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.

Piccies of the kids

Haven't post any photo for quite some time now...
Here are some of 5 month old Humaidi...






And some of 2 year old Huzaifah...

Cerita ceriti Ramadhan

Some real life stories...

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“I think my tarawih was not sah last night…”

“Huh?”

“Just as I gave the final salam in the eight rakaat, I realized that the guy next to me might not be a guy after all…”

“Why so?”

“He had breasts”

“You must be joking!”

“No, I’m serious. I believed I must had made some skin-to-skin contact with him earlier on – so my solat habis lah…”

“Oohhh…”

“I wish penkids could at least forgo their ‘male’ identity when they go for tarawih… Menyusahkan betul lah…”

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The lady who looked to be in her forties insisted on taking my space for her sunat rawatib.

“Sunat solat sunat kat tempat lain dari solat wajib,” she declared, a fact which I knew did not include shoving other people unnecessarily in a crowded place, but I smiled politely as I moved to fill a gap in the saf right behind us..

Later, she quickly fold her telekung during the zikir after solat witir, and put on a glitzy black selendang, not covering her aurat quite properly…

I guess sometimes we tend to put priorities in the wrong order…

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The groundwork for tarawih had been laid when I was around 5 years old as Tok made me followed her to the nearby surau .

Thus, I used to be one of the kids at the surau who tried to perform solat tarawih up to the 8^th rakaat and then went out the mosque to join my friends playing with sparkler and firecracker. The keyword is “tried” - because often we did not pray properly; waited until the last moment possible before the Imam went down for ruku’ to join the solat, and sometimes playfully elbowing or pulling the neighbor’s telekung. One or the other girl, often the more senior one, would hissed rather fiercely, as a warning to stop the elbowing, which would always resulted in making others broke into giggles. With the end of every two rakaat, some nenek or makcik would look sternly at us, as a sign of their disapproval with the small commotion. But some would just smile at us as we put on innocent look as though we formed no part of the hullabaloo.

But what initially started as a gathering for “bunga api” session and good “moreh” for supper, later became a gathering to quietly challenge each other strength as we competed to perform more rakaat – and properly too, no more elbowing and giggling – reserving the right to bombard the “enemy” area with different kinds of fire crackers only after solat tarawih ended.

And as we grew older, there were no more bunga api session, leaving just the serious business of the solat itself. (As the moreh too became increasingly watered down and not as yummilicious as it used to be ages ago)

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It is kind of exhausting, to tidy everything up after the ruckus Huzaifah caused on the ladies floor while I prayed. Books and toys scattering everywhere, water splashes here and there, and once he even left his diaper in the middle of the mosque causing me to lose concentration in my solat, worried that he would pee somewhere without his diapers on.
But I am thankful that I get to perform solat tarawih at the mosque
Chances are slim for women with small children with no maid to be able to join the tarawih congregation at the mosque or surau in Malaysia. A calmly sleeping baby in a bouncer could probably be tolerated by the jemaah, but not an energetic toddler or a baby who howls his frustration from time to time as he vigorously learn how to crawl.

It is kind of frustrating not having the option to go to Pasar Ramadhan, but to think up of menu for iftar almost daily – not only for hubby and me – but to suit the taste bud of the temporary Pakistani Imam and his Indian companion who would be staying here until Eid.
But I am thankful that I get to be here for Ramadhan gatherings which had been scheduled at the mosque, as it means I could get a rest from cooking during the weekends.
While I do miss Pasar Ramadhan, I get to eat other people’s cooking minus the urge to splurge during public iftar sessions here. Not to mention tasting delicacies not found in Malaysia too, as we are often introduced to Indian/Pakistani sweets and curries. I mean, how many of us have heard of nihari and paya (not the swamp) in Malaysia?

It is kind of tiring having to cook –
but hey, it definitely beats having porridge almost everyday like we did last year because I was pregnant and could not cook properly.

It is kind of weird following an Imam performing solat witir in Hanafi style –
but it also means I get to learn something new.
When I was in UK, I learned that my girlfriends from Hanafi sect do not have to cover their feet the way we in Syafie have to, during solat. Then, last year I learned from a Turkish Kurd that strict Hanafi followers are not allowed to eat seafood apart from fish – no prawns, no crustaceans, etc – which limit their choice whenever they want to eat out in Japan. And this year – I learned that not only people in Hanafi recite doa qunut during witir right from the very beginning of Ramadhan, they adopt different style of reading the qunut too. Instead of reciting qunut after ruku’, the Imam would takbir right after finishing the surah in the last rakaat, read the qunut quietly (without raising their hands), and then takbir for ruku’. So far, I had missed the qunut twice, accidentally went down for ruku’ upon hearing the first takbir, and had to wait for quite some time before being able to join the jemaah standing up straight again. Oopss.

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There's a gathering scheduled this weekend by some Malaysian students - so all Muslimah are welcome to join.

(A note to Aida-kyushu - feel free to get my number from Kak lela. Or you can email me at aezack105@softbank.ne.jp. Mari manfaatkan free Softbank-to-Softbank calls...)

