Five Things...

(with apology to K.I. Yes, I know, this is more your style than mine...)

This time tomorrow insya Allah I'll be in Malaysia. This might be the last entry I post from Japan for this year. So, here's some short notes on a few stuff..

Five things I look forward to...
Meeting/hugging/kissing/spoiling Huzaifah
Spending quality time with both hubby and son
Spending quality time with the rest of the family
Visiting and spending time with friends
Cooking lesson from my mother in law


Khairil's newborn son, Ahmad Hazim. Looking forward to visit this little boy and his elder siblings


Husna, Jue's not-so-new baby, another baby I would very much like to visit. (Note to self - no, don't ask for her hand as yet for Huzaifah... Mada, mada....)


Five things I would like to eat while I'm back in Malaysia...
McDonald's Big Mac Value Meal set (yes, this have something to do with the fact that I have to pass the McDonald's outlet with really, really tempting fried potato smell every day in front of the station near my dorm)
Laksa
Sambal udang
Daging dendeng
Secret Recipe's yoghurt cheese cake

Five things I bought as o-miyage
Baby Gap bodysuits
Summer yukata
Cuff link and tie pin set
Souvenir t-shirts with Kanji character
Okashi (chocolate and sweets)


This is for my son


These are for close family members


And these for everybody else

Five things I have to do (whether or not I like it)

Take Huzaifah to visit my biological mother

Conduct interviews
Write my report
Prepare for a presentation
Nihongo fuyu yasumi shukudai (homework for the winter break)

Five things I'm going to miss while I'm in Malaysia
Tenya (I am a self-confessed Tenya's Tendon addict)
Lunch breaks with Hien-san and Savitri-san
Nihongo Ichi
Nice pak guard and his greetings ("Ohayo", "Iterasshai", "Tadaima"... which all helped me developing some sense of belonging)
24/7 reliable Internet access


Hien-san and her famous haru maki (Vietnamese food)


Savitri-san and me with typical Nihonjin pose


Yasashii ojisan

So, chances are I'll be on hiatus for a while. I'll update my blog if it's possible to do so while I'm back. But if I don't get to do so - see you next year, insya Allah.

Nengajoo

It’s interesting how our sensei try to let us experience the Japanese custom while we are learning Nihongo. Since o-shogatsu (New Year) is coming soon and it’s a common practice for Japanese to send out nengajoo to family, friends and acquaintances, the students of Nihongo Ichi are also given a chance to experience this custom ourselves. We are given two nengajoo each, one for our own classmate, and another for a Nihonjin friend.



First, each and every of us were asked to write our own address on the front of the card. Sensei collected all card and these cards will be randomly distributed, so that each of us would be receiving a card from somebody from the class. Since I won’t be attending the class tomorrow, I’d already gotten mine and had already submitted it to Shin sensei today. It just so happened that I got to write to Hien-san, a Vietnamese girl I’ve grown quite close to since the very beginning of the class. Hien is my age and has two sons aged 6 and 5 she left under her parents’ care in Hanoi. She had been really helpful during the first few weeks when I was still in my confinement period. She even helped carrying my bag at times when she noticed I was extra tired. So, it was easy writing to her – expressing my gratitude for her friendship and all her assistance as well as expressing my hope for a long lasting friendship.



Instead of just one more nengajoo for a Nihonjin friend, I got two. I chose to write to Yohei-san and Mori-chan, two volunteers in Nihongo Ichi class on Thursday and Wednesday respectively. Yohei-san was actually a later addition to Kawaguchi sensei’s list of volunteers in Nihongo Ichi class, but he has become a good friend of some sort, taking note when I was absent from class and even remember Huzaifah’s name.




Mori-chan, on the other hand, had been with us since the early days when we were still trying to remember counting one to ten in nihongo. She has a cheerful personality, a charming disposition and a cute face – so much so that I believe she’ll be one of the top recipient of nengajoo from Nihongo Ichi students.



Nengajoo is perhaps the most important and popular greeting cards in Japan. The ones given by sensei to us are the postcards sold at the post office. There are many different types of cards sold everywhere – stationary shops, 100 yen shops, even konbini. Since the coming year is going to be the year of dog according to the Japanese calendar, nengajoo with Snoopy as its main picture is tremendously popular this year.


