The layered me

I have a feeling that this tag was started by an adolescent. It’s rather obvious isn’t it, what with questions on having crush, going to school, age to get married, yadda yadda… But hey, who says tags have to be perfect? So dear Theta, here’s my answer to your tag…

Layer One: On the Outside
Name: Azra Haida. Formal name Azra. Casual name A.Z. (as in ae zack, not ae zee). Kak/Kak Eda/Cik Kak to family members. Haida to hubby and some blogging friends in the blogging world.
Birthdate: May 10^th, 1975.
Current status: Married, mother of 2
Eye color: Dark brown. (Hazel during my wedding though)
Hair Color: Black. It’s been ages since I last nicked leftover of Mak’s DIY dye kit.
Righty or Lefty: Righty

Layer Two: On the Inside
My heritage: Malay – Pattani. Ayah is from Kedah with Malay – Pattani blood, my biological mother is a Wan from Perlis with Malay-Pattani blood. If I use Javanese phrases, I got it from Mak.
My fears: Straying from the true path, losing family members unexpectedly, medical operations
My weaknesses: Sleep, procrastinating, teh tarik
My perfect pizza: Used to be Domino’s Chicken Tandoori, then there was a brief spell with Hawaiian Chicken at one small pizza stall in The Store mall, Bukit Rahman Putra, and although I usually order Super Supreme at Pizza Hut, am actually still on the lookout of that perfect pizza…

Layer Three: Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow
My thoughts first thing when I wake up: Dah habis Subuh belum, hah?
My bedtime: Depends on Huzaifah (and Humaidi too sometimes); ranges from 10.30 p.m. to 2.30 a.m.
My most missed memory: Good times in high school and University.

Layer Four: My picks
Pepsi or Coke: I dislike both straight, but don’t mind Vanilla Coke or Pepsi Twist.
McDonald's or Burger King: Used to favor Burger King Vegetarian Whopper back in UK, but it has to be McDonald's in Malaysia
Single or Group Dates: Single
Adidas or Nike: Nike for shoes, Adidas for clothing
Tea or Nestea: Nestea
Chocolate or Vanilla: Chocolate
Cappucino or Coffee: Kopi Kampung, preferably home-made. Otherwise I don’t drink coffee

Layer Five: Do I
Smoke: Never
Curse: Not really, not habitually anyway.
Take a shower: Not as much as I'd like to, since I don’t shower daily here. (Sometimes it’s just way too cold to do so)
Have a crush: Not now, unless Kimutaku counts, heheheh.
Think I've Been In love: I am now.
Go to school: But of course!
Want to get married: Already am.
Believe in myself: Definitely – sometimes adequately, sometimes excessively. Heh.
Think I'm a health freak: Nay

Layer Six: In the past month
Drank alcohol: Never.
Gone to the mall: To buy baby stuff, yes. To shop – or even window shop - for myself, nope, unless you consider a 7-storey 100 yen shop a mall…(no!)
Been on stage: Nope
Eaten Sushi: Yup, when my brother was here
Dyed your hair: Nope

Layer Seven: Have I ever
Played a stripping game: Not yet. Heh (evil grin while batting eyelashes at hubby)
Changed who I am to fit in: Not really. Like I said - I could be overconfident sometimes...

Layer Eight: Age
I am hoping to be married: Was hoping to get married by the age of 30 and did so too, alhamdulillah…

Layer Nine: What was I doing
1 min ago: Talking to hubby
1 hour ago: Feeding Huzaifah
4.5 hours ago: Bathing Humaidi
1 month ago: Resting a lot because Mak was around
1 year ago: Busy packing to move to Asakusa (From Gyotoku)

Layer Ten: Finish The Sentence
I love: reading... Wish I could do more than I am able to right now.
I feel: blessed with what Allah has given me now, even if they are just on ‘loan’
I hate: being blamed when it's not my fault.
I hide: my resentments during crisis and try to look for solutions first.
I need: a long old-fashioned massage from a makcik bidan/tukang urut

Layer Eleven: Tag 5 people
Ok, as adolescent as this is, I hereby pass this on to Dik Ja, K.I., Zyrin, Kit and Kak Pia.

Demam

It started last week, with my brother who was here on a business trip. Unfortunately, for him it was more like a lie-down trip than a real business trip. He arrived in Tokyo from Korea on a Tuesday, already with somewhat high temperature. He and his consultant friend, Encik Aziz (who is almost double my brother’s age) was supposed to form part of Kekkwa’s delegation to Korea and Japan. As it happened, my brother was down with high fever. We even had to take him for an emergency treatment at San Iku Kai Hospital on Wednesday night because by then he was shivering and the thermometer read 39.1 degree Celsius.

He was literally down the next day. He thought he felt better on Thursday evening, so he joined hubby and Encik Aziz for a souvenir shopping trip in Asakusa.

Hubby decided to introduce my brother to Brother Harun in Matsudo (of Taj Mahal restaurant), since it might be an opening for a joint-venture or some trading in the future. As it is, Brother Harun is not only a restaurant owner, but also a trader. My brother too is not limiting his business to merely animation and TV programs production. Anyway – just as they were about to exit the train at Matsudo eki, Encik Aziz noticed that my brother was already numb although his eyes were opened, they were almost lifeless. Hubby and Encik Aziz had to quickly push my brother out of the train, after struggling to release his tight grip on the train handrail. For a while, he was laid down on the floor. When he became conscious again, the station officer asked him to rest for a while at the station’s office, which they all did.

My brother and Encik Aziz at "tempat jatuh lagi dikenang"...

They did had a meeting with Brother Harun after that - treated to a nice dinner and Brother Harun even made some cheese nan and tandoori for hubby to bring back for me and Mak.

Mak prayed that my brother wouldn’t had to extend his stay because it’s quite difficult and very costly for him to receive due medical treatment here since records on his tonsil removal operation recently are all in Malaysia. Alhamdulillah, by Friday morning, the day my brother and Encik Aziz were scheduled to return to KL, he seemed a lot better.

We checked on him a few days after that – just to confirm that he did not get measles. Well, the thing was – when he came, there was a measles outbreak in Tokyo. So bad that many universities and schools were closed, including Waseda which were closed for 9 days. Other leading universities that cancelled classes included Tokyo Nihon, Chuo, Sophia and Hosei. With measles being highly contagious, I was really hoping that he was spared from it – and alhamdulillah he was.

But the rest of us were not spared from catching the virus he left though. Last Tuesday, a day before Mak went back, I was down with fever. Took Panadol Actifast and rested a lot, but by the night I was shivering like nobody’s business.

Wednesday morning, I woke up feeling awful and the bleak weather did not make it any better. But I forced myself to wake up anyway because although we already asked a friend to drive us to the airport, I am sure Mak would feel better being sent by us rather than just a stranger.

Bye-bye Ibu, Ujai balik Mesia dengan Embah, ok? Ibu jaga adik dalam kain batik tu baik-baik ok?