All-in-one makan-makan session

It happened quite accidentally. At the back of our minds – we had already thought of hosting some makan-makan session… a sayonara dinner for friends who are graduating this year before they return to Malaysia, a Marhaban Ramadhan night even maybe a small do to celebrate Huzaifah’s birthday. Then, last week, when we attended a sayonara bbq session in Yahashira organized by the Malaysians living in Ichikawa Ono, we started asking around, and Sunday 9^th September sounded good for most of those we intended to invite for makan-makan. Just a day after Huzaifah’s second birthday, and the last weekend before Ramadhan, and hubby – still high from his first “bakar sate” experience - announced that we were going to have another “bakar sate” night… It also turned out to be the 13^th anniversary of Atoque and Kak Da’s wedding – so we called it an all-in-one makan-makan night…

Pokcik, Atoque, Daud and Tan were the first Malaysians (apart from Faizly, Apid and Fahmi who used to stay in the same hostel with me) that I met when I first arrived. Daud was the first sempai who introduced me to Tenya and Saizeriya, and his wife Sarina, who was then 5 months pregnant with their son Riaz, was the first who introduced me to Japanese style “ikan kering”. Atoque almost single handedly assisted me when I moved from Komaba to Gyotoku, and even got a traffic summon in the process. Pokcik helped organizing the Quran class for hubby to teach in Ichikawa Ono as well as some tazkirah sessions in Hira Mosque in Gyotoku. Tan, the Malaysian sempai in my zemi, had been generous with hand-me-down baby furniture – his wife Akiko has decided that they have enough kids (two boys - Kenji and Shouji), so they gave us their baby cot and swinging high chair which are actually meant for Humaidi but currently are often conquered by Huzaifah. Since I enrolled in Waseda at the same time with them – although only as a research student – there’s a kind of strong affinity that I feel towards them. Not the kind of relationship that I had with Kamarol – who graduated in March and now a Tuan Nazir, but I know I am going to miss them (and their respective wives) once they return to Malaysia. That was one of the reasons I insisted on hosting a sayonara dinner for them.

We did not really intend to have a birthday bash for Huzaifah – but since it was on a weekend – we thought, why not? So, hubby ordered a cake from Kak Ita, who’s really good in making cakes and desserts, in the process, extending our invitation to her family as well as their neighbour, Syah and family for the makan-makan. And since Kak Yati, the PA for Human Resource Department in the Malaysian Embassy (who had hosted a dinner for Mak and company when the rombongan Cik Kiah was in Tokyo last year) is also scheduled to return to Malaysia this month, we invited her too. And then, I accidentally met one Bibik who was on the way to visit her sister and niece staying not that far from the mosque at the bus stand, I invited them as well. And since Syahril’s daughter Nuha is only 3 days older than Huzaifah, we thought it would be nice to invite them over too. Syafiq and Basharan topped the list – not merely as guests, but more as assistants. However, as it turned out, Syafiq had decided to return to Malaysia on the 8^th, so while he helped a lot during the perap and cucuk sate session, he missed the real “bakar sate” session. He assured us that we had nothing to worry about since he could go to a lot of places to enjoy the real McCoy back in Malaysia…

All in all we had 6 kg of boneless chicken, 2 kg of boneless beef and 2 kg of boneless mutton transformed into about 450 sticks of satay. I prepared some nasi goreng and peach pudding on the side, but on the day itself, we got additional food contribution – spaghetti bolognaise from Nor (Syah’s wife), korokke (Japanese croquette) from our Indonesian neighbor, a marble cake with "13 Tahun" written on it from Kak Da, a yummilicious banana caramel cake from Kak Normah (who, with his son Arham accompanied Kak Yati) and a huge rectangular birthday cake featuring a boy in a racing car from Kak Ita and Pokcik’s family. And we also prepared some individually wrapped goodies for the kids – 2 sticks of Umai Bo (one each of Cheese and Vegetable Salad flavors), a packet of Fujiya Home Pie and a balloon – plus lots of ice lollies. The kids have fun with soap bubbles too. I bought some for Huzaifah when we came back from the bbq in Yahashira, but he didn’t quite enjoyed our one-on-one bubbles blowing session the way he seemed to do when the Nihonjin kids were blowing theirs on the bbq site. It was good to note that he enjoyed it tremendously that night as the older kids blew the bubbles in the cramped stairways (so that they didn’t get in the way with the “bakar sate” operation at the rooftop, while not exposing Huzaifah to the danger of playing in the car parking area next to the mosque, where the bigger boys were playing)

Kak Mai led the candle-blowing session for Huzaifah as well as the "Allah Selamatkan Kamu" singing session. I put him in a brand new suit of baju melayu, but it was too large for him, so it wasn't long before Huzaifah could be seen donning just the baju melayu top and his diapers pants. I tried making him wore the pants again, but after he repeatedly took it off right after I put it back, I stopped trying and just let him be. I figured so long as he came no where too near the bbq stand, he should be okay, and he seemed to be fine just as he was.

I must say that it was rather exhausting – notwithstanding that the preparation was done in several stages. Tuesday was for buying stuff. When I bought the chicken and beef – the seller in Shin Okubo was surprised when I said that I would carry my purchases back home instead of having them couriered like I normally do. “Omoin da…” the seller noted, as I packed them in my backpack to which I replied “So desune…” just as I finished packing and started carrying the bag on my back. I brought them home first before going out again to buy onions, gingers, snacks etc. Together with hubby and Syafiq, we started working on marinating the meat on Wednesday as well as “cucuk” the chicken and beef satay. Drinks, paper plates, paper cups and plastic cutleries were bought on Friday, the same day Syafiq bought cucumbers. Saturday, Basharan and Hadian assisted hubby in marinating and “cucuk” the mutton satay, while I made the pudding, boiled instant nasi himpit, and later, packed the goodies for kids. Late Saturday night, Basharan, Hadian and hubby started moving needed furniture to the rooftop – bbq stands, tables, chairs, etc. Sunday – morning I started working on kuah kacang, hubby started to defrost the frozen sate by noon, diced the nasi himpit and sliced the cucumbers, and early evening I made nasi goreng, after which hubby started to get the charcoal ready for “bakar sate”. When the first guests started to show up at around 5 o’clock, we were more than ready to receive them…

We didn’t have proper lighting on the rooftop at night – but I guess that didn’t hinder our guests from enjoying themselves. The weather was good, alhamdulillah – just cool enough without being either too cold or too hot. The view was okay – after all we are not really in the middle of Tokyo. The food was good, even if I say so – albeit merely served in disposable paper plates (hubby at first thought that we might use some china belonging to the mosque, to which I immediately disagreed – who was going to help us with the washing up?). But most importantly, the crowd that turned out that night was people I enjoy talking to and being with – and they didn’t seem to mind being in the dark or holding paper plates or using plastic cutleries that much anyway. In fact, many of them said that we should do this again – the ambience was good, the food was simple yet taste good (the nasi goreng erred on the spicy side, but the sate was a huge hit), the adults could enjoy light banters while the kids had a change of play area. The kids too enjoyed the last part of “baker sate”, enthusiastically cried out “Irrashaimase” in the manner akin to a Nihonjin shopkeeper, made believing that they were selling the satay for a price ranging from 100 yen (“Ehh? Iranai. Takai daa..”) to 10 yen (“Jaa… 10 pon onegai shimasu…”) a piece.