There are some basic rules about writing nengajoo – which is well explained here. I however do not conform to the normal practice of drawing the animal-of-the-year on my nengajoo. Instead, with the help of a friend, I have roaster on mine – hopefully the recipient of my cards will take that as a sign of saying sayounara to the year of the roaster.

Minna san - yoi otoshi o kudasai! (Have a good year everybody)

Watashi No Shumi

3 bulan. Sudah. Belajar bahasa jepun. Dalam. Kelas Nihongo Ichi.

Esok. Kali pertama. Pengucapan awam. Nihongo.
Walau. Masih tergagap-gagap. Tiada pilihan. Mesti!

3 minit. Pilih 1 antara 3 tajuk. Keluarga Saya. Negara Saya. Hobi Saya.

Aku pilih. No 3. Watashi no shumi.

Dan inilah. Yang akan dicecehkan. Di hadapan. Kelas Nihongo Ichi

"Watashi no shumi

Watashi no shumi wa shashin o torukoto to yama ni noborukoto des.
Mareeshia de iro iro na yama e nobori ni ikimashita.
Ni jyu hassai no toki tounam Ajia no ichiban takai yama, Kinabaru-san ni noborimashita.
Kinabaru-san wa totemo kirei na yama desuga samukatta des.
Watashi wa takusan shashin o torimashita. Hito ya ki ya hana no shashin o torimashita.
Tomodachi ni shashin o urimashitakara takusan okane o moraimashita.

Watashi no otto no shumi mo shashin o torukoto des.
Yasumi no hi isshoni futari de iro iro na tokoro e itte, shashin o torimashita.
Musuko o unda ato wa musuko no shashin o takusan torimashita.
Demo hountou wa amari jouzu ja arimasen.

Watashi wa shashin o miruno mo sukides.
Intaanetto de yoku fotopeijes o mimas.
Shashin o miru no wa tanoshiinode mai shuu sukina no to atarashii no to o mimas.

Nihon de watashi wa Fuji-san e nobori ni ikitai des.
Fuji-san no ichiban ue no yuki no shashin o toritai des.
Rainen kazoku ga Nihon e kita toki tabun otto to isshoni Fuji-san ni nobottari shashin o tottari shimas.

Ijou des.
Arigatou gozaimashita."

Dan inilah. Terjemahan. Pengucapan awam. Yang akan dicecehkan. Lambat-lambat.
Agar. Cukup. 3 minit.

"Hobi saya

Hobi saya ialah mengambil gambar dan mendaki gunung.
Di Malaysia banyak gunung yang telah dipanjat.
Sewaktu berusia 28 tahun, gunung tertinggi Asia Tenggara, Gunung Kinabalu, telah didaki.
Gunung Kinabalu ialah gunung yang sangat cantik tetapi sangat sejuk.
Saya telah mengambil banyak gambar. Gambar orang, gambar pokok, gambar bunga.
Gambar-gambar telah dijual kepada kawan-kawan, jadi banyak wang yang diterima.

Hobi suami saya juga mengambil gambar.
Pada hari cuti kami berdua bersama-sama pergi ke merata tempat dan mengambil gambar.
Selepas anak lelaki kami dilahirkan, banyak gambar anak yang ditangkap.
Tetapi sebenarnya kami tidaklah pandai sangat mengambil gambar.

Saya juga suka melihat gambar.
Di Internet, selalu melihat Fotopages.
Kerana melihat gambar menyeronokkan, setiap minggu Fotopages kesukaan dan yang baru akan dilihat.

Di Jepun saya ingin pergi mendaki Gunung Fuji.
Saya ingin menangkap gambar salji di puncak Gunung Fuji.
Tahun depan selepas keluarga saya datang ke Jepun, mungkin saya dan suami akan bersama-sama ke Gunung Fuji, mendaki dan menangkap gambar.

Sekian, terima kasih."

Help!