I felt okay when we sent Mak to the airport, but when we returned I was once again shivering. Took Panadol soluble, and while it helped reduced my temperature for a while, I was again shivering later that night. When my temperature raised up to 40 degree Celsius, I quickly called hubby who was teaching in Ichikawa Ono to come back. To make matters worse, Huzaifah too was beginning to show symptoms of being unwell. His temperature was over 38 degrees and he also vomited that night.

Thursday morning saw both Ibu dan Anak seeking treatment at a local clinic.

Our temperatures are ok now, if you ask me, but both Huzaifah and I are still not feeling well. Huzaifah – who normally does not know how to stay still- is for once rather quiet. It was heartbreaking to see him refusing food he normally enjoyed, to see his reddened cheek when he vomited last night and to console his merengek last night while I persistently did the jelum thingy (using cold wet face towel to wipe his head and forehead) despite his refusal, before he could finally went to sleep.

We might have gotten the virus from Huzaifah’s Ayah Ngah–
but I think we got the demam because we both miss his Embah…

Some notes on daily life in Tokyo

Thought my reply to an e-mail from a friend who is coming to study here in Tokyo might benefit others too...

"Dear Achoi,

Congratulations on being granted Mambusho scholarship to do your MA in GRIPS.

Since we are in different programs, I could only hope that my responses to your queries would be relevant. Yours is a one-year MA program, while mine is from being a research post graduate student and could be extended until I finish my PhD should I wish to do so. (I had only asked for extension until I finish my MA though). However, you will receive higher monthly stipend. Right now while under Cuti Belajar Bergaji Penuh, JPA is paying my salary but I am not sure about your program, so you might want to check with JPA on that.

Ok, now to address your questions.

While Mambusho does not provide family allowance, you are entitled to get monthly child allowance from your ward/city office. The rule of thumb is 5000 yen per child for 1^st and 2^nd child and 10,000 yen for third and subsequent children. However, if your 1^st or 2^nd child is under three years of age, then s/he is also eligible to get 10,000 yen monthly allowance.

As for medical expenses, if you sign your family up for National Health Insurance plan, chances are your children’s medical expenses would be subsidized, either partially or fully, depending on your locality. For instance, when I was living in Chiba, any medical treatment for Huzaifah costed 200 yen and his medicine costed 40 yen. Here in Asakusa, where we pay higher premium for health insurance, medical expenses (both consultation and prescription) for children under 6 (or is it 9?) year old are fully subsidized.

As for part-time jobs – it might be easier for a person who can speak nihongo to get it. You also must apply for a work permit if either you or your wife wishes to engage in some baito (as we call part-time job here). Since you are going to be a full-time student, you /your wife could only work up to 28 hours per week, and 8 hours per day during vacation. You can check with GRIPS office on the procedure to apply for a work permit – I got one for my hubby and the procedure is quite tedious even though there is no charge for it.

As for kindergarten (hoikuen) or nursery (youchien), you have to check it with your ward/city office on the availability and charges. Sometimes the ward/city office also provides daycare and charge it per hours for children who are not attending either hoikuen or youchien. Again, you might want to check this with your city/ward office.

Ramai tak melayu kat sini?
Heh. Relatively speaking – boleh tahan ramai. But whether you get to meet/interact with other Malay on daily basis is another issue. Should you feel like staying in a kampong Melayu, you might want to consider staying in Gyotoku or Hachioji. There are many post graduate Malay students living there, where monthly rental for a two room apartment would be around 60,000 - 65,000 yen.

There are plenty of halal shops in Tokyo, and my personal favorite is Nasco. You could purchase halal stuff by going to the shop yourself, by calling the shop or shopping online.

I am not sure of the exact population of Muslims in Tokyo and surrounding areas, but there are plenty of mosques and musollas, so I guess Muslims here pun boleh tahan ramai jugak la kot.

You have to buy electrical appliances here due to differences in voltage and plug used. Malaysia uses 240 volts whereas in Japan the voltage is 100. You can buy certain used appliances such as rice cooker, fridge, heater, washing machine and gas cooker at recycle shops.

As for formula milk and cereals, you might want to consider bringing a lot of stock from Malaysia. Relatively speaking, disposable diapers are not that expensive, but children wear could burn a hole in your pocket. Many friends here buy used children wear at flea market or recycle shops – especially those thick warm clothing that you won’t consider bringing back to Malaysia. Sometimes though you might want to consider buying brand new t-shirt or two at bargain price when there’s sale going in Gap or Uniqlo outlets (I personally found that Gap outlets in Shinjuku and Ueno usually carry more stock on children wear on sale).

Based on past experience, it could be rather chilly in October, but not quite cold yet. So, you don’t have to buy winter clothing yet, but do be prepared with some sweaters/jackets upon arrival.

A good car is worth buying only if you intend to bring it back to Malaysia because cars are costly in many respects. Parking is expensive (it’s around 20,000 yen monthly in Tokyo, less in outskirts). Gas is expensive. And Tokyo has lots of tolled roads. Not to mention taxes, insurances and maintenance. That being said, buying used car here could be quite an investment if you intend to bring it back to Malaysia. For example, a 2004 used Toyota Wish is about the same price with a brand new Perodua Kancil – so that could be a factor to consider.

Chances are you might be traveling a lot using trains. Life here is organized around train stations, and distance is usually counted in minutes (by foot) from the nearest train station. Housing prices fall as one moves further from the station. You can use Hyperdia to help planning train travel between any two stations in Japan, complete with information on cost and time. For travel in and around Tokyo, you could also refer to Tokyo Transfer guide page.

And you might want to consider buying a bicycle. Almost everyone cycle here – from young kindergarten kids in cute bikes to frail 80 year old grannies in tricycles. Men in suits, women in skirts and high heels, students - from elementary school through college – all could be seen riding bikes. Children under 6 years old are allowed to ride on bikes with child carrier seats. Maintenance is all time low – air for tires could be found at bike shops or paid public parking areas, free parking areas are plenty and bike owners don’t have to worry about gas prices or toll rates.

Mak-mak dulu...

I have a lot respect for mothers in the old days – during those times when a family usually consists of 6, 8 or more kids, when the father was the sole breadwinner and the mother the sole domestic manager.

This morning I read a blog where the writer confessed that she had never felt so challenged in all her life as a mother now that her three children are all young adults.

This morning I also received an email from an old friend who, like me, has two sons - a toddler and a newborn baby. She confessed a sentiment which echoes my own – “rasa hidup terkejar-kejar ke sana ke mari”.

Just the other night, Mak remarked that the challenges of being a mother is never ending - from day one until she exhales her last breath, only it varies in forms and manners.

Imagine those mothers in the old days.

Back in the days with no water or electric supply in the house, what more microwave oven, fridge, blender, washing machine, vacuum cleaner or dishwasher. No disposable diapers, prepared sauces and flavorings, frozen meals or canned soup.
Back in the days when they never heard of child psychologists, motivators or family counselors.