The party – if one could call it that – lasted until around 10 o’clock, when the last of our guests - Pokcik's and Kak Ita's family - bid good bye.
But I hope the memory of that night will last a lot longer…
(Well, it definitely left its mark on Huzaifah and hubby - both of them are down with fever since yesterday - Huzaifah from consuming too much ice lollies while hubby probably from too much work. After all, he is quite used to leisurely hours, not long labors...)

Last but not least - Ramadhan Kareem to all Muslims.
Selamat Berpesta Ibadah!

Not quite a real entry

Sorry for not posting an entry for so long.

The main reason?　

Still no internet line at home. Cancelling YahooBB was quick and easy, with no fuss at all. But trying to install @TCom using existing NTT line at the mosque proved to be a real struggle – that in the end we decided to cancel our application to join them. We have decided to go back to YahooBB but the line would only be installed in early October, so there.

During the past one month or so, it was a cross of lots-of-things and nothing-much. Highlights would include:

- Attending and witnessing hanabi taikai (fireworks display) in various places. Hanabi Taikai is a common way for most Japanese to enjoy summer. It’s also one of the best time to witness lots of Japanese wearing yukata (summer kimono made from cotton). And it is a lot more enjoyable than the common at-most-15-minutes-with-not-much-variety firework display we get to see in Malaysia. In Tokyo, the display usually lasts for an hour or so and a friend of ours said that in Sapporo it lasts up to 3 hours…

Ø Went to Kita Senju for Adachi-ku Hanabi Taikai (rather family friendly because it was held on the last Thursday of July, not during the weekend, hence not too crowded or drunken-filled);

Ø Viewed Sumidagawa Hanabi Taikai – the big one which was shown on TV annually – from the rooftop of Asakusa Mosque with hubby and some friends (no Muslimah gathering this year during the last Saturday of July, instead we had a meeting on the second Sunday of August);

Ø Viewed another hanabi taikai from the rooftop from afar – we were not sure whether it’s the one in Matsudo or Iitabashi, but they must had been rather grand because we could still enjoy it from miles away.

Ø Went to Odaiba for Tokyo Wan Dai Hanabi Saimei (Tokyo Bay Grand Fireworks Display) with a few friends, cruising from Asakusa to Odaiba using Water Bus (for the first time), and returned by train (and took about an hour lining up to board the Yurikamome train). It was by far the most colourful fireworks display compared to Sumidagawa Hanabi Taikai, with lots and lots and lots of different types of fireworks. We went at the last minute, so didn’t managed to “book” a nice seating area – and it became worse when pedestrians who were supposed to pass by actually stopped right in front us and simply ignored the loud “mienai” (can’t see) protest by a child sitting right next to us. Hubby went on his own to look for better photography spot, the friends took Huzaifah to a higher spot, leaving me with Akif at a lower area, forcing me to be satisfied with mere glimpses of the actual fireworks while bracing lots of personal “fireworks making” embraces right in front of me. Yes, the fireworks was nice with lots of varieties – resembling smiley sign, sunflower, hearts, great waterfalls, great fountains, planet Saturn – but I don’t think I’ll come back again next year unless we find a really great place to view it way ahead.

- Visited by one esteemed blogger – Kak Lela, accompanied by this blogger, I already told Kak Ani to bring Kak Lela for lunch – but Kak Ani told me that they were coming on the night before they came, when I was in Ichikawa Ono attending a majlis for Isra’ Mikraj, which meant I could not plan the menu well ahead. So that explained the simple menu – plain rice with asam pedas, ikan gelama masin and sayur goreng, with pudding and nashi (Japanese pear) for dessert. Never mind the food – what mattered more, was we – hubby included - hit it off so well, that three hours just flew by in no time at all. Huzaifah too took an instant liking to Kak Lela, “bullying” Kak Lela like he used to “bully” his Embah. Kak Lela remarked that my son is like an ant – wiggling there, wiggling here, never stopping for a minute. Well, that was a first – previously, Huzaifah had been called the Energizer Bunny – as in “dah lah Ujai, auntie dah tak larat, auntie ni bateri biasa je, Ujai ni Energizer…”. Thank you Kak Lela and Kak Ani for making time to visit us. And for not complaining being served lunch and tea in mismatched tableware. Kak Ani – I will never forget your “beg siam” story – thank God I have friends who feels secured enough to wear identical handbags bought at Watson’s.

- Reading lots of story books. I know, I know, I should be doing my literature review – or studying for PTK. But I am a self-confessed procrastinator after all, and old habits die hard and all…