It’s not all play and vacation time for me when I go back to Malaysia during this fuyu yasumi (winter break). I need to work on a few term papers. One of them is on childbirth or pregnancy.

As of now – I haven’t make up my mind firmly whether to discuss the advantages and disadvantages of childbirth in public vs. private hospital; or to discuss the reliance on midwife as authoritative knowledge in childbirth; or to talk about the role of a husband as main support during pregnancy and childbirth.

I need help – on deciding what to write about and related questions to ask. It’ll be a qualitative mini research rather than a quantative one, getting as much personal voice as possible based on personal experiences.

Any idea?

A note of thanks

I recently got in touch with an old colleague. A fellow student when I was in UK, she’s now a mother-of-3 who’s working hard to get her PhD in London,,, err Bristol actually...

It was a pleasure to get in touch again, especially after learning that she too has a tough time managing being a wife, a mother and a student. I told her that perhaps a lot of readers could have benefited from her stories if she had chosen to be a blogger. She dismissed it off – “it’s too glamorous for me,” or so she declared. I told her that she could always remain anonymous. She shrugged it off – telling me that it’s okay for me because I don’t have to worry about being found out by students who might use my blog against me someday. Funny – I never consciously thought about the possibility of anybody using my blog against me at work. Nevertheless, the fact that I have been pretty blasé about a lot of work-related stuff, might be due to some warning coming from some dark corner of my mind. We can never be too careful, huh?

Anyway, it’s always a pleasure to be able to talk to someone who’s encouraging and understanding since she has gone through basically what I’m going through right now. From time to time, I really appreciate a strong note of encouragement and support coming from someone who has gone through a challenging time herself is even more motivating. It’s like I’ve found a mentor of some sort, whose reassurance would carry more weight because she had personally gone through this winding road I’m currently trudging.

I must admit that while I know that I have the support, love and blessings from those who count most – my husband, my family – I’ve gotten my share of some negative labeling. I try not to think too much about them, but sometimes they could hurt. Funny but true – the same thing viewed as a strong and courageous thing to do, is also viewed as something very selfish and uncaring.

Somebody once said that I did not deserve any sympathy during the first few weeks after my arrival in Tokyo, when I missed my son most, while trying to get used to my new surrounding when my body was still rather weak. She nonchalantly pointed out I don’t deserve any word of support because nobody asked me to do it anyway. It was my choice, she pointed out - I just had to deal with it. Some went further to point out that I deserved the lowest feeling because I have committed the lowest crime of not being a good mother and a good wife. To them I have simply selfishly abandoned my family in order to pursue my own dream.

Heart, fragile being as it is, could easily get deeply hurt as much as it could get healed by words.

That’s why I try to make the most of the positive words I receive while dismissing the offensive ones. That’s why I find it so comforting to be able to talk to and swap different experiences and opinions with someone who made a similar decision.

At the same time, I also find comfort and warmth in other supporting souls. People who tell me that I can do it, that I’ll succeed and it’ll worth the hard times I’m facing now. People who tell me that in a decade or two, I’ll be able to look back with a smile on my face. People who somehow find my stories inspiring, believe in me and inspire me in return.

I can’t name all of you here, but dear friends, colleagues, acquaintances, fellow bloggers, readers - for all your support, doa, warm wishes, please accept my utmost gratitude from the bottom of my heart.

Autumn in Waseda - More Momiji

More Momiji
Originally uploaded by aezack.

Kirei ne?

Autumn in Waseda - Colorful Momiji

Colorful Momiji
Originally uploaded by aezack.

Mixture of colors in one tree - green, yellow, orange, red. A sight to behold...

Autumn in Waseda 3

Momiji in Waseda 3
Originally uploaded by aezack.

Is it red turning yellow or yellow turning red?

Autumn in Waseda 2

Momiji in Waseda 2
Originally uploaded by aezack.

More momiji

Autumn in Waseda

Momiji in Waseda
Originally uploaded by aezack.