Imagine their physical strength – to do all the water fetching, wood cutting, spices grinding, sambal pounding, cooking, washing and cleaning from dawn to sunset. And they had to wake up in the middle of the night too – to change diapers, nurse the baby, calm a child who just had a bad nightmare, sooth the child who was down with fever…

Imagine their emotional and mental strength – nurturing and catering the differing needs of kids from various stages – newborn, toddlers, schoolchildren and young adults - all simultaneously.
Sometimes they even took in their young grandchildren under their wings.

Imagine their spiritual strength – for despite all their never ending hard works, the same mothers could find time for long solat (as against 'touch-and-go' ones like many busy mothers resort to nowadays – and I am no exception), for pre-dawn heartfelt zikir, and to patiently teach their own children how to perform solat, to read the Quran and some basics of Islamic teachings.

I only have two kids right now and already I feel so overwhelmed at times.
I don’t know how I am going to survive after Mak goes back and Mak is returning to Malaysia in less than a week time.
Huzaifah is as active as ever, paying little attention to his Ibu’s pleas not to do this or that.
Humaidi could not be left alone for long before he starts crying.
Humaidi’s diaper leaks also mean additional hand washing as laundry now need to be rinsed thoroughly first before being dumped in the washing machine.
Cooking had to be done in the early morning before Huzaifah wakes up.
Any writing or reading has to be done when I could find time to do so in between trying to console a wailing Humaidi, preventing Huzaifah from endangering himself with his aksi lasak, maintaining a livable home and looking like a respectable human being…

So, to console myself, I imagine the hardships that mothers in the old days had gone through.
And I quickly count my blessings as I remind myself that I am in no position to moan.
At all.

Dah habis pantang dah...

My pantang was over last Saturday.

I started the day with having an egg sandwich with a mug of tea – two no-no food/drink during confinement.

Since the weather was splendidly-oh-so-sunshiny yesterday, I decided to take Mak along with baby Humaidi out shopping while hubby took care of Huzaifah at home. Mak wanted to buy some souvenirs and she had expressed her desire for a return trip to “that big 100 yen shop we went to last year”. The big 100 yen shop she meant is the 7-floor Daiso 100 yen hall in Funabashi, Chiba, which is about 45 minutes from our home by bus (to Asakusabashi) and train (JR Sobu line from Asakusabashi to Funabashi).

I did not bring the baby stroller to carry Humaidi, instead I asked Mak to help tying the knot for a traditional sling using kain batik. Hah, it’s very Indon like, if you ask me, but I like having my two hands free and not worrying about carrying the stroller up the stairs at the train station (there’s neither elevator nor escalator at Asakusabashi eki).

Right after we finished shopping, we went to a Tenya just across the road. Mak had jou tendon while I had a plate of mix tempura – prawn, squid, fish, pumpkin, eggplant and snap bean. All save for the fish were no-no food during confinement. Not to mention the free flow ice cold tea. The prawn tempura tasted especially delicious, perhaps because I’ve been tempted with prawns a few times before. The two big pieces of juicy ebi-furai for congratulatory meal in the hospital, the mouth watering sambal udang in Taj Mahal the previous week plus some home made sambal udang by Mak at home…

By the way, alhamdulillah, a thorough check by the gynae a month after Humaidi was born, confirmed that everything is fine with me. I miss not having any tukang urut or a traditional bidan around though, if only to get second opinion.

Humaidi too is growing well, alhamdulillah. He hasn’t gotten any immunization injection yet, but he has gained over 1kg since birth. He has learned to suck much better now compared to the first few weeks when I had to pump my milk for him. Unfortunately I am not producing enough milk to breastfeed exclusively, but so long as I get to feed him, I am not complaining. I already lost that connection with Huzaifah, so I really appreciate the opportunity I have right now.

Actually I am appreciating and re-appreciating a lot of things now that the confinement period is over- including a small pack of Green tea Haagen Dazs in my fridge waiting to be consumed soon after I post this entry…

The day Mak turned 60

Mak turned 60 on May 12th.

And due to a call from Rika-san the previous day, hubby was free from teaching obligations that day. He initially thought of treating Mak and I for a birthday dinner, but since he was free for the day, he made a change of plan…

So he led us to a day out in the park – at Shinjuku Gyoen.
Hubby had a blast taking photos here and there – and it so happened that our visit coincided with the opening day of LOHAS Design Award 2007.

Mak had a back ache – from all the running in her attempts to catch up with Huzaifah.

I had a lot of quiet moment with Humaidi, sitting under the roofed arbor, munching on castellas, wishing hubby would hurry up so that we could go back early and Mak could pray Asar at home as per her request before we left home. Oh, and I met one obaasan who also happened to live in Asakusa but went for a walk in Shinjuku Gyoen. She asked me to try out Hibiya Koen on another day, since it's also a splendid garden, or so according to her.

If anyone would like to visit Shinjuku Gyoen, I would suggest doing so during Sakura season for hanami, or in autumn for momiji. It’s pretty ordinary during late spring/summer - lots of greens and nothing much else, except for some varieties of roses in the French formal garden area.

Despite Mak’s pleas to go back early, hubby insisted on visiting the Greenhouse, which we did. I’m quite relieved we did so though because only after visiting it we realized that the huge Greenhouse would be closed for renovation beginning May 14^th and only would be reopened in 2011. (Most of the plants found there could be seen in Malaysia, but we seldom get to enter a greenhouse though...)

We left the park at almost 3.00 p.m, by which time the adults were all hit with the 3 Ls – Lapar, Lenguh and Letih. Huzaifah was already dozing off in his stroller, while Humaidi was sleeping rather peacefully in my arms.

Hubby called Brother Harun, who acts as chef at his own restaurant, Taj Mahal in Matsudo, in advance to let him know that we would be coming – a lot early for dinner, but a little late for lunch. Brother Harun is a regular attendee for Jumuah prayer at Asakusa mosque. I had been to Taj Mahal once before and was treated to a nice supper. On that occasion, Huzaifah even broke a glass, but Brother Harun refused to accept any payment for neither the meal nor the broken glass. We said that we would like to visit his restaurant another time, but he must accept our payment the next time.

Right after we exited the train at Akasaka Mitsuke station, to change from Marunouchi to Ginza line, hubby exclaimed that he had forgotten his knapsack on the overhead rack in the train. I rushed to the station’s Lost and Found office, quickly reported our loss, hoping that we would be able to retrieve it as soon as possible.

After getting some details from me – the color of the knapsack, the brand, the content, which coach we were in, which side of the coach – the person in charge called Ochanomizu station, asking the person there to look out for it. The efficiency of Japanese customer service was proven yet again, for it was less than 10 minutes before I overheard the call confirming that the bag was found in Ochanomizu. I was then advised to go to there since the person in charge was waiting for me to come and claim my bag.