- Hosting one “bakar sate” session which initially was meant for a handful of friends but ended up enjoyed by lots of friends over two days period. It was a request by Syafiq, who brought lots of ingredients from Malaysia – lengkuas, serai, bawang merah, jintan, ketumbar – the works. Basharan, Syafiq, hubby and I spent one whole evening (that morning we had some guests to whom I served some spur-of-the-moment mee bandung which tunerd out okay, alhamdulillah) dicing meat (chicken, beef, mutton) blending spices (for the satay as well as the kuah) and cucuk satay. While Basharan and Sayfiq had previous experience of making satay, it was a first for me. Luckily, the kuah making part is not that difficult since Mak had always shown me how to make kuah kacang during Raya, and I had prepared nasi himpit in advance too. Basharan’s friend, Chee, had to play nanny for Huzaifah for a while and after that become tourist guide for hubby’s father’s friend, a Dean from UKM who was in Tokyo for business who wanted to buy some stuff in Akihabara. Then, Syafiq’s friend, Rinie and her boyfriend Nohara-san, had to babysit Humaidi and Huzaifah respectively while watching us preparing the satay feast. Rinie alleged that Nohara-san is not that good with kids, but I must say that he did okay with Huzaifah, maybe not as brilliant as Syafiq (who must have gotten some tips from Super Nanny), but given that Huzaifah is an Energizer bunny, he wasn’t too bad... Anyway, it turned out our 5kg of chicken, 2 kg of beef and 1 kg of mutton satay (and 1 kg of bbq chicken on a side) was too much to be consumed in a night by 8 adults, so we continued the “bakar sate” thingy the next day with different set of guests – Basharan’s friend, Salehuddin who works for Petronas, Syafiq’s Muslim Japanese friend, Isa-san who married a Tanzanian, Ziah and 3 fellow teachers undergoing Nihongo course (in various universities) and Zafran and family from Hachioji. Basharan had to leave early to meet up with his brother who came to Tokyo on business, but Syafiq stayed through it all. We didn’t have rice for two days because there was plenty of satay to go by, with extra at the end of the day – to date still waiting to be barbequed in the freezer.

School will reopen end of September – so if I didn’t get to update this blog earlier, at least you have been warned…

And last but not least - Happy 50th Merdeka Day to all Malaysians wherever you are...

The meaning of kids' names

The tag on the meaning of one’s kids’ name (and the history of naming them) reached me over a month ago, courtesy of An, an old schoolmate… Sorry for the late response, ye An...

First, some background. Long before I was actually married, I thought that when the time comes, it would be cool if I could be given the right to name the boys and the father to name the girls. I wished to share my initials with my sons, and there were two names that really took my fancy – Azmi Hakimi and Azri Hafizi. No, I had never known any individuals with these two names, but I just thought they sounded cool, with nice meaning.

As it happened, I married someone with the initial MA. After some discussions, we finally agreed to share responsibility in choosing names for our kids, regardless of gender. The rule of thumb is simple – for a boy, the initials would be MAH, the M for Muhammad and a girl’s initial would be AH – as a combination of both parents initials.

1. Huzaifah

In the case of our first born, since we were expecting a girl, we thought of naming the baby Aliyah Hanani. (Aliyah – noble, Hanani – mercy). As it turned out, we got a boy – so the baby remained unnamed for a few days although I was fixed on naming him Azmi.

Why Azmi? Mainly to honor my Ayah, the same way he honored my late Tok Ayah by naming his first son after my Tok Ayah. Azmi (determination) is not Ayah’s formal name, but it is a name used by the family to refer to him.

Hubby had no problem with accepting the Azmi part – but was quite unsure about the Hakimi part. So he referred some kitab, and seeked his uncle (the current Mufti of Negeri Sembilan, who also graced our wedding by reading the khutbah nikah) for some help. Hubby presented three choices of names beginning with H – Hakim (wise), Haziq (intelligent) and Huzaifah – and his uncle quickly chose Huzaifah.

Huzaifah is taken after a sahabah’s name, Huzaifah Al-Yamani. He was one of the select few Rasulullah entrusted with the knowledge of identifying Munafiq. It was said that during his time as Muslim ruler, Saidina Umar would observe whether or not Huzaifah Al-Yamani attend one’s funeral, before deciding whether or not to lead the jenazah prayer for the deceased, as Huzaifah’s absence from a funeral was taken as a sign that the deceased was a Munafiq.

So we named our first son Muhammad Azmi Huzaifah, and I hope, like his namesake, he will grow up to be highly trustworthy too. I already know that he is highly determined －with his gambare spirit obvious…

2. Humaidi

There was no surprise with the gender of our second child. We had been expecting a boy all along, so hubby prepared a list of possible names.

The H part was easy – it was either Humaidi (of praise, commendable) or Husaini (after Saidina Hassan and Hussein, the grandchildren of Rasulullah). We both prefer Humaidi.

The A part was a bit tricky. Hubby thought Aqil (intelligent) would be nice – and so did most of our family members. But I thought Akif (one who iqtikaf in mosque) would be more appropriate to commemorate the fact that we were living in a mosque when he was born. Another point is that since we are in Japan, both the ‘ain and qaf pronunciation of Aqil would be lost when the name is written in katakana – it would end up being pronounced Akiru. However, Akif would not sustain much injury through its katakana pronunciation – Akifu. We even asked our visitors at the hospital as well as friends through emails for a vote – in which, to my delight, Akif eventually won. (Pokcik, who voted for Aqil said that I must had won by extortion, to which I smilingly replied, “tak guna paksaan… guna pujukan je”.)

So there, that’s how we end up naming our second son Muhammad Akif Humaidi

Birth registration for Malaysian baby born in Japan

Since we were rather unfortunate during Humaidi’s registration at the Embassy, hubby suggested me sharing information regarding required documents for birth registration for Malaysian baby born in Japan. When we asked around before we went for the registration, it seemed like most friends had already discarded the list and when we called the consular desk in the Embassy, we didn’t get a full list, so we hope this entry could be helpful for other Malaysians seeking such info.

A child born outside Malaysia can obtain Malaysian nationality if the father is a Malaysian citizen and the baby is registered at the Embassy within one year of birth (before the child becomes 1 year old), notwithstanding the required birth registration at the respective ward/city office within 14 days of birth.

We share here documents needed in a scenario where both parents are Malaysian (it might differ a bit in case the mother is not a Malaysian).