I know, I know - it's already winter. In fact it's already snowing in the northern part of Honshu. Tokyo rarely gets any snow - I guess the overpopulation and everything else that comes with it (too many vehicles, high usage of electricity, etc) makes it difficult to snow here

Anyway - here are a few momiji pictures taken in Waseda University's Oyama Garden (I took the snapshots using my classmate Noel-san's camera)

Mochitsuki

It was on the day Huzaifah turned 3 months old when I got to try my hand at making mochi. I thought I wouldn’t get a chance at it this year because normally mochitsuki is only held a few days before new year and I won’t be in Japan during those days this year.

Kawaguchi sensei (the only male sensei for Nihongo Ichi class, and my favorite sensei) made an announcement before the class started last Thursday. Class for 2nd period would ended at 11.30a.m. (instead of 12.10 p.m.) and everybody was invited to a mochitsuki session, organized by Waseda University Centre of Japanese Language, at Oyama Garden.

I almost jumped at hearing that. Only the day before I remember confessing to Honda sensei how much I would have loved to attend a mochitsuki and be given an opportunity to try it the pounding myself.

So, at 11.30 a.m., Arai sensei led the (mostly excited, although some had no idea what mochi is) Nihongo Ichi students to Oyama Garden. We were greeted by the sight of some sumo wrestlers pounding on mochi. (Sorry, no pics of Sumo wrestlers pounding on the mochi though) A long line was already formed at a makeshift tent – for guests to try out mochi and ozoni soup. They even served vegetarian ozoni soup. The mochi was served fresh and warm, as opposed to the room-temperatured ones easily found at most su-pa (supermarkets). Hot mochi, hot ozoni, traditional Japanese music blasted from some speakers, cloudless clear blue sky, not-too-cold weather – all in all made it a perfect day to be out socializing with students from the same and different Nihongo classes.



The best part was given an opportunity to try the pounding ourselves. Some students just posed for pictures. Some were given opportunity to mash the rice until the individual rice grains can no longer be seen (similar to nasi himpit texture) before beginning pounding. Some, like me, just went straight to the pounding part. No, we didn’t get to the shaping the mochi and covering it with red bean paste or powdered with sweet flour and peanut mixture, but even then, the pounding itself was interesting.



Using a medium-heavy kine (mallet), I took turn pounding on the rice with another girl standing opposite of me, listening carefully to “Yosho!” signs from the girl kneeling, in charge of turning and wetting the mochi in the usu (mortar). We wouldn’t want to pound on the girl’s hand by mistake, of course. It was fun aiming for the hardest pound in the middle of the mortar too. An exercise which reminded me of my field hockey training years ago, an outlet to let go of bottled up stresses and frustrations.

And so I pounded. Hard. Carefully aimed at the middle of the mortar. Never missed it even once.

Hard work. But the end result was a good, smooth-textured delicious mochi.

Hmmm… Oishii sou!

Ten more days

Ten more days before I’ll go back.
Ten more days before I’ll get to hold Huzaifah again.

Huzaifah turned 3 months last Thursday. Hubby and Mak took him to see a doctor at Putrajaya Hospital Orthopedic department to take a closer look at his dual right thumb. They had been advised to see a specialist in PPUM for a more detailed inspection and consultation. Mak, knowing how much I want to listen to the doctor’s advice myself, has decided to let me take Huzaifah to consult the doctor during my coming short break. Whatever it is, Huzaifah is still too small to be operated on. If we decide to do anything about his dual thumb, it can only be done after he is a year old or more.

I remember my brother asking me when I would like to do something about Huzaifah’s dual thumb. I asked him, why should I? He felt that the dual thumb might subject Huzaifah to lots of unwanted teases and what nots. “Nanti orang cakap pelik.”

I spoke back in a quiet voice with a hint of irritation – that if there is no harm to it, I won’t get rid of the dual thumb. I assured my brother that I’ll train my son to stand up against those who tease him about his dual thumb. I’ll teach him to joke about it. I’ll teach him that it’s okay to be a unique person who can actually make 3-thumbs-up sign when others can’t. I want Huzaifah to be proud of who he is. I want him to be able to celebrate his uniqueness, not feeling like an outcast, regardless of his difference. And if his own uncle could not deal with his uniqueness – too bad then, although I would appreciate more support and understanding. My brother shrugged. But he never raised the subject again after that.