So, instead of going to Ueno to catch another train to Matsudo, we had to detour to Ochanomizu first. Not long after we entered the train, Humaidi woke up and demanded to be fed. Since both his feeding bottles were in the temporarily missing bag, I had to ask hubby to act as a shield as I tried my best to sorok-sorok breastfeeding my hungry baby. Lucky for me, when they are on board a train, most Japanese tend to be either very occupied with their handphone/reading materials or asleep, and those who are neither tend to be rather zombie like, staring ahead until they reach their station without turning around much. Thus I did not receive any lecherous grins or improper attention at that time.

Huzaifah too woke up just as we were about to exit the train in Ochanomizu, and badly needed a diaper change as his pants were already wet. So, while hubby gave him a change of clothes, I quickly went to claim the lost bag, leaving Mak with hubby and kids. After confirming that the found bag was mine, the content intact and filled in some form, I joined my family, just in time to board the train heading back the way we came from. Since we were in Ochanomizu, we decided to change to Hibiya line at Ginza. Instead of stopping at Ueno, we exited at Kita Senju and boarded a Joban train there to Matsudo.

It turned out that Brother Harun had prepared special dishes for us when we reached there. Mak and I had been looking forward to having nan and tandoori, but what we were served was that and so much more.

For appetizer, we were served gado-gado and tomato sauce spring rolls.
For main course, we were served seafood nasi goreng, sambal udang, vegetables fried with minced beef, Bengal-style fried fish, tandoori chicken, dhal curry with white rice and nan.
We had yummy yoghurt topped with real strawberry, kiwi and banana slices for dessert before finally we were served chai.

Ok, for the record, I didn’t eat the sambal udang, nor any of the ‘angin’ veggies, but I just couldn’t resist the chai. Besides, I figured since it was brewed with “warm spices” - cinnamon, ginger and cloves - surely it couldn’t be bad for a mother in confinement period. Ehcheh... Honestly, since my first sip of the distinct chai there months ago, I was simply hooked, and I have always been a teh tarik lover anyway…

The meal was lovely – and really felt special as exquisite dishes were served one after another. Mak asked hubby if he had ordered in advance, to which he admitted that no, he did not order anything in advance, that it was all to Brother Harun’s credit. We felt like we could not thank him enough; he even went the extra mile to prepare ‘nusantara’ dishes which were never listed in his Indian restaurant’s menu.

When we finished the meal, hubby went to the cash register but Brother Harun adamantly refused to receive any payment. He insisted on it being his gift – for Mak’s birthday as well as a belated congratulatory dinner for me on Humaidi’s birth. (He even asked me to bring Mak there again before she returns to Malaysia, for yet another treat.)

So that's the story of the day when Mak turned 60…

If you want to be fair...

"Let's not ask Barbara Walters about how a Muslim woman feels.
Let's not ask Tom Brokaw how Muslim women feel.
Let's not ask CNN, ABC, Fox
Let's not ask The London Times or The Australian Times
Let's not ask non Muslims about how Muslim women feel, how they live, what are their principles, what are their challenges.
If you want to be fair, ask a Muslim woman...
Ask a Muslim woman that knows her religion, who has a relationship with her Creator, who is stable in her society, understanding her responsibilities, her relationships.
Ask her.
And after that, I think you should be fair, and you don't need to ask someone else...
But the problem is, no one really wants to ask Muslim women"

Sheikh Khalid Yasin during a talk on "True success of Life"

10, 20 years ago

My birthday was last Thursday. A non-event if you asked me, what with me still being in confinement period and all. Mak made ‘birthday lempeng” for tea, but hubby promised a birthday treat for both of us on Saturday, Mak’s 60^th birthday. Ayah just turned 60 the previous Saturday, on 5^th May, when Humaidi turned a month old (and had to see a doctor because his temperature was a bit high. Huzaifah too had to be brought to the clinic because of high temperature – alhamdulillah, they are both okay now).

I received two parcels this past week. One was from Malaysia, containing 20 extra large cotton diapers meant as kain bedung for Humaidi. The other parcel was from ICOJ President and his family. It contained a birthday card, some new clothes for Huzaifah and Humaidi and a 2000 yen voucher. Seems like this year, my birthday presents are really meant for my children, but I am happy. And especially happy when Humaidi – who was not sleeping well the previous night due to probably gassy tummy - was given a clean bill of health by Watari-san, the public nurse who visited us on my birthday to check on him.

Anyway, birthday meant another year gone, and shorter time left for me on this earth – so I have thought of how things, personal views and perspectives have changed for me in the last 10, 20 years. Here are some of my thoughts:
On writing
At 12, my short composition was published in the school yearbook
At 22, my articles had been published in the New Straits Times and The Star, and I had my own column in a bi-monthly (or was it monthly?) publication albeit with a small distribution.
At 32, my rants and ravings are published only on my blog.

On marriage
At 12, not wanting to repeat the failure my biological mother was in her marriages, I had resolved never to marry.
At 22, I had came to accept that we are different people and that kind of failure is not necessarily inherited
At 32, I am quite positive that we are different.

On education
At 12, I never thought I was going to be a law student in a prestigious school in the UK
At 22, I was struggling to get a law degree with honors in Leeds University.
At 32, I am pleased to admit that I got a law degree from Leeds University.

At 12, I never really thought about education further than, errr SPM maybe…
At 22, I thought of getting my MA by the age of 30, and maybe get my PhD by the age of 40
At 32, I am still struggling to finish my MA (while many of my friends are currently pursuing their PhD)

On career
At 12, I never dreamed of becoming a lawyer
At 22, I knew I wasn’t cut to be a practicing lawyer
At 32, I am happy I am not a lawyer

At 12, I wanted to be an archeologist
At 22, I wanted a job with a decent pay after graduation (and prayed hard for it because it was during the recession)
At 32, I am no way near being an archeologist, but am content with my current job.

On being a worthy person
At 12, I wanted to be someone “berguna”
At 22, I just knew I was going to be someone “berguna”
At 32, I hope I am actually “berguna”, not merely "kena guna" (because sometimes being a machai could be really frustrating especially when you have lousy leaders and you have to follow them because doing otherwise is not an actual option)

On savings
At 12, I saved up for a Nittaku ping-pong bat
At 22, I saved up for a tour around Europe
At 32, I am saving to help the family get rid of some debts and after that, perhaps for a car

On travel
At 12, I had wanted to visit USA so bad (that I even fabricated stories about my “trip” in the USA, based on stories I heard from my aunts and uncles who studied there)
At 22, I had wanted to visit Hong Kong and China so bad (partly to visit Muslims there, partly because I was a Hong Kong drama fan, partly because Hong Kong was the home of Aaron Kwok)
At 32, I want to go to Makkah and Madinah first and foremost, travel elsewhere but I don’t mind not going to USA at all

On photography
At 12, I had no idea of the joy in taking pictures
At 22, I loved taking pictures (Mak kept complaining that I was spending too much on photos)
At 32, I am married to someone who loves taking pictures even more than me (sometimes he get so carried away with it that he just abandoned other tasks at hand)

On ice cream
At 12, I loved ice cream, especially aiskrim mangkuk
At 22, I loved ice cream, especially McDonald’s hot fudge sundae served with hot apple pie (they don’t serve it that way in Malaysia though)
At 32, I love ice cream – and can’t wait for my confinement period to be over so that I could indulge in a cup of Haagen Dazs – or better, a treat at Cold Stone Creamery.

