Open House invite

We are planning to have Eidul Fitri open house this coming Sunday, 4 November 2007 at Asakusa Mosque. So if you are in the vicinity and would like to taste some home made Malaysian food, feel free to send me an email at aezack@gmail.com, so that I can send an invitation with all the necessary details...

By the way, Kak D's hubby passed away on the night of his 38th birthday. May Allah bless him always, and may Allah shower Kak D and her family with all the needs they long for from Him. (their youngest child is about the same age Kak D was when her mother passed away, so it must be really tough for my dearest 'tough cookie' kakak...)

Al-fatihah

Iro iro

nl : so you must be happy that kimi won (F1 World championship)
a.z. : mestilah!
nl : i thought you support McLaren
a.z. : i support kimi more
nl : eh, i thought you like kimu(ra takuya a.k.a. kimutaku) more
a.z. : kimi ke kimu, dua-dua pun sapu...

#####

z.j. : it's like u haven't put on weight much since we last met
z.j. : but u might not recognize me now...
a.z. : i ride the bike a lot here
a.z. : plus i live on the 5th floor with no elevator in the building
a.z. : but i don't know what it will be like when we return to Malaysia
a.z. : what do you think, should i bring my bike home?

#####

a.z. : we mothers, we want to study more
a.z. : we also want to be good wife, good mother
mdr: ya lah... so much to do kan
a.z. : tu lah, we only can do so much...
mdr: yes, so true
mdr: my friend suggested getting out of the house to ensure i can get my thesis work done since there are too many distractions at home
a.z. : o O (maybe we should, but could we?)

The 3rd Gender?

I am no expert, but I once promised Theta to write an entry on transsexuality in Islam.
Here are some links that might be of interest:

- Mukhannathun

- Transsexualism in Malaysia

- Mak Nyahs in Malaysia: The Influence of Culture and Religion on their Identity

- Sex Change in Cairo: Gender and Islamic Law

- Cara beribadat golongan khunsa

- Menguruskan jenazah khunsa

- Bolehkah khunsa berkahwin?

Janazah

(Author's note: This entry is inspired by Kak Lela. Gambatte ne Kak Lela and may Allah grant you courage and bless you for trying to do the right thing for the little girl)

1.

We have never met prior to their unexpected visit, a day before Humaidi’s cukur jambul ceremony. Soraiya, a Singaporean, is married to Yusuf-san, a Nihonjin, with three children. They had been living in Singapore but Yusuf-san is contemplating returning to Japan for good. Their three children – two boys aged 11 and 10, and a girl aged 7 – are all conversant in Nihonggo and will not have any trouble adapting to life in Japan, since they are attending a Japanese school in Singapore anyway. But Soraiya was anxious about a lot of things, top of all regarding life as Muslim.

Mak and hubby entertained her many questions as I was still feeling lethargic.

- No, McDonald’s in Japan is a big no-no because they do not use vegetable oil, so even their ebi (prawn) burger and filet-o-fish is not halal. Try First Kitchen for their Ebi Katsu or White Fish sandwich instead. (Thanks Oja for the info) Since First Kitchen, Lotteria, Mos Burger and Mister Donut could all be considered non-halal; and all products using cheese in Saizeriya is not halal for they contain rennet... That leaves... err, tendon or tempura at Tenya if one wants to give fast food in Tokyo a try...

- It’s quite easy to find mosques and musollas in Tokyo and its surrounding area now. There’s a new masjid in Yokohama too, the hometown of Yusuf-san

- Plenty of halal shops and restaurants too, if one knows where to look for it. Siddique and Samrat are among chain restaurants serving halal food, and there are plenty of halal shops in Shin Okubo area as well as online.

- Otsuka mosque provides Islamic classes for children on weekends. ICOJ arranges for Islamic summer school and summer camps for children during summer break annually.

- Leaning Nihonggo would be a bonus for daily life, and she has the advantage of practicing with her family once she starts learning Nihonggo.

“Lega betul saya dapat jumpa masjid ni. Kalau apa-apa jadi kat saya, kalau mati ke, kurang-kurang waris saya dah tahu ke mana nak tuju…”

#####

2.

Out of the three janazah management (funeral) for ladies that were held in Asakusa Mosque since I arrived and live here, I had only helped attended to the recent one. The first two happened when I was pregnant, so I was excused from helping due to the trans-cultural belief that it is not ‘healthy’ for a pregnant mother to be near a dead body.

The latest janazah management was last Monday. Even then, due to me having a small baby, the sisters sportingly excused me from doing the ghusul (bathing), and let me assisted with other things. To my limited knowledge, there are three mosques in Tokyo where ‘janazah’ is possible – Tokyo Camii in Yoyogi Uehara (Japan’s version of Nationaml Mosque), Otsuka Mosque and Asakusa Mosque, and we had been receiving deceased bodies from outside Tokyo as well – Chiba, Saitama, Kanagawa, even as far as from Ibaraki. While we have attended to people from different places with different nationalities, the faces attending to the deceased are almost always similar.

On Monday, Ibu Tien, an Indonesian who regularly lead ‘janazah’ preparation for ladies in Tokyo was not able to come to Asakusa, so sister Fatimah, a Nihonjin revert took charge. (Sister Fatimah is probably in her 50’s or 60’s, married to a Pakistani who is currently studying in Syria. They live in Syria most of the time, but Sister Fatimah is a well-known face in Tokyo for her dakwah works, as unlike her husband who only returns to Japan during his 3-months summer break, she spends about 5 months in Japan annually)

Referring to a test pad filled with lots of notes, she directed the four sisters who were in the ghusul room on how to perform toharah (cleasing), wudhu’(ablution) and ghusul(bathing) for the dead sister. The deceased came from a hospital, where she had already been cleaned once, so performing toharah on her was quite easy. She also came clad in a white kimono, which acted as her kain basahan (so there was no need for kain batik lepas to cover her aurat as she was bathed) The rest of us helped with preparing the kafan – producing a long loose sleeveless shirt, a sarong, a tudung, two really long winding sheets and tying ropes – all from white cotton cloth.

I was the runner. Although most of the equipments – plastic aprons for four, disposable rubber gloves, cotton wool, body shampoo, shampoo, disposable toothbrushes, toothpaste – were available in the ghusul room, I still needed to fetch a few things from my house on the fifth floor – cotton buds, rubber bands (to keep rolled-up sleeves in place) and old disposable towel to pat dry the deceased body – and not in one go.