1. Passport of both parents
2. Birth certificate of Malaysia of both parents
3. MyKad of both parents
4. Certificate of marriage/Islamic Certificate of marriage issued by Malaysian government/ Malaysian Islamic Authority
5. Certificate of Alien Registration ("Gaikokujin Toroku Genpyoukisai Jikou Shoumenshou") of both parents, (not the Alien Registration card) issued by ward/city office (must be within 3 months of issuance)
6. Baby’s certificate of birth in unified form issued by the hospital ("Shussei Shoumenshou") or copy of such document issued by ward/city office
7. Birth registration certificate (in boshi techo) issued by ward/city office
8. Passport sized (5 x 3.5 cm) photos of baby faces the front and both eyes open.

Additional notes：

Make three photocopies of all required documents in A-4 sized paper.

Photocopy of passport requires pages with records of passport number, personal information, visa, extension (if applicable) and signature of holder.

Photocopy of MyKad must show both front and back on the same page

In case where original copies of documents 2, 3, 4 are not available, certified true copies could be accepted. Documents could be certified as true copies by Malaysian Embassy/Consulate officers.

Applications could only be made from 9.00 a.m. – 12.00 p.m. on working days. Consular desk telephone number is 03- 3476 38409, fax is 03-3476 4971

I said three copies, since most parents also apply for baby’s passport on the same day, which basically require similar documents. For those living outside Tokyo, you could even ask for same day delivery of baby’s passport (non chip-based) by consulting the Consular officer in advance.

5 copies of baby’s passport-sized photos are needed – 2 for birth registration, 2 for the passport and another for the Embassy record. It has to be Malaysian style passport photos – 5 x 3.5 cm with blue background – so, it could not be taken in the ordinary photo kiosk. There’s one photo shop next to Donki Hote (Don Quixote actually, following its katakana pronunciation) outlet in Shibuya where such photos could be taken. Hubby tried asking at a few photo shops in Asakusa, but none could accommodate the required blue back or the different size. The photographer took 9 shots before we finally got an acceptable pose from the baby, so be patient. If I’m not mistaken, 6 copies of the photos cost us about 3000 yen. But if you are a good photographer, has suitable blue back and color printer, you might want to opt for a home-made Malaysian-style passport photo.

Humaidi's first passport photo, taken a week before he turned 3 months old

Huzaifah's first passport photo, taken when he was a little over 3 months old

For mothers, please ask for two original copies of Certificate of birth before leaving the hospital after childbirth. One is needed for the birth registration at ward/city office while another is for the birth registration at the Embassy. A photocopy (or a copy from the ward/city office) is needed for the child’s visa application. I only got one original copy of Certificate of birth at the hospital, so I needed to get the copy from the ward office which cost 350 yen each.

And lastly, don't forget to bring the baby along for the registration/passport application because they need to get baby’s fingerprints…

UPDATE

Hafiizh and Jan from Hitachi, Ibaraki requested me to add 3 more points:

1. To bring along Certificate of Alien Registration for the baby, obtained from the ward/city office. That blue card, instead of the normal Alien Card for adults, issued for kids below 16 years. And respective copies.

2. To get Jyuri Shoumensho from the ward/city office. I have no idea what this is exactly since I was not asked for it.

3. To bring enough money and avoid going to the (not-so-near) nearest kombini - more than 6000 yen for both baby's passport and registration. Baby's passport is RM150, but the price in yen changes monthly, in accordance with the current exchange rate.

So there...

Sometimes...

I feel like I want to
Look at baby Humaidi all day long...
Let his still tiny fingers grip my not-so-tiny ones
Softly massage his chubby yet fluffy body
Goo-goo gaa-gaa back as he attempts goo- goo gaa-gaaing
Smile back at his toothless smiles

He is over 100 days old now
Could no longer fit real "newborn" clothes
Yet sometimes,
I still feel like
I want to keep holding him all day long
Look at him all day long
Cuddle him all day long
Just like the way I felt on the day he was born

That's normal, right?

Felt so touched...

1. Being told “I was so happy to see you on the train” by a French Muslim soccer player (of Moroccan origin) who is currently in Tokyo, trying out his luck with several Japanese soccer clubs.

He and his two fellow French Muslim (one also of Morocan origin, the other of Algerian). I was on my way back home from school that night, when he came near me and greeted “Assalamualaikum”. He asked if I know any halal restaurant in Asakusa, to which I said yes. He gave me a piece of paper, asking me to write the direction to go there. It was a bit difficult to draw the map since he was not very familiar with the area, so I volunteered to show them the place myself. There are two restaurants serving halal meat in Asakusa – one is Siddique and the other Shagorika. But I usually direct people to Shagorika, because the owner, Brother Kamal (a Bangladeshi) and his workers usually pray Jumuah at Asakusa Mosque, and Brother Kamal too had personally contributed some food to the mosque on several occasions previously.

When we reached the restaurant, I personally introduced the soccer players to brother Kamal. Initially they said that they would like to go back to their hostel to shower and come back to the restaurant later, but upon learning that they could also buy take-outs, they opted for the latter. The leader of the troop, the first guy who greeted me, asked me to order something for me and hubby, as his treat. I asked for cheese nan and tandoori chicken like his two friends, and we chatted a bit while waiting for our order.

“I was so happy to see you on the train,” he said. Because tudung-clad Muslimah is not an everyday sight in Tokyo. And somehow it is comforting to see a fellow Muslim in a foreign land. And he was so happy to meet someone who is able to direct them to a halal eating place and the mosque.

#####

2. Being told that I am a most treasured friend by an equally treasured friend (you know who you are)

Like I said – I am only human. I tried to help where possible, I tried to give wherever possible, but I am not flawless. And when I give, I try not to expect anything in return from fellow human beings – because everything comes from Allah. There would be times when we find ourselves indebted to some kind souls, yet at other times we found others feeling that they are indebted to us…

And then there’s also that “tidak sempurna iman seseorang sehingga dia mengasihi saudaranya sebagaimana dia mengasihi diri sendiri” part that I try to live with…

#####

3. Being told that I write well.

I know I have a lot more to learn, but being complimented so, by a more popular blogger (if numbers of comments left in the blog could be the base of one's popularity), well, stirred something inside me. Thank you kak D!