Bag of Potatoes

Found this one as I was browsing through old e-mails and thought it's worth sharing...

"One of my teachers had each one of us
bring a clear plastic bag and a
sack of potatoes. For every person we'd
refuse to forgive in our life, we
were told to choose a potato, write on it
the name and date, and put it in
the plastic bag. Some of our bags, as you
can imagine, were quite heavy.

We were then told to carry this bag with
us everywhere for one week,
putting it beside our bed at night, on
the car seat when driving, next
to our desk at work.

The hassle of lugging this around with us
made it clear what a weight we
were carrying spiritually, and how we had
to pay attention to it all the
time to not forget, and keep leaving
it in embarrassing places.

Naturally, the condition of the potatoes
deteriorated to a nasty slime. This
was a great metaphor for the price we pay
for keeping our pain and heavy
negativity.

Too often we think of forgiveness as a
gift to the other person, and
while that's true, it clearly is also a
gift for ourselves. "

-Author Unknown

Dua

Orang baru dalam keluarga ini nampaknya serasi dengan angka 2.

Dilahirkan tepat jam 2.22 petang

Anak ke 2 dalam keluarga

Cucu ke 2 dalam keluarga Ibu

Cucu ke 22 dalam keluarga Ayah

Pesan Ibu – jangan nanti dah besar, kahwin 2 pula…

Mak and Huzaifah

Mak has been here for a month. If not for her, I would be in real trouble. Having two babies quadruple the tasks of having just one. So, I feel blessed having Mak to do the cooking, the dishes, the laundry and to take turn looking after Huzaifah and Humaidi.

Mak being here for a month means we get to do a lot of catching up. I’ve learned some stuff I never knew before. Likewise, Mak too just learned of a few things herself. But all is good – after all, certain things are meant to be learned by our dear and loved ones not immediately, but over certain period of time…

Mak being here too means I get to hear a lot of advice – whether sought for or otherwise. But I tend to agree with whoever that said that we tend to listen more to our mothers as we grow older. Not that I agree with all that she has to say – but I pay more attention now than I did, say ten years ago. And definitely thankful that I still have a mother to turn to for advice.

#####

Prior to experiencing it herself, Mak had no idea how active Huzaifah actually is – running here and there, climbing here and there, moving stuff here and there, never still for a moment except when he is sleeping. Alhamdulillah Huzaifah does not show any signs of jealousy towards his new adik – in fact, adik gets to be kissed all the time where else he would just shake his head vigorously upon any plea for a kiss from Ayah, Ibu or Embah. On the other hand, we have to monitor his movement more carefully since he might unintentionally hurt adik.

But Mak would never forget how disorientated Huzaifah was the morning hubby and I were away at the hospital. He woke up and ran to look for me in the kitchen. When he did not find me there, he returned to the bedroom, and looked for his Ayah. When he realized that he could not find any of us, he started crying while tossing the futon, perhaps thinking we were hiding from him. He ran to and fro the kitchen and the bedroom, he even knocked on the toilet’s room, all the while never stopping crying. His Embah tried to console him, and when that did not work, distracted his attention by persuading him to watch the television. He cried himself to sleep as he kicked the futon in frustration. He was not his normal active self the whole day until his Ayah returned late that evening.

Mak is worried that Huzaifah is a little bit too small for his age. At 19 months, he only weighed 10.8 kg and 79cm tall. Mak complained that we do not feed him enough and she’s especially worried that Huzaifah has not start talking properly, still babbling in his own 'bahasa mongol yang telah pupus'. The thing is, he has always been a bit advanced physically; at 18-months he could do what is expected from a 24-months old - he can walk up stairs, walk down stairs, kick ball forward, take off his own clothes, open door – and if he could talk properly, he could probably start potty training already since he takes off his diaper and pants whenever he feels uneasy.

Mentally, he is doing fine too, since it is obvious that his mind keeps working as he keeps exploring stuff. He understands and responds to requests and questions with signals, exhibits temper and frustration, laughs at funny things and loves when we babble back to him. But his progress is slow when it comes to language skills. While most toddlers his age are able to say about 20 words and make 2/3-word sentence, the only word that he uses frequently that we could comprehend is ta-ta (as in bye-bye). The doctor I consulted for his 18 months check-up advised me to spend more time teaching him new words and practice using them so that at least he could make 2-word sentence by the time he reaches 24 months.

Still, with Huzaifah being so difficult to stand still even for a minute, I wonder how on earth am I going to pull that off…

6ix weird things about me

Was tagged by Kak Pia some time last month – sorry ye Kak Pia for my late response… This is not an easy tag for me because I have been called weird by different people for different reasons at different times in my life – so I am not exactly sure whether or not what I am going to list down could be considered weird – but here goes nothing anyway…

1. Before I had my crowning done in 1999, I usually appeared unsmiling in photos although I smiled a lot in real life. I had a lot of a’la Marlboro Man ad (not-looking-at-the-camera-directly) photos though.

2. I could be oh-so-serious one minute and buat lawak bangang the next.

3. I could remain friends with my ex, which baffled many people. Once we had a huge row, and I actually tried stopping all communications with him – but he threw my words back at me “you said that we are friends and friendship never ends, right?” That, plus the fact that most mutual friends had no idea about our fight back then, glued us to remain friends after all these times…

4. I would burp when I massage another person - it is as if the person’s trapped air would travel through my touch and exit through my mouth.

5. I don’t do any taste check while cooking – which is no problem if I’m cooking in a small quantity since my estimate amount of salt/sugar is usually sufficient. If I’m cooking for a big group though, someone else has to taste it.

6. As a child, although I don’t remember having any imaginary friend, I used to act out different scenes by different characters using different voices on my own. Yes, I had a very vivid imagination – and the big buaian in front of my Tok’s house was the main stage for most of my self-directed-and-self-acted drama.

Orang Baru...

Thank you for all the doa and warm wishes.

Am sharing some pics of my new baby, Muhammad Akif Humaidi. Born in San Iku Kai Hospital, Tokyo at 2.22 p.m. on 5th April 2007 (17 Rabiul Awal 1428H) through normal delivery, alhamdulillah.

Akif - "orang yang beriktikaf" - was chosen by me although his father and grandparents preferred Aqil (wise person), since I would like to commemorate the fact that we live in a mosque when he was born. Humaidi - "kepujianku" - was chosen by his dad, which I had no trouble agreeing to since it's quite different from the normally used Hamdi or Hamidi.