Nevertheless, I haven’t make up my mind entirely. Any final decision regarding Huzaifah’s dual thumb will be made after consultation with a specialist, insya Allah. But honestly, if there’s no harm to it, hubby and I have agreed to just let it be. We would never operate on it out of cosmetic reason.

As for now, since Mak and Ayah have already returned to Kampung Tunku and Mak hadn’t paid the Streamyx bill, I could no longer view my son through the webcam. I sometimes get to hear his gurgles of baby talk, though. He’s a lot bigger now, a lot more reactive to people’s cooing, a very happy baby who loves smiling, and looks like his dad more and more as he grows. He sleeps better at night too now, often about 4 hours at one stretch, no longer subjecting Mak and Ayah to fitful nights. Only that he needs to be put to sleep on one’s lap before he can sleep in his own cot.

I look forward to taking over all those motherly duties Mak is doing right now on my behalf when I go back.

Ten more days…
I can’t wait.

It's not like I'm a terrible cook...

I cooked dinner for the three Malaysian boys (who used to live) in the same hostel last Friday. A farewell dinner of some sort since they moved out on the following day. All three of them – Faizly a.k.a. Sabah, Hafiz a.k.a. Apid and Fahmi – moved to Saginuma, closer to their university, Tokodai. Nothing much really – five-spice chicken, chicken (bone) soup with potato and carrot and sweet & sour bull’s-eyes fried eggs.



I must confess that I was a bit worried about my cooking when it comes to serving those who are good cooks themselves or those who are used to good cook’s cooking. Sabah, being the son of a caterer is good in cooking while Apid is not too bad. I have never tasted his cooking, but I’ve heard that he comes from a family of good cook – his mom, aunts, granny… So, yes, while I really wanted to “raikan” the boys one last time before they said adieu to the hostel, I was a bit worried that they might find my cooking not that good. Fortunately, all three of them seemed to enjoy their food that night…

It’s not like I am a terrible cook. I can cook. But cooking is not something that I do for fun. I do it because I have to. Anis, the girl who used to live in the same dorm with me back in Leeds can testify how I preferred not to cook. I used to buy most of the food for both of us, and she used to cook them most of the time (if not all the time). Prior to living with Anis, I often survived more on fruits and bars of Twix or Kit-kat than on food I cooked. Even when I cooked – it would normally be either spaghetti (with ready-made sauce), rice (cooked using automatic rice cooker) and tomyam soup (just throw everything in a pot of boiling water plus the tomyam paste).

I seldom cooked at home, because most of the time either Mak or the helper would be cooking, so I just helped out with the preparation. But of course, I’ve learned to make some favourite dishes when I was in UK out of necessity, since there were no ‘ma-ple’ stalls selling laksa, nasi ayam, nasi lemak or mee bandung. And yes, I also improved my pudding-making skills when I was in UK. Hey, I even baked my own cake when I was there – but has never baked anything since 1998.

Even after I got married, I haven’t really been doing any real cooking except for a few occasions. Partly because I’ve been staying at either my parents’ house, my parents-in-law’s house or my uncle’s place. Partly because the mere smell of fried oil could sent me running to the toilet (to vomit) when I was pregnant. So, I’ve only recently started cooking again after my arrival in Tokyo.

Like I said earlier – I’m not a terrible cook. Judging from the (seemingly) honest praises I’d received for some dishes I’d made here in Tokyo, I suspect that I might have inherited some good ‘air tangan’ when it comes to cooking. My paternal grandma, Tok, used to be an excellent cook until about a decade ago when she was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease.

But of course, I have a long way to go before becoming an accomplished cook. I’m more like a person who can toss everything into the pot and comes up with something tasteful (though not quite conventional dish).

Still I intend to be a good cook – even if not to the standard of my mother-in-law (a full time housewife who keeps her own hand-written cookbooks since the 60s or 70s) – at least someone who can perfect the skills of making hubby’s favorite dishes. Not that he has ever complained about my cooking (bless him for being sooooo accepting of my shortcomings), but Mak’s advice about winning a man’s heart through his stomach resounds at the back of my mind a bit loudly from time to time.