Shuffle My Music - Part 2

Since I got less than half correct answers for the music shuffle tag thingy, I thought why shouldn’t I post another entry on the answers (nicked this idea from Theta’s blog, actually, heheheh)

So here goes nothing – where possible, clicking on the song’s title will link it to the video clip at YouTube.

1. Telah ku mungkiri janjiku lagi/ walau seribu kali kuulang sendiri/ aku takkan tempuh lagi - Mirwana x Jay Jay, "Aku Tanpa CintaMu"

2. Oh Allah the Almighty, protect me and guide me / to Your love and mercy – Sami Yusuf, “Hasbi Rabbi”

3. Kimi ga ima koko ni iru koto/ tobikiri no unmei ni/ kokoro kara arigatou – SMAP, “Dear Woman” (Tsubaki syampoo advertisement song)

4. Agar terlerai kesangsian hati ini/ Sekadar air mata tak mampu membasuhi dosa ini – Hijjaz, “Sebelum Terlena”

5. Cause who used to hold you, and clean you and clothe you? / who used to feed you and always be with you? – Yusuf Islam and Friends (Rashid Bikha) “Your Mother” (as often heard on RTM - who next? Your mother, who next? Your mother…and then your faaather…)

6. Shinjiyou/ futari dakara/ai shiaeru - Ito Yuna, "Precious" (theme song for Limit of Love, Umizaru 3)

7. Boku no me wa/ kimi shika utsuranai – Kinki Kids “Hakka Candy” (theme song for Moto Kare)

8. Diciptakan manusia sebaik-baiknya supaya menjadi insan berguna/ agar beriman dan bertaqwa – Hijjaz “Zapin Kesyukuran” (aka nasyid terkejut because its starting “Subhanallah” could actually made some people terkejut)

9. Now I ‘m alone filled with so much shame / for all the years I caused you pain - Sami Yusuf, "Mother"

10. Tangan yang disangka lembut menghayun buaian/ mengoncang dunia mencipta sejarah - Hijjaz, "Sumayyah"

11. Atsui namida ya koi sakebino/ kagayakeru hi wa doko e kietano – Keisuke Kuwata “Ashita Harerukana” (theme song of Propose Daisakusen aka Celebration Love)

12. Ku harap dia adalah yang terbaik buatku / kerana Engkau tahu segala isi hatiku/ Pelihara daku dari kemurkaanMu – InTeam, “Doa Seorang Kekasih” (our wedding song – played during the cake cutting ceremony)

13. When you find that special someone/ Feel your whole life has barely begun/ You can walk on the moon, shout it to everyone – Zain Bikha x Dawud Wharnsby “Allah Knows”

14. Sabishii toki wa/ato sukoshi tsukiatte/ umaku hanashi o kiite kurenai ka - Hirai Ken, "Kimi wa Tomodachi" (theme song for Wonderful Life )

15. Kokoro no koe wa/kimi ni todoku no kana/ chinmoku no uta ni notte – Mr Children, “Shirushi” (theme song for 14 sai no Haha)

16. Kekasih sejati teman yang berbudi/ kasihnya bukan keterpaksaan – In Team “Nur Kasih” (my cousin Azman’s wedding song)

17. Dosa-dosaku bagaikan pepasir di pantai/ dengan rahmatMu ampunkan daku Oh Tuhan ku – Raihan, “Iktiraf”

18. No you can’t take your big screen TV/ nor your variety of DVDs/ No you can’t take your designer shoes - Zain Bikha x Dawud Wharnsby, "Can"t Take it With You"

19. Arigatou to kimi iwareru to/ nandaka setsunai/ sayonara no ato mo tokenu mahou/awaku horonigai - Utada Hikaru, "Flavor of Life" (song often played in Hana Yori Dango 2)

20. Iman tak dapat diwarisi dari seorang ayah yang bertaqwa/ Ia tak dapat dijualbeli/ Ia tiada di tepian pantai- Raihan, "Iman Mutiara"

21. Hontou no yume wa itsumo soba ni aru/ hateshinaku hiroi sekai hitotsu dake kagayaita – Arashi “We Can Make It” (theme song for Bambino)

22. Omoi dashita keshiki wa/ tabidatsu ni no kirei na sora dakishimete - Shuuji to Akira, "Seishun Amigo" (theme song for Nobuta o Produce)

23. Bahagia itu ada di jiwa/ mahkota di singgahsana rasa/bahagia itu adalah suatu ketenangan – UNIC “Hakikat Bahagia”

24. You, you’re not aware that we’re aware of your despair/ don’t show your tears to your oppressor - Sami Yusuf x Outlandish "Try Not To Cry"

25. Diam-diamlah sayang, jangan menangis/ doakan ayah semoga diterima - Ae-man (Originally by Nadamurni), "Di Pondok Kecil"

See Zyrin, I told you I mostly listen to a lot of Japanese dorama’s theme songs…

No circumcision just yet

Called up San Iku Kai Hospital this morning. Asked for Iga-san, the nurse/surgery coordinator with whom I had a long interview last week regarding Humaidi’s circumcision procedure. Just to inform her that I’m canceling the appointment for Humaidi’s circumcision.

Why?

Because his Embah and Tok Ayah said so.

Mak called up last night – just to make sure that we didn’t go on with the plan to circumcise Humaidi this week. Not with full body anesthesia. They are cool with it only if local anesthetic is used – unfortunately we couldn’t find such procedure here.

“Do you know how many people did not survive full body anesthetic? 2 percent. Why risk being that 2 percent only for circumcision?,” Mak practically shrieked at me via the phone last Saturday. “I would be very disappointed if you go on and do it. Kalau anak Mak, Mak tak buat...” she continued when I lamely mumbled something along the line of isn’t everything involves risks.

When Iga-san asked for explanation on the sudden decision not to circumcise (Humaidi is supposed to be hospitalized tomorrow), I told her that the baby’s ojiichan and obaachan in Malaysia are worried and do not want us to do it. She asked if we would like to book another date, but I just told her that we will just wait until the baby grows older and bigger, so no thanks, no alternative date is necessary.