By the way, I could now refute the normally-heard-claim of the first baby being the most difficult birthing experience - I went through about 20 hours of labor pain this time around, waiting for my water bag to burst on its own (with Huzaifah, I was in labor for only about 5-6 hours and the doctor helped to break the water bag). However, after that, Humaidi almost slipped out on his own because I spent only 7 minutes pushing.

Similarities between the first and second birthing experiences:

- Could not stomach anything the morning I gave birth to Huzaifah, and could not stomach anything this time around too. Vomited right after early breakfast at home, vomited again after breakfast in the hospital.

- Managed to fulfill one last craving for ice cream the night before giving birth.

- Both babies are born on midday, Thursday.

- Both babies are born earlier than predicted. Huzaifah came a week earlier than the estimated due date, and Humaidi two weeks earlier.

- Both birthdays are quite easy to remember – 8/9 and 5/4…

Differences:

- Hubby was with me this time around. Helped me walking around the ward while waiting for my water bag to burst, helped feeding me a small container of yoghurt for lunch, helped giving me some back massage, and held my hand as I was in the last stage of labor.

- The doctor who assisted this birth is the same doctor I consulted during my check-up. Felt really relieved to see Kimura sensei’s face as she entered the waiting room to check on me just before my water bag burst and I was quickly transferred to the labor room.

- No painful after-birth hematoma experience.

- No surprise on the baby’s gender because Kimura sensei had pointed out to me baby’s scrotum during one of the ultra-sound scans earlier.

- Received really great after-birth care for five days at the hospital. (It’s customary for mommies to stay in the hospital for five days after a normal delivery, longer if by c-sect)

He had his tahnik when he was a week old, and we had a small kenduri on last Sunday for his cukur jambul as well as to celebrate Maulidur Rasul. (Hanis, I tried calling you numerous times to invite you and other friends but somehow I never got through… gomen ne).

Anyway, here's a note of thanks to:

- Mak, for everything from calming Huzaifah down the morning he could not find Ayah and Ibu around, to taking care of us all while we are adapting to having an additional member in the family;

- Zafran, Joe and Ani, Ella and others who shared information on childbirth related processes and procedures;

- Mizan, who helped us getting a taxi at 5.00 a.m. that memorable morning and agreed to be the "next of kin" when the hospital asked us to name someone who could speak Nihongo fluently;

- Harun-san who helped hubby settling some stuff in the hospital;

- Rabia-san who drove me to Ueno and assisted me in settling baby's ward office related matters - childbirth registration, getting alien card, registering for national health insurance, registering for child welfare and getting the "congratulations money";

- Apid, Basharan, Anuar, Mus'ab and Ibrahim who helped Mak and hubby preparing for the kenduri. Faizly might have joined us if he had been around but he was on his way back from Malaysia when we had the kenduri;

- Pokcik, for taking excellent photos and Kak Mai for lending me the tungku;

- Everybody who called, e-mailed, left a message via YM/Skype, visited us in the hospital/at home, and/or attended the kenduri...

Tolong doakan ye...

Am in pain right now.
The staining and contractions had started around midnight.
Will be leaving for the hospital shortly (yes, it's 4.20 a.m.)
Tolong doakan ye

Maulidur Rasul 1428H

Just want to share three related nasyids in conjunction with our beloved Rasulullah's birthday...

This one by Haddad Alwi and Duta (Sheila on 7) might hit well with Faizly and those who enjoy Indonesian pop

This one is an all-time favorite of mine by Sami Yusuf

And this is for those who prefer traditional stuff...

Tips I've learned (and re-learned) for a safe delivery

*Recite Surah Maryam (for a safe delivery), Surah Yusuf (for a beautiful child), Surah Luqman (for a smart child) and Surah Muhammad (for a pious child). In my case, while I have khatam the Quran once during this pregnancy (in Ramadhan), I mostly 'cheat' by listening to online Quran recitation rather than reading it myself... bad bad A.Z...

*Recite lots of zikr and make a lot of do’a continuosly.

*Ask for forgiveness from dear hubby and parents.

*Drink lots of water. Drink plenty of soy milk or just plain milk.

*Birds nest is said to help improve immune functions of the fetus and enable the mother to recover easily after giving birth. A pity I forgot to stock up when I went back to Malaysia last summer though. Duh!

*Olive oil is said to be good too – not just for the stretch mark, but also to be taken orally, a teaspoonful a day. It could work as a 'selusuh' of some sort. So, it's no wonder one of hubby's uncles is fond of giving away olive oil to his pregnant nieces...

*Eat a lot of vegetables, especially dark green leafy ones (including seaweed). Nori - mmm yummy!

*Eat a lot of other iron-rich food to prevent anaemia - meat, poultry, fish, legumes, whole-grain, but note that iron from animal products is better absorbed by the body than that from plant sources. Taking Vitamin C can help the body absorb more iron too.

*Eat a lot of dates – this is supposed to help with the birthing as well as promoting a plentiful milk supply for the baby. Eating a lot of white radish (daikon) might help breast milk production too. Tried eating a lot of daikon when I was breastfeeding Huzaifah, and alhamdulllah, it worked well as claimed by my mak bidan.

*Exercise! Pelvic exercise (Kegel), swimming, prenatal yoga and walking all are said to be good for pregnant mommies. Guess climbing 5 flight of stairs could count as good exercise too, but I must admit that I do not do it daily though, heh.

*Doctor's order (seriously!) - making love - including just cuddling, kissing and hugging - can help in many ways - relaxes the pelvic muscles, ripens the cervix, relieves tension, produces helpful hormones etc. Due to the release of oxytocin, making love is a common way overdue pregnant mommies try to bring on labor.

*Walk about, even as the contraction starts, because gravity helps the baby to move down, easing baby lower and deeper into the birth canal, pressing on the cervix and shortening the labor. Last time, I walked about at home for a few hours as it made the contraction pain more bearable than laying on the bed. By the time I reached the hospital, Huzaifah was apparently ready to say hello to the world with less than 30 minutes in final labor.

*Never tried this one, but a friend shared a tip inherited from her late mother - from the 7^th month onward, a pregnant mother might want to drink a little bit of the last rinse every time she washes her hair while reciting the selawat and making do’a for an easy labor.

*Recite surah Abasa, verse 20 (summas sabil la yassarah) as labor begins. Some swear by reading Nabi Yunus’s doa (la ila ha illa anta, subhanaka inni kuntum minazzolimin), but personally I found it to be too long in the crucial moment when breathing becomes more labored and pain becomes more acute.

*Don't be afraid - it's painful, yes, but women are built tough enough to handle this. I've heard of fathers who fainted in the labor room just from looking at all the blood... but since hubby missed Huzaifah's delivery, we thought this time around it could be a bonding experience for him to be present while I give birth...

*Again, make a lot of do'a - a quick, easy, safe delivery is after all a gift from Allah...