So, when I go back, I need to learn from my mother in-law and experiment with daging dendeng ala Rasah, masak lemak cili api ala Rembau, rendang maman… And yes, trying out recipes from here could never substitute a class with the real guru – hubby's mother…

On this anniversary

Before I married my husband, En Malik, a senior officer at the office (or affectionately called Pak by me) began teasing by calling me “ustazah”. It wasn’t long when many others followed suit. Yes, apparently to them, since the title ustaz is kind of an honor, it’s only right to honor the ustaz’s wife by referring to her as ustazah. In Pak’s word, “if you marries a tuan, you become a puan. Since you are going to marry an ustaz, so you become ustazah.”

Duh.

Somehow the nickname didn’t last long. Not in the office anyway – I guess I’m way too un-ustazah like, so the nickname just could not stick.

But I do get addressed as ustazah. All the time. Everytime I accompanied hubby to some functions or talk, some ladies would have asked me questions along this line:

"Ustazah kerja kat mana?"
"Errr… saya bukan ustazah…"
"Ooohhh… Cikgu mengajar kat mana?"
"Errr… saya bukan cikgu…"
"Ooohhh… kenal ustaz masa belajar ye?"

For some reason or others, it almost seems obligatory for an ustaz to marry an ustazah or a teacher. If the wife is neither an ustazah nor a teacher, then the ustaz was supposed to have known the wife when they were still studying. And of course, the wife would have been studying in the same place (in hubby’s case, Egypt) if not the same university (Al-Azhar).

Duh.

I’ve since learned to stop telling people that I’m neither an ustazah nor a teacher whenever I meet up with a new group of audience. If they are going to be hubby’s audience/students for long, sooner or later they would learn that he marries a government officer, from some other sources. If they are just one-time audience, it’s immaterial for them to learn more about the ustaz’s wife. The repeated audience of course, would be seeing me again from time to time, hence they would appreciate knowing a little background.

Once, a senior kakak at the office told me that she respects me for marrying an ustaz. She said that while she had heard of PTDs marrying teachers, she has never came across a PTD marrying an ustaz until me. Being a personal assistant, she has been working for many PTDs, so she thought that typical PTDs wouldn’t have married an ustaz because, most PTDs are just too… errr… duniawi. I grinned and told her I believe that I couldn’t be the first nor the last PTD to have married an ustaz, only that maybe she hasn’t had the fortune to meet any of them until me.

So, could a so-called duniawi PTD who could not fit the shoes of an ustazah/cikgu/Egypt graduate builds a successful marriage with a supposedly-ukhrawi ustaz (who also happens to be a Hafeez)?

I don’t know.
But I surely hope so.

Putting our obvious differences aside, we are just two people – like most other not-so-newly-married couples – who are still trying to learn more about each other. Learning to compromise, to accept each other’s shortcomings, to value our differences and to benefit from each other’s strengths. We laugh together and at each other. We quiet each other’s fears and are each other’s strongest supporter. We fight. We kiss and make up.

Like every responsible, sensible and rational married couple, we are aware that marriage needs lots of commitment and dedication to make it successful. I have seen how my biological mother and Ayah sucked at it. And I have seen how Mak and Ayah worked – and continue working – on theirs.

And if you have heard this before, yes, it’s true, children from broken homes try harder. Because we would try our best to avoid subjecting our kids to what we have went through. No kids deserve the kind of trauma which will end them as – in Nisah Haron’s words – “anak-anak yang rosak emosi”.

So hubby and I will keep learning. To fit our lives together. To love each other more. To be more accepting. No matter how worlds apart we may appear to others, we remain firm believers that there must be a good reason why out of billions people, we have been fated to find and marry each other.

And so, I stand by what I wrote him about a year ago –

"My dearest Abang,

May we always laugh together, cry together
and be there for each other
May we continue on caring, sharing
and understanding each other
May we get to be silly all the times
May we keep on whispering deep secrets
and dreaming wild adventures together
May we care for
and love each other
and be blessed by Allah
always"