Everything was done precisely and minimally – unlike the customs in Malaysia, managing a janazah in Japan does not include the use of bidara leaves, inai leaves, pillow made from pandan leaves, cendana, kapur barus, etc. Running warm water with suitable temperature (since it’s autumn and getting quite cold) was used with normal body shampoo and shampoo, and a little minyak attar (non-alcohol perfume) was applied on the body after ghusul was over.

Everybody helped with wrapping the deceased sister in her kafan. She had been fighting cancer in the past three years, her skinny bony body a witness of her struggle. But there was a look of peace on her face as sister Fatimah put on the tudung before the final wrapping. 　

I wonder if I'll look that peaceful when my time comes...

#####

3.

The youngest helper in the janazah management was an undergraduate student named Emma from Indonesia. Like me, she had helped managing janazah of her relatives in the past, but had never attended to a stranger before.

Unlike me who only started helping with janazah in my late twenties, her first experience was when she was a little over twenty.

I wonder – how many Malaysian Muslims staying abroad, undergraduates or otherwise, are capable of fully managing or at least assisting in janazah management?

#####

4.

Koseki-san, the detective from Asakusa Police Station – who visited us 3 times in Ramadhan alone due to the sudden increase in jamaah and activity at the mosque – called me the following day.

Yes, Ramadhan is over.
Yes, Eid is over – that Saturday when there were almost a 100 people came to the mosque, that was Eid.
No, we did not have any party on Monday, it was a funeral.
The people? We don’t know them personally, just briefly. Most of the men are friends of the deceased’s husband.
No, there was no meeting held at all; we - about 10 women and 20 men - were gathered solely for the funeral and it's a little bit complicated to explain the process in details

And while he didn’t ask me directly, I almost blurted out – “no, we are not involved with any terrorist activity, so don’t you worry.”

#####

In a totally unrelated way,

Q: Dr Sheikh Muszaphar is not the first Malaysian in space?
A: Here

You have my support

So, you're back to square one.
Your words, not mine.
You have chosen to be single again
You have my support

I believe that we have to make decisions that we can live with
You have decided to get engaged once
But things happened and you believe now
That it will be better for the two of you to go separate ways
Then so be it
You have my support

You believe that it’s better to end it now than later
It’s difficult for you to accept an insensitive mother-in-law to be
It’s even more difficult to accept that her son is just as insensitive
You believe that they have been unfair to you
And now you have decided
Not to go on with the wedding
Despite all the preparations that have been made
You have made your choice
You have my support

Perhaps life is a bed of roses after all
Amidst all the sweet smelling petals
There are just as many prickly thorns
People who are watching from afar
Might not comprehend
Only those who are lie on those beds of roses
Understand its pain better

I judge you not
I judge them not
But you are my friend
So you’ll have my support
And my love
Always

The Opappi Eidul Fitri

(Author's warning: This entry is terribly long - as long as a mid- term report, as it took just as long to write one. Please read at your own peril...)

Nak bagi Duit Raya?
Lupa bawa Oyatsu Raya?
Sonnano kankei nei… sonnano kankei nei… sonnano kankei nei.. opappi!*

Malam raya – in between cajoling them to go to sleep, I made some last-minute alterations on Huzaifah’s and Humaidi’s baju melayu. Both boys were not feeling well; I took Huzaifah to the clinic two days before Raya and Humaidi a day before Raya. They were both down with cold and it really tore me to see them so uncomfortable with their running noses and all the sniffling.

Hubby had received some Eidi ('duit raya' in Urdu?) from those who frequented our mosque, and I thought it would be nice to use some of those Eidi to buy some oyatsu (snack) to be distributed by Sofea Haruka in a’la ‘duit raya’ giving way. So, malam raya was also used to pack Umai Bo, Fujiya Home Pie, ramune candy and chocolate into over thirty individual packets.

But as it happened – we forgot to take those packets with us when we left for the Embassy (by bus, train and another bus), so zannen deshita.

Sibuk nak solat raya?
Kena cari seluar raya?
Sonnano kankei nei… sonnano kankei nei… sonnano kankei nei…opappi!

Met up with Sofea Haruka at Nihombashi eki, about fifteen minutes later than my original promise (despite having been in Japan for two years now, I still have trouble sometimes adjusting my ‘Malaysian time’) but Sofea herself was also running late, so she didn’t have to wait too long before boarding the same train we were on, bound for Shibuya. I smiled upon noticing that Sofea was wearing a blue scarf, almost as if “pakat-pakat aje” because the Raya theme color for my family this year happens to be blue too.

Waiting for Faizly at Shibuya eki

Met up with Faizly (who has written an entertaining entry on our Raya experience on his blog) at Shibuya eki, and he brought the butang baju melayu as per hubby’s request. Sofea said that she was supposed to meet up with another Malaysian – Bazilah(?) – but she asked us to go ahead first and promised to meet up with Sofea at the embassy. We boarded the quite crowded but not yet full small Transee bus bound for Daikanyama. One Nihonjin obasan offered her seat for me (and Humaidi), and while the trip is quite short (Malaysian embassy is near the fourth stop), since both hubby and I only had some Raya cookies with a glass of milk each for breakfast that morning, I was grateful for the offer and took it gladly. Faizly who was holding Huzaifah got a seat soon after that as someone vacated the seat near him.

We reached the Embassy at around 8.05 a.m. hence it was not too crowded yet. Greeted some friends and acquaintances, said hi to a few familiar faces as well as introduced Sofea to some kakak-kakak, before we went down to the makeshift prayer hall on the basement, for takbir Raya.

I let Huzaifah roamed the ladies praying hall to his heart’s content, but soon, more and more people arrived and Huzaifah got bored with playing in the hall, thus he started venturing outside. And not long after that he started climbing the stairs going to the first floor. And came down again. And up he went. And down he came. Again and again and again.

At that very moment, Humaidi needed a diaper change, so I quickly changed his diaper and handed him over to Kak Normah who was sitting in front of me, seeking her help to feed Humaidi while I went to look for Huzaifah who was by then no longer in sight.

Huzaifah was playing on his own on the first floor, looking okay except that he was not wearing his pants, only his spats (that’s what leggings are called in Japan). Fortunately his spats are also blue in color, so at least he’s quite covered from immediately displaying his Mami Poko diaper pants, featuring Lilo and Stitch. I tried looking for his seluar Raya but could not find it anywhere. I was so frantic that I even asked Redha’s wife, who was manning the Raya buffet dishes, to alert me if someone found a blue seluar Raya in Huzaifah’s size.