Additional tips are most welcomed :-)

A response to a long and loaded comment

Dear Ponderer,

First, my husband knows what I write here and he has no problem with it. No, the previous entry was not about him sulking. The entry was about a crappy birthday that resulted from a crappy week before that. I’m explaining this just in case you didn’t get that, because you inferred that hubby had made some mistakes, yet I saw none. He just had a bad week – and hence a bad birthday, that’s all.

And I did wrote in the previous entry about him not being the kind to celebrate birthdays - but I do, and I had wanted to celebrate his birthday. Yes, birthday is a good day to contemplate, to reflect on the past and all, but I don’t see any harm in making it a merry day as a way to express our gratitude to Allah for allowing us to live up to this point. (By the way, are you aware that even Rasulullah celebrated his birthday by fasting on Mondays – to mark the day he was born?) Again, I do not see any mistake made by hubby just because he had a lousy birthday. So, what exactly is the mistake that you keep referring to and claimed that I should not reveal?

As for his duties as the imam-cum-super-all-in-one here in the mosque – he tries his best to do what he could. You said that in the past an Imam did not get paid any allowance or provided a place to stay. If I may remind you – in the past, people have Tok Siak to take care of the mosque. And once in a while, the whole qariah of the mosque would assemble for a gotong royong to clean it up and make it nicer. We don’t have that here. Hubby is the imam, the siak, the secretary, and everything else in between. No, he is not working for money (he doesn’t get that much for allowance anyway), but yes I think he deserves a break sometimes from having to do everything himself. Hence I don’t see him growling on his birthday as “a mistake that should not be revealed to others because it reflects badly on him as an imam” – it was just a sign that he needed a break.

By the way, too many people feel that when it comes down to ‘kerja agama’, one has to be sincere, has to do it ‘ikhlas, lillahi taala’ because it is after all a ‘fisabilillah’ task and one will be rewarded by Allah. What many fail to appreciate is that even people who carry out ‘kerja agama’ need financial support too. After all, every other jobs, so long as they are halal, could also be classified “fisabilillah”, thus everybody should also be “ikhlas, lillahi taala”, and should not expect any monetary rewards, huh? Yet in practice, we don’t really see that happening, do we? Often we find parents who wouldn’t mind paying a small fortune for their kids’ tuition fees, but are rather stingy when it comes down to paying an ustaz to teach Al-Quran or fardhu ‘ain. Often we find people who could be oh-so-generous when it comes to belanja in the canteen, yet are tightfisted when it comes down to sedeqah for ‘kerja agama’.

And before you wonder yet again if hubby knows what I write this time – he sat right beside me as I wrote this one. So there.

What a crappy birthday...

Hubby had a pretty crappy birthday earlier this week.

We had been looking forward to a visit to either Kamogawa Sea World or Mother Farm in Chiba – but had to cancel it because something came up at the mosque.

Actually, a few things came up at the mosque the previous week.

First, the gas supply was cut for a few hours.
Then, there was a problem with the water pump in the basement – which had just been replaced last September, so we were very much perplexed when there was no water on the upper floors except for the first floor.
The water pump problem turned out to be caused by a flooded water tank area.
Then, the kitchen sink in our house clogged badly, tried to be fixed up by a friend but ended unusable due to some leakage.
We also found out that the water heater in our bath is actually 27 years old and needed a replacement badly.
Not to mention the water heater at the kitchen – not quite 27 years, but also in need of replacement as the maker no longer produce spare parts for this particular model, and it no longer functions properly.

The gas supply was cut for a few hours because apparently the bills were not settled in time. Hubby made a few calls – because normally the bills are paid elsewhere by someone else in the ICOJ, unless they specifically ask hubby to pay the bills by depositing some money in our account. There had been no request for him to pay the gas bills before and he had faxed the bills to the person normally in charge of paying the bills back in January or February.

The person claimed that he had received no such thing. Hubby then faxed the fax that he had sent earlier, to which the person claimed that he could not make the payment because he need the original stub to do so, and hubby did not send him the original stub. Hubby asked him back – what about earlier bills then? How did he settle the payment for the earlier bills? He said he either came to pick up the original stubs in the office or he asked hubby to send them by post. So, why didn’t he ask hubby to do the same this time around? Or send some money to us so that we could pay them ourselves? The person on the other line of the phone went really quiet…

Gas is needed for a lot of things – the heater, the hot water supply, for cooking (we don’t have ‘tong gas’ like we have back in Malaysia), so I asked hubby to use our money first to pay the bills, which he did, and I called the gas company to resume the service, which they did within a few hours.

Just as we felt relieved at having the gas back, suddenly there was no water in our house. The last time this happened was back in last year’s Ramadhan, and back then it was due to some problems related to the water pump in the basement. Hubby went down to check on it – found the water tank to be full, but the pump did not seem to be functioning.

Because the water pump caused a small fortune (about RM10,000), it came with free after sales service, so we called up the water pump company. A technician arrived in the evening to give it a look. Apparently the water tank area in the basement was flooded – so he asked us to clean and dry up the water tank first before he can give the water pump a proper look. Understandably, he was reluctant to give it a proper inspection, perhaps afraid of being short circuited or something.

Hubby made a few other calls to some people that night. Unlike in September when water at least reached the 2^nd floor, this time water was only available on the 1^st floor – and he had to carry a few buckets of water up to the 5^th floor, out of consideration for me.

Kamarol happened to stay with us that night, plus another Bangladeshi musafir from Hokkaido – so hubby engaged their help to clean up the basement a bit. It was filled with lots and lots of junk – plastic wares, steel poles, used clothing and all kind of waste. Hubby had never cleaned them out before this, because most of them were too heavy to be handled by a lone man. He had asked for help before from ICOJ people to clean the basement, but his request was easily dismissed and he was told in reply to ask for help from his friends to clean the place up.

Alhamdulillah, early the next morning, there was an electrician who is a friend to a friend, who agreed to come and take a look at the flooded basement. After some poking here and there plus using some equipment hubby forgot to use, they managed to dry up the water tank area a bit and got the pump working – at least to get the water up to the 4^th and 5^th floor. Another call was made to the water pump company, asking them to take another look.

They had the matter fixed somehow the following evening, to hubby’s great relief, because it was Thursday then, and it was important to have the water supply on the 2^nd floor because that is where people have their ablution and the following day was a Friday when a lot of people would be coming for Jumu’ah prayer.

However, just as I was about to rejoice in having water at the house, Kamarol became extra ‘rajin’ and tried to fix the often-clogged kitchen sink by using pipe cleaner liquid (as well as pipe cleanser pills) and an old-fashioned black rubber stick pump. His mission failed, and we had a leakage instead, rendering the kitchen sink totally out of order.

And the water supply to the 2^nd floor stopped just as Jumu’ah prayer was about to begin.

Thus Friday yet witnessed another effort by the water pump boys. They succeeded to a certain degree, with a promise of a return trip on Sunday evening.

Friday too witnessed a kind friend calling up washroom accessories suppliers to get quotations for bathroom hot water heaters, and someone promised to come and visit us and give a quotation on Monday.

