we went to a scan when I was in my 6th month of pregnancy. Apart from that, a lot of people had predicted me to get a girl based on the classic symptoms (tummy was small and more oblong like a watermelon instead of rounding like a ball, had a bad case of nausea and vomiting throughout the whole nine months, had more break-outs than usual, etc) So, we prepared ourselves for the arrival of a girl. In fact, I’d already even bought some bigger dresses in advance to be brought to Japan.
Imagine my joy and surprise when I saw that it was a boy. “It’s a boy!”, or so I exclaimed in wonder. Which made one of the nurses asked me, “Kenapa bunyi macam terkejut?” “Masa scan, doktor kata perempuan”, I explained. The nurse who held the baby and asked me to pronounce my baby’s gender assured me that it was a boy alright. She could tell from my expression that I was too delighted beyond words to learn that I gave birth to a boy after all. I was given a minute together with him after the nurse checked his vital signals, as he was laid on my chest, still red and quivering, just before he was cleaned. And my mind just went “Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy…My baby is a boy…”
The nurse who cleaned my baby noticed a pair of pink jumpsuit in the bag I brought for the baby and teased me, asking me to keep the pink stuff for the baby’s future sister, maybe in two years time. And I just grinned in response, thinking how happy hubby would be to learn that we got a boy after all, just like we’d initially wished for.
Then my baby was taken to the waiting hall to be introduced to the waiting family. So, Ayah got the honour of calling the azan to my baby first since hubby was not around to do so. Later, my father-in-law got the honour of giving baby’s first tahnik (feeding the baby with a small mixture of zam-zam water, honey and tiny bits of dates). The nurse who brought him out to Ayah commented that the azan was one of the loudest ever in the waiting hall. Well, that’s Ayah – guess that was how he expressed his thankfulness of getting his first grandchild.
I had my first proper, quiet, one-on-one moment with baby about an hour after delivery, after the nurses had worked on getting the placenta out and stitched the perineum cut and tear. I was so thankful that breastfeeding came easily for both of us. Even the nurse who presented the baby to me noted that, as she told me that some mothers find it difficult to breastfeed for the first time due to inverted nipple or the baby do not know how to suck correctly. But with baby and me, it happened so naturally easy. It was almost as if he knew that he only had 11 days with me before he could stop feeding on me, so he had to make the most out of it.
Oh my – that first moment, the first time I was able to hold him close in reality after carrying him inside me for nine months – it was pure heaven. There is nothing quite as unique – the feeling of joy, wonder, thankfulness all mixed up together. I even tried to shut my awareness that I had only 11 days before I was going to leave him, just so that I could enjoy our first moments together more. I lied on one side, feeding him, and all wrapped up in taking note of his features – his innocent huge black eyes, his tiny long fingers(like that famous Bollywood heartthrob Hritrik Roshan, my baby has a dual right thumb – so in his case he could even raise three thumbs up!) his soft dark hair, his birth mark, and all.
Then, the painful experience began.
Well, I felt really hungry after delivery. Partly because everything that I ate that morning all came out as I kept vomiting back whatever I ate – bread, calcium crackers, a mug if Milo. My auntie was very concerned, of course, telling me that I was going to need all the energy to push. It’s not like I refused to eat, only that what I ate refused to remain inside. So, yes, I was really famished when I thought it was all over. I thought I would be wheeled to the ward just in time for lunch to be served.
But apparently, it was far from over.
The Kelantanese, 27-year-old nurse who did the initial stitches came to check on me. There was a blood clot on my left labia, so, she opened the stitches and I could feel and saw some blood smattering on her white plastic apron. She left for a while and came back with another more senior nurse. They discussed the tear that the junior nurse was having problem stitching since my natural tear happened on top of a vein and the senior nurse advised her to stitch it in another manner.
It didn’t work. The blood clot remained and when she pressed, it hurt. They then consulted the doctor (who broke my water and supervised the labour for a short while). She asked the nurse to re-open the stitches. This time, when the stitches were re-opened, I could feel some blood flow, but at least it did not splashed out like it did earlier. The doctor put a gauge on the tear, and decided that if the blood stop flowing, then no stitches would be necessary there.
After a while, it began to hurt even more that I had to shout for a nurse to come and check on me. The doctor came and realized that the swell had only worsened. So, she consulted another more senior doctor. After a little probing, they came to agree that the haematoma needed the attention of Ah Chan. When the doctors left, I asked a nurse who Ah Chan is, and was told that he’s a specialist for haematoma and hemorrhaging cases. Up till then, those who had been involved in the process were all women, so realizing that a male doctor would be coming, I asked for my tudung. By now I was experiencing a lot of pain because all the procedures up till then had been conducted without anesthetic.
Then Dr Chan arrived and he took a look at the haematoma and explained to me that he was going to open all the stitches and re-do them all over again, but this time I would be put under sedatives. The nurses put some IV drip on my left hand and injected me with some anesthetic on my right hand and I was asked to wear the laughing gas mask before I passed out. The laughing gas brought great relief because by then anything that could take my mind away from all the pain was very much welcomed. But I remembered before passing out, Dr Chan scolded the nurses for not notifying him right away after the first incident of haematoma. Yeay – at least somebody had the mind to do that because honestly, I felt angry too being probed and having the stitches opened and re-done several time without anesthetic.
I woke up a couple of hours later, feeling drowsy yet still very hungry and thirsty. A nurse checked on me and asked if I would like to feed my baby again, to which I said yes. Somehow, holding and feeding my baby was very therapeutic, took my mind away from my own feeling of hunger.
Dr Chan came to check on me after that and he seemed very pleased with the development as the swollen seemed to lessen a bit. He then asked me about what course I’m going to take in Japan. Which really took me by surprise, so I asked back, who told him about me going to Japan. “You did, when you were under sedatives”. Oh, I see… Later, I was told by Mak that according to him, I ranted about going to Japan and my worries of leaving the baby while he conducted the minor surgery, so he knew that it must had been on top of my mind at that moment.
Finally, I was sent to the ward at around 6.30 p.m., over six hours after I gave birth, where else normally, new mothers are sent to the ward about two hours after delivery.
Well, I just hope that if anybody else has any case of labial haematoma, the nurse will be asked to immediately consult the specialist doctor for it. While my experience of giving birth was relatively easy – going through the several processes of the stitches being opened and re-stitched is something I hope could be spared from others.
Still, at the end of the day, getting Huzaifah was worth it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
LinkWithin