Taken before Huzaifah began his up and down adventure and lost his pants

Just then, the takbir ended and solat raya was about to begin. So I re-joined the congregation, and let Huzaifah be on his own for a while. Before anyone started yelling what an irresponsible parent I am down my throat, let me assure you that Huzaifah was being watched by many acquaintances. One of the thing that comes with being an Ustaz’s son is being known by so many people. And I really did not want to miss this solat Raya because I have no idea when will I get a chance to do so in the future (since I will return to Malaysia next year and might not find a helper to look after my kids, thus might not be able to perform solat raya as part of a jemaah for many years to come). Anyway, I purposely sat at one end of the saf, so that I could put down Humaidi for a while when I prayed. As people stood to form the safs, Sofea joined others next to her, ending with praying right at the first saf for ladies. I was a bit worried because she had never prayed solat sunat Eid before, but alhamdulillah, she managed it well.

Right after the solat ended, I left the prayer hall once again, yet on another hunt for Huzaifah’s missing seluar Raya. After checking and rechecking every nook and cranny of the first floor, I went down to the basement, and noticed a piece of cloth which suspiciously resembled a pair of child’s baju melayu pants at the back of the male prayer hall’s door. Alhamdulillah, it was indeed Huzaifah’s missing seluar Raya. (I did not know it at that time; hubby later told me that Encik Zakri had alerted him of Huzaifah's pants whereabouts, but he thought of waiting until after solat raya ended, khutbah and all, before attending to Huzaifah. But then again, nobody tugged at his telekong saying "Eh, seluar anak tu dah melorot tadi, dah hilang!") After putting it back on Huzaifah, I asked Hanis for help - to accompany Huzaifah upstairs, maybe let him have some cookies or something. I knew the makan time hadn’t started yet – but I had a feeling that most people wouldn’t mind letting kids having some cookies ahead of time.

Makan ayam di pagi raya?
Buat semua terkena diarrhea?
Sonnano kankei nei.. sonnano kankei nei… sonnano kankei nei… opappi!

The end of khutbah raya marked the beginning of a long queue for the Raya buffet on the first floor. I let Sofea joined her peers – the way a mother will let her teenager hang out with her peers – for makan-makan session, partly because I didn’t want to join the long queue. Apparently Sofea had known quite a handful of Malaysians – those she met in Otsuka Mosque as well as at Asakusa Mosque, so she was rarely in shortage of company. I am happy to note that she was approached by many too – girls about her age who were curious about her ‘reversion’.

While waiting for the queue to grow shorter, I attended to Humaidi while Huzaifah was attended to by several kouhais – Hanis, Linda and the gang. Arigatou ne adik-adik… I lost count of how many plates filled with Raya cookies/cakes, Hershey’s Kisses and grapes we finished while waiting to get our proper Raya food – nasi himpit, nasi beriani, ayam masak merah, kuah dalca, and bits of rendang daging (we were among the last to be served). However Huzaifah was keener on eating pudding and other sweets.

With Ustaz Jamali, who led the Solat Sunat Raya that morning (thank you for bringing Islamic pamphlets in Nihongo all the way from Malaysia) and Brother Ibrahim from Senegal who lives in Kita Senju

With Dato' Radzi - one of the nicest and most down-to-earth Ambassadors around

I took turn with Faizly (and the gang, including Fazu) in taking care of Huzaifah and Humaidi while I mingled around, sometimes taking opportunity to introduce Sofea to more people, not unlike the way a mother sometimes interrupted her children to introduce them to family friends and relatives at Raya open house. Sofea was especially happy to be introduced to other Japanese Muslims or Malaysians married to Japanese Muslim, such as Kak Pah and Kak Hani. I chanced upon meeting Aini-san, a Japanese who reverted to Islam 3 years ago and have been married to a Malaysian the past 1 ½ year in the ladies, and introduced Sofea to her. Then we met another Japanese Muslim, Maimunah-san, a friend of Dr. Ina, just before we left the Embassy to go to Nihon Muslim Kyokai. Sofea seemed really delighted to meet them – to find similar souls in the midst of hundreds of aliens (pun intended – that’s what foreigners in Japan are called – aliens).

Ayah, Ujai and Akif - all clad in sedondon baju melayu

Makan-makan Raya - notice the almost untouched ayam masak merah in Sofea's plate?

Gambar ramai-ramai meriah-meriah - dengan ucapan, "Cik Kieli jangan lupa hantar no keitai ye"

I didn’t quite realize it until much later, but some people started having diarrhea that very afternoon which was highly likely caused by some mazui ayam masak merah. When we had ours, it tasted okay, but some confessed that theirs were downright ‘basi’. Sofea happened to be one of the earliest to suffer diarrhea, since she started going to the ladies even before we left the Embassy. Fendi and Lia in Tsukuba shared a hilarious story about how members of their small rombongan had to split at various eki along the Yamanote line on their way from Shibuya to Akihabara before everyone finally re-assembled at Akihabara. Kak Hani reported in her Raya entry that the toilet queue at the Embassy staff’s residence (where Open House was held right after the makan-makan at the Embassy ended) resembled a public toilet queue during a concert; a comparison I could truly relate to. By pure chance I once went to Tokyo Dome a few hours before a concert started and the queue at the public toilet was terribly long that I wished I didn’t need to use it so urgently… kalau budak kecik dah terburai dah…

With Husna and her two ASEAN friends - the girl in pink from Myanmar, the other in satin-lacy blue outfit (which looks good enough to pass for an engagement/wedding outfit in Malaysia) is from Thailand

With Aini-san, who has been a Muslim for three years and married to a Malaysian now. Unlike Sofea who for now only wears hijab occasionally, Aini-san wears hers constantly

Anyway, while Sofea later confessed that she got diarrhea on the first day of Eid which continued until the second day, she also insisted that she had no regret of joining us because she truly enjoyed celebrating Eid with us. Honestly Kak Aini, we understand that the incident was neither planned nor anticipated, but well, sometimes things like this just happen… We thank you and everyone else who formed part of the makan-makan committee for cooking all those delicious food (notwithstanding the unpleasant ayam masak merah). There would be one huge gap in our Raya celebration if not for the Raya buffet at the Embassy, so again, arigatou gozaimashita. (Personally I didn’t cook any Raya food until the fourth Syawal, when I cooked rendang ayam to go with some left over nasi himpit we ‘tapau’ed from Fendi and Lia’s place.)