Sunday, the water boys came again for yet another repair session. Hubby asked one of the guys to take a look at our out-of-use kitchen sink which he did. He tried some pumping/probing/poking, but to no use, so he ended up putting some sort of powder, asking me to refrain from using the sink for one whole day and he would return the next day to take another look.

With two different companies promising to visit us on Monday, it meant we could not go out, which also meant a cancellation of any trip to celebrate hubby’s birthday.

Which perhaps explained why he was not in a good mood that day. When I asked if there’s anything he would like me to cook for him that day – he just growled that he does not celebrate birthday, just cook whatever I felt like cooking. And he growled a lot that day, complaining about this and that – which in turn made me felt a little bit exasperated too, but I tried to contain it because it was his birthday after all.

The water pump boy returned on Monday, when everything finally returned to normal – resumed water supply on all floors, working kitchen sink in our house, and all. The guy from washroom accessories shop called us to postpone his appointment to two days later though.

As for hubby, I cooked some Indonesian rawon (East Javanese beef soup with lots of spices) and one of his favourite dish, ayam masak sos but they were left untouched. He did not even took any dinner.

But then again, it was his birthday after all. He could growl and sulk all day long if he wanted. Probably anyone else would sulk too if it happened to them – a crappy birthday following a crappy week…

To one sincere, committed officer...

When hubby read out loud news regarding the passing away of Allahyarham Datuk Dr Salleh Hassan, I immediately thought that the name sounds familiar.

I asked Mak the following day during our Skype session. Mak confirmed that she used to know him. She visited him a few hours before he passed away and visited his house the following day to pay her last respect just before he was buried in Putrajaya.

He suffered from cancer, and when Mak visited him, he could no longer speak but communicated using notes. He was Mak’s junior, and in earlier days, Mak found it easy to criticize him for his chain-smoking habit. Sometimes, when she had a chance to do so, she even took the cigarette packet from him and literally threw it away. And he would only grinned sheepishly as he listened to Mak’s lecture on how bad smoking is for his health.

Friday is usually considered a good day to pass away – it’s the holy day and chances are one who pass away on a Friday would get more congregation for ‘solat jenazah’, hence more people making do’a for him or her. And as Allahyarham Datuk Salleh was obviously a well-liked person, there were many who attended his funeral.

I have never known him personally – but I know Mak to be a good judge of character. She has high regards for the guy – lots of respect, like and admiration. She even told him once that if she could use “sayang”, then he would definitely be one of her colleagues that she really “sayang”.

“What made him so special, Mak?”

“Too many people out there are busy establishing “network”, yet in truth they are merely tukang kipas - self-promoting themselves yet are not doing substantial work to prove their worth. He wasn’t like that. He got along well with everyone without even trying. All because he did not give anybody any reason not to like him. He was very dedicated, very passionate about his work. But most importantly he was sincere, and it showed”

I may not know him personally, but Mak's description was enough to convince me that the civil service had indeed lost one great officer. We have too many a** kissers and yes-men out there that it's almost rare to find a great officer in a well-deserved position...

Here’s to one sincere, committed officer whose loss is deeply felt – Al-Fatihah.

Breech no more

“Has the baby turn its head downward?,” the nurse asked after the normal greetings.

“I am not sure. I hope so though”

She checked my tummy, pressing the lower part of my abdomen a little bit.

“Hmmm… It’s difficult to tell isn't it…”

As soon as I laid on the inspection bed, the doctor quickly scanned the lower part of my abdomen…
The baby’s head appeared on the screen.

“Yokatta! Yokatta!” the doctor applauded while clapping her hand cheerfully.
And I heaved a long meaningful “alhamdulillah”…

I’ve been pretty worried about Huzaifah’s adik because baby had been in breech position since week 28 and had remained so during the last two check up (week 30 & 32). The doctor had said that she's giving me until week 36, and if baby remains in breech position, she was going to prescribe c-section for me.

I was scared. Frightened. Terribly alarmed.

Despite being the mountain climber that I am, someone who seeks all kind of adventures through thrilling rides at amusement park, abseiling, rappelling and even once dreamed of bungee jumping – the mere thought of c-section really scared me.

“It’s not that bad,” Tipah who had gone through 2 c-section operations assured me through e-mail. “One minute you knew you were going to have a baby, and the next, your baby is already out,” was another friend’s way of reassuring me. Really, nothing to worry about...

But I was still scared.

So I tried to learn as much as possible about how to encourage the baby to change its position. Tried finding out tips from friends, family members, seniors, juniors – whether online or offline. Tried getting information from various websites on the net.

Hubby prepared air penawar by reading Ayat 54, Surah Al-Anfal.
Both hubby and I tried massaging my tummy, cajoling baby to get back to normal position.
I tried visualizing baby’s head moving down too.
I practiced sujud (knee-chest position) for more than 5 minutes after subuh and before sleeping, and slept on my right side as advised by the doctor.
The sujud is “to make space for the baby to turn back to normal positon”, claimed Ani, a junior who encountered similar problem during her 32^nd week and tried the ‘tidur tonggeng’ thingy for 10 days before baby returned to normal position in the 34^th week.

Yesterday, as I boarded the bus to go for my 34^th week check-up (I have stopped cycling beginning week 32), I prayed fervently that baby had turned to normal position, just like Ani’s baby did. I massaged my tummy gently, asking baby to help me out in this one.
Please, please, pretty please…

No words could exactly describe my joy at seeing baby’s image on the ultra-sound scan monitor – with the head upside down as it should be.

No words could exactly describe my relief of not having to anticipate going through an operation in a foreign country where I can’t speak the local language fluently and English is not used much.

Alhamdulillah…

Zain Bhikha's "Our World"

Our world

Every morning on every news flash
I hear the sorrow of the world
It seems like everybody's lost and scared
Trying to make sense of it all

And as I travel to and fro,
so many faces pass me by
I see lonely hearts living lonely lives
just biding their time
And while we call ourselves civilized,

many people living empty lives
As they drone their way through day and night

# Chorus

I pray for our world,

I pray for every child
I pray for our world

to be filled with smiles
Like the colours of a rainbow

and not just black and white
I pray for our world

to be filled with light
I pray for all of us, to choose the path that's right
Believe in Allah every day of our lives

In the evening on the TV news,

I see images of war.
I see brother killing brother

with no consequence at all.

And while those who claim to be leaders,

sell us tales of deceit.
But Allah alone knows in their hearts

what they reveal and conceal.

And while we call ourselves civilized,
We go on killing human lives
Too caught up in our own web of lies

Chorus
I pray for our world,

I pray for every child
I pray for our world

to be filled with smiles
Like the colours of a rainbow

and not just black and white
I pray for our world

to be filled with light
I pray for all of us, to choose the path that's right
Believe in Allah every day of our lives

Every mother, every father,

every daughter, every son
Don't you see, that the answer lies

only with the One

Repeat chorus

Artist: Zain Bhikha,

Album: Our World, 2003