So, no circumcision adventure to share, after all.

A note of thanks...

A note of thanks to:

1. Kit – for her unending support and for sending me Dina Zaman’s “I am Muslim” as a combo belated-birthday-and-congratulations-on-new-baby gift. I finished reading the book the night of the day I got it. I have started to enjoy reading Dina Zaman’s writing back when I was still a teenager, chuckling over her musings in Din’s Dalca. Have always been a follower of her blogs before they went defunct and currently a follower of her column in The Star. I have read parts of “I am Muslim” when Malaysiakini began allowing readers to read Rentakini without having to pay subscription fees. Like Kit I found the book refreshing and an eye-opener. Unlike Dina, I don’t know any murtad person(or at least someone who openly declare him/herself to be murtad), I don’t have gay friends, I never exchange e-mails with tudung clad possible lesbian-wannabe and I don’t think any of my friends lost their virginity before marriage. So yes, reading Dina’s writing enable me to see Kuala Lumpur and its people differently. Her writing has always been “refreshing” as I gasped, gawked, chuckled, nodded and shook my head in due course. Not that I agree with everything that she has to say, but then again – that is exactly why I read her writings – to get a different viewpoints. And learn new things. And learn to appreciate differences so that I could learn and think about ways to bridge gaps between Muslims in different forms (than the ones I am used to.)

2. DPA 2001 colleagues undergoing JICA training in Tokyo – Joe, Zaini and Kak Wan - for taking the time to visit our family in Asakusa despite their tight schedule. And I thank Fary for being the guide. Joe obligingly brought a bottle of Gripe water for my colicky baby and 1 kg of Milo for the Milo-holic parents, while Kak Wan generously presented me a bottle of Kimball chilli sauce and some packets of instant santan. Loved how they gushed over my masak lemak cili api, sweet-and-sour salmon and ayam goreng, as they were going for a 2 weeks course in Tochigi and knew that it would be some time before they could eat Malaysian food (or at least food cooked a`la Malaysian style – because I know I would never cook sweet-and-sour salmon in Malaysia. Bawal is more like it). A note to Tini - I am sure I have invited you to my home before, but in case I haven't made myself clear, please come visit us anytime you are free :-)

3. DPA 2001 ex-classmate, Amal, who had offered to bring a lot of goodies from Malaysia (although I have to pay for them - but these things are a lot cheaper in Malaysia and some could not be found in Japan). Am going to ask him to bring back some stuff to Malaysia on my behalf too... Amal with his usual 'poyo'ness (which I never really minded because whatever else he is, Amal could be a reliable friend) earlier remarked that if we couldn't find to meet up, then maybe he could ask some lower guy to send the stuff direct to my place, now that he is an M48 officer (and yours truly have not even sit for PTK 1 yet - but have already signed up to sit for it in December). But Shah, another ex-classmate who is currently studying in Tokyo too - has told me that he is going to take Amal to visit Asakusa on Saturday. Should be interesting to hear Amal's take on this and that as it has been quite some time since I last listened to his poyoness...

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Special thanks to Hubby for being so accommodating when Humaidi turned 3 month old yesterday.

We went to Shibuya to register Humaidi’s birth at the Embassy as well as make his passport. I have called the consular office before, to find out what are the documents needed. I thought we had them all, but turned out the copy of birth registration that we got from the hospital (which we paid over 4000 yen for) was not the one the Embassy wants. Hubby offered to take care of the kids at the Embassy while I took care of other matters.

So I went alone to Ueno to get a copy of the wanted birth registration form from Taito-ku Ward Office (where I submitted the original in order to get a “birth certificate” label to be pasted in my/Humaidi’s boshi techo). As well as getting hubby’s and my certificate of alien registration (not to be mistaken with the Alien registration card that we carry everywhere). While I was already at the Ward office, also managed to fill up tax form, confirmed that both hubby and I are not eligible to pay tax, as well as got a discount for health insurance installments. We got a huge discount – we only need to pay up until July and no more until March next year since the amount we already paid is sufficient for the whole fiscal year (which begins in April).

As we were in the mood to celebrate Humaidi’s 3-months birthday, and the weather was gorgeously sunshiny, we went to Ebisu Garden Place after leaving the Embassy. Bought a 5 flavor Special Day ice cream (only on sale on the 5th, 15th and 25th) at Haagen Dazs shared by Huzaifah, hubby and I while the birthday boy drooled.

Next, we went searching for Hiroo Mosque (also known as Arab Islamic Institute) which is actually closer to Roppongi than Hiroo. Had some difficulty to locate it at first, until we met a florist who gave the right direction. Funny to note that so far we had found two different mosques (the other being Otsuka Mosque) with the help of florists. Prior to that we tried asking a patrolling policeman and a security guard at an apartment block but both were ignorant of the mosque’s existence. In fact the security guard asked back in shock “Nihon ni mosuke ga aru?” (There is a mosque in Japan?), to which I laughingly answered “Atta yo. Ippai mo” (Of course. A lot too). Wonderful sights (Roppongi Hills and Tokyo Tower), modern (with elevators and vending machines inside mosque plus great sound system), big, clean, nice-smelling toilets and ablution area (even equipped with diaper-changing fold-out table) - it goes without saying that Hiroo Mosque is of of the nicest mosques in town, perhaps second only after Tokyo Camii. Hubby waited until Isyak there, but by then it was getting more difficult to control our ever active Huzaifah.

Noticing that I was already tired and walking with a slight limp (my right calf hurt like hell), hubby sportingly suggested dining out. Thus we went to Roppongi and had dinner at Aladdin Restaurant. It is more exclusive (read: expensive) than most halal restaurants we usually frequent, but I love the fact that there was no alcohol served there even though it is located right across a liquor store. Hubby too got to practice his rusty Arabic as he chatted with the Egyptian restaurant staff.