Beraya di Malaysia, dijamu ketupat nasi
Beraya di Jepun dijamu sushi?
Sonnano kankei nei… sonnano kankei nei… sonnano kankei nei… opappi!

Like many others, we got three invitations for Open House from Encik Zakri (on Level 5 of the Malaysian Embassy staff residence apartment), Encik Jasri (Level 4) and Redha (Level 3). However, instead of heading straight to Kami Meguro; Faizly, Sofea and my family joined a few other friends going to Nihon Muslim Kyokai aka JMA (Japan Muslim Association) in a Honda Civic driven by Syahril and a Volvo driven by ‘Ustaz’ Fahmi. Syahril was with his pregnant wife Zetty and 2-year old daughter Nuha while Fahmi was accompanied by Yasser, whose wife, Ijan, had to do a happyou (presentation) that day, so no prize for guessing who got a lift on the nice Volvo. Not that I am not grateful – a ride on any car is almost a luxury here in Tokyo and Sofea was certainly pleased when Zetty told her that we would be going to Yoyogi by car.

It was Sofea’s and my family’s first trip to JMA, and if I were asked to find the place on my own, I might not be able to do so. It is not far from Yoyogi eki, but it is situated in a mansion (apartment as known in Japan) block, instead of an office block as I expected, and there was no real hint of its location as one enters the ground floor. We were led by Syahril and Zetty who had been there on several occasions previously.

We were greeted by a roomful of smiling guests, mostly Japanese (okay, two roomful since the guests were segregated by gender). There was no mistaking the increased cheerfulness in Sofea’s face and disposition upon meeting so many Japanese muslims. There was a handful of non Muslims present too, some postgraduate students who were trying to investigate a small part of Muslims in Japan lifestyle regarding medical care. We were each asked to complete a questionnaire, but since it was written in Nihonggo, I refrained from taking part. I thought of completing it there and then with Sofea’s assistance (as translator) but seeing she was busy chatting and making friends, I chose to simply refrain from answering the questionnaire.

Each new arrival were quickly served a plate of rice cooked a’la Arabian style with some sort of curry, Japanese style pumpkin and vegetable salad. Sofea’s eyes practically lighted up when we were offered other food on the main table as she was eyeing a tray of various kinds of sushi. She asked for an ikura sushi, and I followed suit. Ikura (salmon roe) is among my all-time favorite sushi, along with ama ebi (sweet prawn) anago (sea eel) and sake (salmon). But having just eaten all those Malaysian food, somehow eating sushi did not sit well with me that day. Since everyone else had had their share, Sofea and Maimunah-san (who arrived later than us since she took public transport) enjoyed the left over sushi to their hearts’ content, leaving me questioning myself why couldn’t I enjoy sushi the way I normally do on this Eid?

Maimunah-san is in yellow baju kurung sitting next to Zetty who was holding her daughter Nuha. 1 Syrian, 1 Indonesian, 2 Malaysians and the rest are all Nihonjin

Anyway, I enjoyed chatting with several obachan (aunts) there, who also volunteered to look after Humaidi while I ate. I normally meet up younger Muslim reverts, and seldom get a chance to meet Muslim reverts in their golden age. It was interesting asking the obachan their experience of performing Hajj, of going to other Muslim countries to learn more about Islam. One obachan in particular was wearing baju kurung and Malaysian tudung bawal, bought when she went to Malaysia in May. Dr Ida’s friend, Maimunah-san was also wearing baju kurung and Malaysian style tudung. I half teasingly asked Sofea if she would like to wear baju kurung next Eid, to which she half seriously answered, yes, if it is possible to get one for her. (Hmm, maybe I should try to get her a pair just like I did for Chloe, my friend from Mainland China, back when I was in Leeds)

Yasser, hubby, Syahril, Fahmi and one ojichan in JMA kitchen area

The JMA organizes classes on Islam and Arabic in Nihonggo. One JMA sensei was present then, a Nihonjin named Abu Hakeem, is fluent in Arabic, so hubby had no problem communicating with him. Abu Hakeem is trying to encourage more Nihonjin who has reverted or plans to revert to Islam to register with JMA, so that JMA could function better. He believes that since JMA’s committee members comprise mostly ethnic Japanese members, they would be able to better relate and understand situations faced by most new Japanese Muslim reverts. Besides, a revert needs to search for more knowledge than a born Muslim but there seems little induction courses offered for new Muslims in Japan. So JMA tries to fill this gap by introducing systematic and consistent induction program for new reverts.

Faizly, Yatagaya-san, Abu Hakeem sensei and hubby

Berhati-hati di jalan raya?
Berhati-hati masa beraya?
Sonnano kankei nei… sonnano kankei nei… sonnano kankei nei… opappi!

We left JMA after solat Asar, and headed over to Malaysian Embassy staff residence in Kami Meguro. Fahmi whose Volvo is equipped with GPS navigator was asked to lead the way, but we noticed that he missed a turn in Naka Meguro, so Syahril took charge instead, asking Fahmi to follow his lead instead. We arrived at Kak Aini and Encik Zakri’s place at around 4.45 p.m., long after most of their guests had left. Since I had to take care of both Huzaifah and Humaidi at the JMA while everyone else prayed Asar, I had to pray Asar at Kak Aini’s place.

Then, I had the pleasure of introducing Sofea to my favorite dish – laksa. To my delight, Sofea took an instant liking to laksa, repeatedly saying “oishii, oishii” like she could not get enough of it.

I had only been to Kak Aini’s place once before and that at night, so I honestly thought that her balcony were all surrounded by railings. Hence I thought it would be okay to let Huzaifah loose on the balcony, after being quite restricted at the JMA. What I did not anticipate was a gap of railings due to a small staircase, which I only realized was there when Din, Tini’s JICA friend alerted me that Huzaifah was tiptoeing on the edge of balcony, on the outer side of the railings. When I saw the area where Din picked Huzaifah up, my legs went all wobbly, thinking “Ya Allah, kalaulah terjatuh, all the way from the fifth floor…”, yet refused to finish that thought, grateful instead that nothing bad happened. Things could change from good to bad in a second and I am thankful that Allah protected us from any unbecoming incident that blessed Eid.

I took extra care to note the where about of my ever active son there after. Despite being busy with entertaining more important guests (Dato’ Ambassador and Mrs arrived just as I was chatting with some friends), somehow Kak Aini noted that I was not eating much apart from the laksa. The truth is I totally lost my appetite after Huzaifah’s-tiptoeing-on- fenceless-balcony-edge incident. Just before we left Kak Aini’s house, she asked Tuti her helper to pack some nasi minyak and rendang for me to take home, since I was not eating much, having to watch over my son.

I thanked Tuti – for all her hardwork on that day as well as for taking care of Huzaifah the last time we visited Kak Aini. Tuti said that she likes Huzaifah because he “tak kacau orang” and he doesn’t cry easily. A lot of kids would cry in protest if someone tries to hinder them from doing something, but in Huzaifah’s case, whenever Tuti tried to stop him from doing something (playing with electrical appliances, for an instance), he would just turn his attention to something else. “Saya suka anak kakak,” Tuti said matter-of-factly, which both surprised and pleased me, since I am quite used to people complaining about how “lasak” my son is.

Beraya untuk penuhi undangan?
Beraya untuk eratkan hubungan?
Sonnano kankei nei… sonnano kankei nei… sonnano kankei nei… opappi!

Next we went down to Encik Jasri’s house, just to fulfill his invitation rather than for Kak Linda’s famous mee kuah. We were all full anyway; Sofea in fact commented that she believed she had lost her waistline due to all the feasting that day. Not too full that we could not accommodate a glass of sirap ros each though.

Among the last of Encik Jasri's Eid guests. Huzaifah in baju melayu and spats, seluar raya dah basah...

We left Encik Jasri’s house by 6.30 p.m. and decided to give Redha’s invitation a pass. Syahril and Zetty agreed to take Sofea with them and sent her to a Tozai line eki on their way back to Myoden. I chatted with Sofea while waiting for Syahril and Fahmi to get their respective car, asking what she thought of her first Eid celebration. It had been a long day with a lot of ‘first time’s for Sofea.

“This is one of the best memories I ever had in my life!” she exclaimed.

To complete her list of ‘first time’s, I decided on impulse to give her 1000 yen just before we departed; explaining as I did that it is a Malaysian custom for adults to give ‘duit raya’ to kids, and while Sofea is no longer a child, she is a new Muslim, so it is okay for her to receive duit raya too.

“Are you serious?,” she was a bit hesitant in receiving the 1000 yen note. “I am not that new, I have been a Muslim for eight months now,” she continued.

“Take it – I am serious. And you are still a new Muslim to me” I insisted, and strongly backed by Faizly and Zetty who encouraged Sofea to accept her first duit raya ever.

So we finally bid farewell, as she joined Syahril and Zetty while I finally got a lift on Fahmi’s cozy and luxurious Volvo. After sending Faizly to Shibuya eki, Fahmi and Yasser sent us back to Asakusa. Hubby was so tired that he napped in the car almost throughout our journey home. I dozed on and off in the car, since Humaidi was not really asleep yet.

Right after we arrived home, I changed the kids’ diapers, changed them into their pyjamas and put them to sleep, myself going to sleep in the process. But the night was still young – as we received our very own first Eid guests later that night.

Syah and his family brought along Zakiah and family to visit us. Not for makan-makan, but purely for beraya in its old day spirit – when open house is not limited to certain specified day and hours, but one’s friends and relatives are free to knock on the door anytime convenient to them and the tuan rumah is in. I kind of miss that spirit of ‘open house’ now so it was really nice to have our very first Eid guests that night although we only served them some chai and Raya cookies (plus Raya oyatsu for the kids – remember the packets I forgot to bring with us to the Embassy?)

All in all – this too had been one of the best Raya memories I ever had, opappi or otherwise.

Note: * Refers to a phrase popularized by Kojima Yoshio, a top Japanese entertainer (in 2007 anyway, and he earns about 820 times more than what he earned last year) who used to be a student of Waseda University.

Niigata City Masjid Project

This one goes out especially to Muslims in Japan.

Our Muslim brothers and sisters in Niigata are now seeking financial assistance to buy a house meant to be used as a masjid.

The Muslim community there have already identified a suitable house for this purpose, priced at 15,000,000 yen. They have so far managed to collect about 11,000,000 yen and in need of additional 4,000,000 yen.

Reasons for needing a place of their own?
They used to rent a room, but it was too small for everyone to get together.
What makes it even more urgent is that the neighbors have started to complain about the crowd and the 'noise' during Jumu'ah, tarawih and daily solat, thus they had been asked to vacant the room the soonest possible. These reasons are often quoted in many other areas, including in Yokohama when they decided to create their own mosque.

In line with the hadith "Whoever builds a mosque, desiring thereby Allāh's pleasure, Allāh builds for him the like of it in paradise", I humbly urge all who could, to please donate to:

Postal account name: Annu-ru Bunkakai (アンヌール文化会 )
Number: 11210 - 30179871

Bank account name: Annu-ru (アンヌール)
Bank: Daishi Bank (第四銀行)
Branch: Uchino (内野支店)
Branch Number: 237
Account Number: 1315692

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An announcement on behalf of Asakusa Mosque:

There will be a talk by Al-Ustaz Wafdi, a Penangite who used to study in Syria, on Saturday 20 October 2006, after maghrib, (around 5.00 p.m.). The talk will be delivered in Bahasa Malaysia insya Allah. All are invited.

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Psst psst... I am still working on that Raya entry. Osokunachatte, gomen ne...

Call for doa and more...

This one goes out especially for my fellow schoolmates who might not be aware yet of a collection meant for our senior Mr D who is suffering with cancer in the UK, initiated by SMAWP Class of 86 people. His wife, Kak D, is our senior from SMAP Class of 89, and used to be kakak garang in my dorm.

Spring 2007

Eid 1428

This is a chance for us to do more, insya Allah, to relieve the burden of the family apart from continuously making do'a for them. So, please go here for more details...

I am no preacher - but haven't we been advised to prioritise our relatives and closer ones in giving charity? I have forgotten the hadith on that - but here's another one that might be worthy for a pause to reflect

Narrated Abu Musa Al-Ash'ari:

The Prophet said, "On every Muslim there is enjoined (a compulsory) Sadaqa (alms)." They (the people) said, "If one has nothing?' He said, "He should work with his hands so that he may benefit himself and give in charity." They said, "If he cannot work or does not work?" He said, "Then he should help the oppressed unhappy person (by word or action or both)." They said, "If he does not do it?" He said, "Then he should enjoin what is good (or said what is reasonable).' They said, "If he does not do that''' He said, "Then he should refrain from doing evil, for that will be considered for Him as a Sadaqa (charity) . "


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Psst psst... post on Raya coming soon, insya Allah.