#####

Internet connection at home is currently in limbo between cancellation (of Softbank BB) and new installation (of @TCOM). Am posting this (and the previous) entry from school, but I don’t go to school often now (just once a week). So please bear my temporary hiatus until we get it all sorted out and I get a proper 24/7 broadband connection at home again.

Complicated...

Honestly, I didn't know that circumcision in Japan could be oh-so-complicated.

Went to San Iku Kai hospital this morning, taking Humaidi to what I thought was going to be his circumcision. It was that simple with Huzaifah when we did it in Malaysia. We got ourselves an appointment first, and on the said day brought him to the medical center, where Ayah took him inside the operation theatre and it was all over in less than half an hour. The doctor gave us some medicine and then we could go back home. Then, the outer skin fell off the bell-hop after 5 days...

Humaidi first met the surgeon who does circumcision about two months back, when we were advised to see the doctor after Humaidi is over 3 months old. He gave us an appointment for today, so I mistakenly thought that Humaidi was going to be circumcised today.

Turned out, it was another consultation session – the surgeon just want to check baby’s condition before giving the go-ahead for the real thing. The nurses took some blood sample (in a different room, but I could hear him howling in protest… poor baby) to determine his blood type and to check for any signs of infections. No circumcision for infected babies or those having flu/cold. No immunization within one month prior to, and after circumcision. Yup – they are that particular.

Next, the surgeon gave me an outline of the schedule. Humaidi will need to be hospitalized for 3 days. On day 1, he will first meet a paediatrician. Only if he is given a clean bill of health, then he could be warded. He will then will have to be x-rayed. Followed by ECG.

Day 2 will be the actual surgery day. It will be a 30 minutes surgery, during which he will be wearing the gas mask. I was surprised by the gas mask part. The surgeon assured me that putting the baby under the gas mask will be a lot safer than just applying local anesthetic. I can be sure that the baby will not be moving around so the surgeon will be able to carry out his work quickly and more efficiently. Oh…

Day 3, he will be discharged if he develops no symptoms of infections. Then he will have to be brought to the hospital in a week’s time for a final check-up by the surgeon.

The surgeon then explained a lot of documents to be signed and to be brought to the hospital on the day Humaidi is to be hospitalized. Agreements on this and that. He advised me to seek some help from Japanese-educated friend to understand the content of all the documents before signing them. Stuff like I understand that allowing my son to go through this procedure involves risks for pain during peeing and as such. I nodded dutifully. Basharan is coming to visit us tomorrow – so he will be my sensei. (But our good friend Mizan will always be our main sensei – in fact I have already named him as point of reference in case of emergency for this time, like I did when I was admitted to give birth to Humaidi)

Will share more of this circumcision adventure next week insya Allah. As it is, Humaidi is scheduled to be hospitalized next Wednesday, and circumcised on Thursday…

Things that make me go "errrrr...."

1. News on negligence for a supposed-to-be-simple circumcision procedure in Malaysia has caused me to lose some sleep. I have an appointment for Humaidi to be circumcised this coming Friday in San Iku Kai hospital, where I gave birth to him. Huzaifah was circumcised when he was only 4 days old, but here, circumcision could only be performed on person over 3 months old, due to the anesthetic used. My cousin Hafiz who is studying medicine in Australia reassured me that the negligence cases in circumcision is very, very rare… but still, it does got me rattled…

2. Long before I was married, Mak spelled it out quite clearly that we should not depend on her and Ayah to take care of our children. However, as it was, Mak was the one who took care of Huzaifah for the first 6 months of his life. Now that I have two kids to look after, Mak has asked me to consider sending Huzaifah back to Malaysia, so that it would be easier for me to study/write my dissertation. Mak said that while it is probably best for kids to be raised by their own parents, circumstances may differ from person to person and time to time. Ayah asked me to seriously consider this too. I casually cautioned Ayah that having extra energetic Huzaifah around might cause his Tok Ayah to be extra letih. But Ayah just said “bagus lah, cucu aktif, nanti Tok Ayah pun aktif la sama…” Hubby said he is leaving the final say entirely to me…

3. My younger brother is going to get married in November. I would very much like to go back at least for the kenduri sambut menantu. I believe Mak will be glad to have someone else to see to details of the kenduri. And these things could only be done in person, there in Malaysia, not by someone who is thousands of miles away. But there are other more pressing (financial) matter that we have to handle right now, so I am not sure whether or not I will be able to go back home for his wedding…

4. I don’t think I fit in my current zemi (sort of homeroom, where students who share the same supervisor belong to). I actually asked for a different supervisor, but upon entrance as full time student, was assigned to this. My proposed thesis has nothing to do with the so-called expertise area of my supervisor. I was hoping to be able to mix (and practice Nihongo) with more Nihonjin in zemi since I am not attending a lot of classes now, but there is none in my zemi. None. Instead Mandarin is often spoken in the zemi when I understand zilch. Frankly, I am jealous of other zemis where the members seem to get along so well, able to go on trips together, hang out after class, celebrate birthdays, and the Nihonjin members helping their gaijin zemi counterparts with stuff like explaining letters/notices or making phone calls in Nihongo in time of need. Mine? Well, for a start, none of them visited me at the hospital or merely called to congratulate me when I gave birth to Humaidi even after I told the zemi’s ‘monitor’ the happy news. Oh, and the monitor herself sometimes call me “Arza”. I seriously feel like changing my zemi, but I have been advised by others not to do it, because we never know if we might end up having the current supervisor as the second examiner who might not take the decision to change to another zemi very kindly…

5. Huzaifah is still not talking in any language his parents could understand even when we are only using BM exclusively. I know, the positive effect of using three different languages while he was a baby might not show just yet, but I really wish that he could talk properly now. I have seen parents with toddlers his age able to actually chat with each other yet Huzaifah is still stuck at having “ta-ta” as the only vocabulary that his parents could understand…