This Ramadhan..

Three new Muslimat in one month, alhamdulillah.
None of our accomplishments, of course since hidayah/guidance is Allah's work and Allah's work alone - but I am grateful for we had been chosen to be here to facilitate the syahadah ceremonies...

The first was a Japanese girl, intending to marry a Pakistani guy. That was on the night of 17 Ramadhan, Nuzul Quran. I was not feeling well that particular day, and at first was a bit disgruntled、wondering why do people choose to get married in Ramadhan. But well, I guess the girl wanted to make her first ‘reversion’ to Islam extra special by proclaiming syahadah in Ramadhan, then so be it. Alhamdulillah, as it happened, Hafiizh and Jan from Ibaraki were visiting us that evening, so Hafiizh acted as the Bahasa Melayu - Nihonggo interpreter for hubby as he conducted the syahadah and nikah ceremony that night.

The second girl is a Mongolian, currently studying in Niigata. She first proclaimed her syahadah in June, but she wanted to make it official, with proper witnesses and all, so that there will be no dispute of her true religion if she were to die. Faizly had written an entry about her conversion as he was acting as one of the witnesses that day. Undrakh-san was born Buddhist, converted to Christian on 2^nd October 2004, and three years and 4 days later, on 6^th October 2007, officially became a Muslim. She came to this mosque accompanied by three friends – 2 Japanese and 1 Indonesian - who also witnessed her ‘official’ syahadah ceremony which was conducted by hubby in Malay with me acting as the English interpreter. She came ready with a new Muslim name – Nurul Hidayah binti Abdullah, claiming that the beautiful name (Guiding Light) was given by her room-mate’s father. Her two Nihonjin friends – Mariam-san and Sofea Haruka-san were a bit puzzled by the use of ‘binti Abdullah’, so I explained that ‘binti Abdullah’ is used sometimes for new reverts with non-Muslim parents, as is commonly practiced in certain Muslim countries like Malaysia. Undrakh aka Nurul Hidayah quickly concurred, admitting that her room-mate, Najmiah, comes from Malaysia.

And yesterday, a pregnant girl came from Chiba for her syahadah ceremony, conducted by Brother Selim from Islamic Cultural Center of Kyoto, with hubby and brother Uthman, an Indian national who is currently doing his iktiqaf in this mosque, acting as witnesses. She chose Muna as her Muslim name; happy that she had chosen to be a Muslim before she gave birth, as she intends to give birth to a Muslim child. “What about her husband?,” I asked hubby, since I had to give Muna’s syahadah ceremony a miss due to my class schedule. He shrugged – brother Selim did not tell him much of his dealings with Muna and all their conversation was in Nihonggo that hubby did not understand. I pray that Muna will not be alone in her 'reversion'...

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It has indeed been quite a memorable Ramadhan. (and not only because I have forgotten to ask for a set of butang baju melayu to be included in the family sedondon baju raya package from Malaysia, and thus now wonder if I could get to borrow a set of 5 butang baju melayu from anyone...)

Hubby is planning to join Syahril and Zetty going to the Eid party organized by Nihon Muslim Kyokai (Japanese Muslim Association), bringing with us Sofea Haruka who had only seemed happy that we had invited her along for Eidul Fitri gathering at the Malaysian embassy. Hubby and I have decided to sort of ‘adopt’ Sofea Haruka. I want her first Eid to be something she can remember fondly in years to come – as one where she would not be left standing alone while others surrounding her happily (or sobbingly) kiss and hug their parents, friends, spouses or kids. She deserves a good Eid – after all this is only her first Ramadhan but she had never intentionally missed fasting, even on those days when she missed waking up for sahur.

It is easy to fall in love with Sofea Haruka. Although she confessed that she hasn’t found the courage to put on hijab daily, she came to the mosque properly attired – in normal Nihonjin youngster outfit – jeans, long sleeved top, flowy sleeveless dress - topped with a long Indian veil as her hijab. She is a refreshing sight. While more and more born Muslims are abandoning Islamic rituals, she is fast learning and practicing them. Already she has memorized all the major readings in solat and 6 short surahs from the Quran. She attends class regularly at Otsuka Mosque, and tries hard to fulfill her obligations as Muslim. Everything about Islam is fascinating to her. In fact, her hunger for knowledge about Islam was part of the reason she chose Egypt as her destination to spend her last summer holiday. Touring while absorbing and observing how Islam is being practiced in a Muslim country. (To be honest, I am partially relieved that she did not chose Malaysia – I am afraid she might be shocked to see born Muslims behaving in un-Islamic manners…)

This Eid, with Sofea Haruka by my side, I hope to introduce her to the joy of Eid not merely as the feast of breaking fast, but also as a familial gathering. She might not be able to celebrate Eid with her parents just yet, but she has other family now, starting with us…

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Selamat menyambut kemenangan mujahadah sebulan Ramadhan
May we be blessed and protected by Allah always.

Call for more do'a

My chat with Gee yesterday made me thought long and hard.

We both knew about the test which is faced by Kak D, our senior at school now. Her husband had recently been diagnosed with cancer while they are in the UK, away from home. We both have been making a lot of do'a for her husband’s quick recovery and for her and her family to be able to hang tough during this difficult moment. But I thought there must be something more I could do to help lessen Kak D’s burden in some way…

So, here’s urging my fellow readers – especially my ex-schoolmate – to also help making more do'a for Kak D’s husband's recovery (he is also our ex-schoolmate), for her and her family…

It’s not much, I know. But I’m hoping that do'a made by friends – do'a sahabat – especially in this holy Ramadhan , could be more mustajab… Aamiinnn

Confession of an ex-7-year-old-runaway

The world of parents could be really vicious.
Not only it’s full of competitive parents; (“Mine already memorizes ABCs, knows her numbers, perfectly potty trained, and she’s only 2!” claimed one and the other would quickly chip in “Oooh wonderful, but mine could spell and had a vocabulary of 300 words even before he was 2”)
it’s full of those pinpointing others’ weaknesses.

“Their son is terrible, terrible. He is an accident waiting to happen. Didn’t you know that he almost fell into the big pot of curry in our neighbor’s kitchen when they were visiting last Raya? Not once, but twice! Imagine him in our home, with all our crystals. What horrors!”

“Didn’t you know that their 4 year old stopped a car by standing in the middle of the road? What were they thinking not locking him up properly in the house?”

“Has the boy no shame, still insisting being breastfed when he’s what, almost 4? Shouldn’t she started weaning him off ages ago?”

“She asked her maid to do her 12 year old daughter period-stained laundry. The girl should be taught how to get it done herself. Berdosa orang lain basuh darah haid dia.”

“Their kids need to learn more discipline. They came in, caused a ruckus and they left without apologizing at all. Look at all those stains on our sofa, the spills on the floor and the eldest almost broke our standing lamp. And the parents never said a thing to stop them at all!”

Oh yes, it’s easy to gossip about other kids, other parents.
It’s easy to point out their weaknesses, easy to say that they should be doing this or that.
I guess that‘s why the top choice for an online poll regarding almarhumah Nurin Jazlin’s case in Utusan Malaysia recently was one which could imply that her parents had been rather careless all these while. Despite feeling sorry for the parents, a friend believed that they were partly to be blamed for the tragedy – what were they thinking letting an 8-year old on her own going to the pasar malam? A tabloid was crueler – implying that the poor kid had been kidnapped due to the father’s dealing with Ah Long. These two allegations were untrue, of course – haven’t we been reminded again and again not to believe everything written in the newspaper? Go read the blog by the late girl’s uncle to get the honest truth… Al-fatihah for almarhumah Nurin…

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Anyway, I am with those who call for public to stop criminalizing parents for negligence. Accidents could happen to anyone - and people in glass houses should not throw stone. This world we live in now is becoming more and more selfish with each passing day. When I was eight, I could wander alone after school, went to the shop alone, with not much care. Chances are – people passing by would recognize me as cucu Hj Hassan (I used to stay with my grandparents until I was 9). If they saw me or my friends doing something unbecoming – like eating rambutan on someone else’s tree – they would call out – “Hoi, dok buat apa tu? Aku habaq kat ayah/ tok wan hang sat ni…” and I/we would lintang pukang climbed down and ran away. Society used to play an active role in being a child’s caretaker.

So was the role of being a child’s protector – if they saw a group of children playing in dangerous area – the canal for example, unsupervised – then an adult passing by on a motorbike would stop and warned us to go home. On the other hand, they wouldn’t hesitate for a second to jump in the canal if they suspect that a child might be drowning. No decent neighbor would give a mother uncaring blank look like this blogger received when her child almost drowned in a public pool.

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Close friends of mine might have heard of the ‘adventure’ I had as a 7 year old runaway. Not that I was seriously thinking of leaving my home for good. It just so happened that very morning Ayah had taken my younger brother out without taking me too, so I made up my mind to join them at the “Rest House”, their supposed destination I overheard when Ayah was talking on the phone. Ayah left in early morning, so mid morning, while I was supposed to be playing with my youngest brother at the front porch, I slipped quietly, leaving my 2 year old brother on his own. Yes, I was reckless, and that was very irresponsible, so kids, please do not try this at home.

So I began walking one of the longest walk I ever took. I was in Kampung Syed Syeh, Kelang Lama, (which was closer to Lunas than to Kulim) hoping to reach the Rest House in Bukit Mertajam by walking. I thought surely the “Rest House” Ayah mentioned in his phone conversation was the one in Bukit Mertajam, where he sometimes brought us to for dinner since Kulim back in the 80s was rather small and had nothing much to offer in term of good makan place. I thought I knew the way and it wasn’t that difficult – the route from Kulim to Bukit Mertajam back then was mostly a long, long stretch of rubber plantations. Kelang Lama to Kulim itself was not that near. By the time I reached Kulim town, it was getting hotter and humid. I paced evenly, sometimes skipping so as to make the journey faster.

I walked on and on until I reached the junction going to Junjung – people familiar with Kulim would know it as the junction where one turn to go to Kolej Mara Kulim (MRSM Kulim back then) when one pakcik on a bicycle asked me – where was I going. I answered that I was going to the Rest House in Bukit Mertajam, to meet up with my Ayah. “Awat tak naik bas?,” the pakcik asked me. No money, I answered, “Dah makan?,” he further enquired. Not yet – and I began to realize that I was turning hungry just that very moment.

That pakcik asked me to hop on the back of his bike and he cycled back home. I had lunch with him and his wife – I couldn’t remember what I had, but I remember the lunch to be ‘sedap’. After praying Zohor, pakcik took me on his bike and cycled to Kulim, to the police station. I sat on a bench while he lodged a police report, and then a lanky abang polis in plain clothes came to me and asked a few questions – where was I going, who was I going to meet, why did I want to walk all the way to Bukit Mertajam. I concocted some story about meeting my Ayah in Bukit Mertajam, that I am used to go to Bukit Mertajam on my own or something along that line.

It so happened that the particular lanky abang polis was going to Bukit Mertajam himself, so he thanked the pakcik for bringing me to the police station and assured him that they would take care of me from then on. I salam the pakcik and he gave me 1 ringgit. 1 ringgit at that time was a lot for a 7 year old – what more coming from a pakcik who was living in a simple hut. I took it, thanked him for the lunch, the money and kirim salam to makcik.

So, next - adventure with abang polis. He took my hand and walked with me to the bus station where we boarded a bus to Bukit Mertajam. “Adik berapa tahun?”, he asked, and I answered 6 – too afraid that if I told him the truth – 7 - then he would ask me where my school was and might follow up with more questions and I would be returning home to Kampung Syed Syeh instead of going to Bukit Mertajam. He asked me a few other stuff – what does my father do, why do I have to meet him in Bukit Mertajam instead of him picking me up in Kulim etc etc etc. But for most part of the journey, I was not really paying attention to abang polis’s queries as I was more interested in looking out the bus window, because it was my first time ever boarding a public bus to Bukit Mertajam and the scenery sure looked different from the ones I usually viewed in Ayah’s car.

The bus journey ended all too soon when the next thing I knew, we were stopping right in front of the Rest House. And my heart started to beat doubly harder than usual. My palms started to get clammy when I noticed that Ayah’s car was nowhere to be seen in the Rest House’s compound. Right after we entered the Rest House together, Abang polis asked the girl behind the Registration counter if anyone was registered under my Ayah’s name. Nope. I pulled on his pants – let’s go check the restaurant, and so we went to the Rest House’s café. But like I miserably suspected when I saw Ayah’s car was not in the parking lot – there was no trace of Ayah or my brother there. Abang polis was getting to be more concerned – but hey, right then he bumped onto a higher police officer in the café.

So they re-interrogated me – my name, my father’s name, my father’s occupation, my address. I told them that my Ayah worked in Bagan (Butterworth, as known to oghang utagha), but instead of a contractor, I told them that my father was an inspector. And it happened that there was one Inspector Baharom working in Butterworth, which they traced by making phone calls from the café.

But alas Inspector Baharom’s kids were all a lot older than a scruffy 7 year old girl. "No, she’s not mine", he told the two police officers who were obviously getting to be more ruffled.

“Adik, kita balik Kulim naa,” abang polis said softly, to which I nodded my agreement. It was no fun anymore – all the way to Bukit Mertajam and Ayah was not in sight. I was getting scared too – thinking of the punishment Ayah would lay down for me. Rotan, ketuk ketampi, no duit sekolah, the works. We went back to Kulim on the senior officer’s Alfa Romeo. I remembered thinking how stiff the cushion was compared to the comfy seat in my Ayah’s battered Mercedes. And the car perfume was too strong – perhaps to conceal the smell of cigarette which it failed miserably. I was familiar with the smell of 555 cigarettes, which used to be my late Tok Ayah’s choice. I was quiet most of the journey back to Kelang Lama, until they reached Sekolah Sultan Badlishah and asked for direction to my house.

I was too afraid to lead them back to my house, so I showed them the way to my neighbor’s house. Remember – I lived in a kampong where a neighbor is not quite next door as in modern taman perumahan. My neighbor, upon being asked by the policemen if they recognize me, quickly pointed to my grandparents house – “ni cucu Hj Hassan…”. So we went back in the car and they finally sent me to the right place where I belonged.

The two policemen went out of the car first, as I began to slump as lowly as possible on the stiff seat. It wasn’t long before Tok Ayah came to the window to identify me. He yelled at me. The first – and only – time he ever scolded me. My gentle Tok Ayah who had never hit me or raised his voice at me – was looking terribly furious at that time. I quickly dashed out of the car, and ran to my room, locking myself in. Clutching tightly the 1 ringgit note given by the pakcik earlier, I suddenly regretted venturing out that morning. I was scared, I was exhausted and I cried myself to sleep.

The caning came as I deserved it. For leaving my baby brother on his own. For not telling my grandparents that I was going out. For venturing out alone – who knows what dangers were out there? I could have been kidnapped and sold! What was I thinking?

It turned out that Ayah took my brother to see a child specialist in Penang, agreeing to meet my biological mother in the Rest House in Penang first before going to the clinic together. They never went to Bukit Mertajam at all – I merely assumed they would, because the one Rest House I was familiar with was the one in Bukit Mertajam where Ayah sometimes took us for a beefsteak treat. They were not taking my brother out alone for a fun trip, but rather a medical treatment. I didn’t know that my brother was seriously ill at that time – that they needed to operate on his bone marrow or something.

No, I still don’t know what I was thinking back then, intending to walk all the way from Kelang Lama to Bukit Mertajam. Sometimes, as we drove along the stretch I walked from Kelang Lama to the Junjung junction, I wondered myself – from where did I got the energy to walk that far? Looking back, I guess it’s only Allah’s miraculous protection that keep anything bad from happening to me at all. So many things could have gone wrong. I could have been kidnapped and be sold, I could have met with an accident, I could have been lost and never found my way back.

What happened that day – it was not due to my guardian’s negligence. But the fact that I was returned safely to my family – was contributed by good people; the pakcik, the abang polis, the senior police officer, my neighbor.

Back in the days when "mendidik anak seorang" really involved "sekampung"…

Of two people with high self-esteem

There’s much could be said of people with high self esteem.

The week before last, I attended my friends’ graduation ceremony. Yes, I was impressed (and tumpang bangga) with Daud who topped the Dean’s List as well as acted as the Class of 2007’s valedictorian (a role usually reserved for Japanese student, or so claimed Pokcik who had attended 5 graduation ceremonies previously but had never witnessed any non-Japanese valedictorian until last week). Daud worked hard, and it came as no surprise to see him maintaining 4.0 CGPA from his first semester until the end.

On the other hand, I was equally impressed with Masa-san – who entered Waseda the same time with Daud, but did not graduate.

So, well, what is so impressive with someone who did not earn enough credits to graduate, then, huh?

I did not know Masa-san before this, but I was impressed that despite his failure to graduate, he attended the graduation ceremony, taking time to celebrate his friends’ successes and congratulated them in person.

“Kalau kita, mesti tak datang dah. Malu. Tak tau nak jawab apa kalau orang tanya kenapa tak graduate sekali…” a fellow Malaysian confessed.

But not Masa-san. While he showed appreciation for others who graduate, apparently he set another rules for himself. So, he did not graduate, it doesn’t make him any lesser person. Self-esteem is not necessarily built upon the experience of success; it could also be built upon the maturity and acceptance of oneself. He was there for his friends, he was okay with his own 'failure' and if there are people who found his presence puzzling, then so be it. He had no problem with it. Not graduating after two years doesn’t hinder him from standing tall and keep smiling.

That was really impressive.

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The other day, I was cycling home when I chanced upon a girl riding a jinriki-sha (rickshaw). Tourists riding jinriki-sha, pulled by a man such as this ojisan is a common sight in Asakusa, but there are a lot of younger, lithe, good looking (and English speaking) jinriki-sha pullers around. As it was during the obon season, and a lot of people were on natsu yasumi (summer holiday), there were an increase of tourists sightseeing on jinriki-sha then.

It seemed as though the girl, in her twenties clad in a nice yukata, might be flirting with her jinriki-sha puller, an attractive guy in his twenties. It doesn’t matter that she belongs to the plus size. Not merely in ‘size-12-is-fat’ plus size, but rather closer to celebrity Murakami Tomoko’s size, almost double the size of her jinriki-sha puller. But at that particular moment, it appeared as if her size mattered little, if at all – she was smiling happily, bantering merrily, occasionally giggling – all in all, clearly enjoying herself.

That was quite a memorable sight.