Yeay! Today is the last working Saturday for Malaysian civil servants. I hope the government will retain this 5-days week policy for good. Aaammmiiiiinnnnn :-)
Anyway – I’ve been wanting to blog about so many things but somehow could not find enough time doing so, here’s a quick note on this and that: -
# Firstly, I think it’s not only appropriate, but almost necessary, to applaud Aiz for a job well done with PPS. Like so many other Malaysian bloggers, I am glad that I can rely on this blog-tal, not only to increase my own readership, but to enable me sneaking a peek at other people’s thoughts and views. In a way, PPS is almost akin to KL Sentral Station – where blogs with different voices, nuances and definitions all come together under one roof just like KTM trains, Komuter, Putra LRT and Monorail all congregate at Sentral… Happy belated 2nd birthday PPS and here’s wishing that you will live on and on and on...
# Then, there’s that recommendation by this blogger to err, write a memorandum on this issue. The so-called issue on misuse and abuse of the Internet by civil servant is rather close to my heart since I use the e-mail a lot not only for official uses but also to interact with friends and colleagues; I make a lot of friends and also keep in touch with both friends and family via Yahoo Messenger and I blog. And yes, I do receive lots of funny and not-so-funny video via the email as well as downloading stuff on my own. I’ll try to write more about this some day, insya Allah.
# Next, there was this heartfelt plea by this blogger on this issue that actually stirred something inside me to share my own experience. But then again, I guess since Ayah had trained me to wear tudung since I was eight and I actually started to wear tudung properly (as in – at school, after school and even at home whenever non-mahram visited) when I was about 11, I guess my story won’t be as interesting as those who actually has to find real courage and strength to don the hijab, like this girl. Still, at the end of the day, I guess I worry more about those who are already wearing the hijab but are not showing qualities as Muslim women… (those who wear tudung but don’t mind losing their virginity before marriage, wear tudung but matched with really sexy outfits, wear tudung but indulge in heavy petting at public places – the kind of girls who got written about in Mastika and covered in NTV7’s Edisi Siasat a while back)… The kind which make some people come out with remarks such as “baik tak payah pakai tudung…” I worry about them as I worry about the trials and tribulations the future generation have to face in maintaining their dignity and modesty as practising Malay Muslim women.
# Then, another note by this blogger also actually touched somewhere deep inside since currently hubby is a ‘monthly husband’ and we have been a long-distance couple since our first month of marriage. Come September, when I have to fly to Japan to pursue my masters degree in Waseda and leave both him and baby behind first (for him to finish his course and then to apply for unpaid leave and for baby to get all her required early immunisation shots), it’ll be about five or six months before we’ll get reunited. It’s going to be very difficult being away from both a newborn baby and hubby. But nobody said that it would be easy. Besides, I believe if both of us do what we have to do as in accordance to Allah’s plan for us, then we should not be sad neither should we feel afraid as He promises that He will be with those who are patient…
This old nasyid below by Suara Hati, as I got on e-mail this morning, somehow reminded me that for those who have to be apart from their loved ones for a long time, life could be sweeter when we remind ourselves that it’s all in Allah’s will, not ours.
PERTEMUAN BUKAN MILIK KITA
Pertemuan menghadiahkan kita kasih sayang
Jika cinta satu pasti bertemu ia tidak ternilai
Kerana antara hati kita
Telah tiada antaranya lagi
Yang ada hanya cinta kasih Ilahi
Kita berpisah hanya sementara
Kerana pertemuan bukan milik kita
Jasad dan suara berjauhan sentiasa
Namun cinta abadi
Biar terpisah selalu menderita
Kerana syurga menagih ujian
Sedang neraka dipagari oleh nikmat
Bertemu tidak jemu berpisah tak gelisah
Bicara kita adalah bicara sufi
Tanpa suara dan kata-kata
Kerana penghubung kita adalah suara hati
Bertemu berpisah kerana Allah
Lagu: Suara Hati
Lirik: Pahrol Mohd Juoi
Saturday, June 25, 2005
Friday, June 24, 2005
Welcome to the mother's world
Wore the ‘uniform’ for the first time at work today and caught some attention for it. I’m nearing my seventh month and this morning was the first time my colleagues saw me in a maternity dress. It’s a typical dress - ankle length, long sleeved, one piece with some frills above the abdomen area. I must admit that it was quite difficult to find a ready-made dress that suits me since apparently affordable long sleeved, full length maternity dresses that could fit a 5’5” person are not that easily available. I bought two pairs earlier – but I found them to be a bit senteng, so I feel a bit reluctant to wear them to the office.
However, yesterday I was in luck as I found two nice pairs (similar patterns in different colours) that suit me well in Nilai 3. I don’t shop in Nilai 3 all that often, but I was in Bandar Seri Putra so I thought I might as well try looking in the nearby Nilai 3. Actually, right after work yesterday, I went to Bandar Seri Putra to bid my farewell & bon voyage to Masni and her husband Ayie before their departure to UK. Ayie is going to pursue his PhD in Cardiff – Masni’s former university. Masni has been one of my closest buddies since high school and we’ve always kept in touch all these years, so I really did not want to miss saying good bye this time around. I’ve known her whole family too and was pleased to meet them at Masni’s place as well as to sample her mother’s cooking. Since I missed lunch and was really famished by the time I arrived there, I was delighted to be served with all sort of nice food – bihun goreng, rice with assorted lauks, cucur peneram and nice preserved mangoes and buah kuini for dessert. Well, I supposed we all know how pregnant mothers can get excited about all these jeruk stuff, kan?
After bidding proper good bye - hugs, pats on tummy and all - I then moved on to Nilai 3. I went there with my 19-year old cousin Firdhaus, who acted as my consultant, as we went shop-hopping, looking for suitable wear. I liked some of the two-pieces on sale, however since they were mostly pants ( which I could not wear to work) and the skirts were short, I had no choice but to limit my selection on the one-piece long dresses. It was rather frustrating to note that the nicer ones always came in unsuitable designs for me – either they were short or ¾ sleeved or they were knee length. But then again, since I don’t feel like getting my maternity dress tailor-made, I have to settle for what’s available off the rack, so I made my two new purchases albeit accepting that they were a bit short on the back. Bought some loose blouses too, that can be paired with some pants or skirts. At least I can alternate between wearing the dresses and some blouses.
So, I wore my new dress this morning, peach coloured with a matching tudung.
Saliah, my colleague who had been insisting on me wearing the ‘uniform’ seemed really thrilled to finally see me in it and even asked me to parade it in front of her. So did Raihan, another mak buyung who’s in her eight month but had started wearing her ‘uniform’ a couple of months ago. Even my next door neighbour Mohana, who’s still recovering from some fever, could not help herself commenting on how obviously pregnant I look in the ‘uniform’ (all these while, they have been commenting on how small my bump is). Well, who could help but grinning at all those comments, huh?
I guess, putting on the maternity dress for the first time at work could be quite a memorable experience – especially when one receives a comment like I did from Kak Wan, a senior officer, as we passed each other in the pantry this morning;
“Welcome to the mother’s world”
However, yesterday I was in luck as I found two nice pairs (similar patterns in different colours) that suit me well in Nilai 3. I don’t shop in Nilai 3 all that often, but I was in Bandar Seri Putra so I thought I might as well try looking in the nearby Nilai 3. Actually, right after work yesterday, I went to Bandar Seri Putra to bid my farewell & bon voyage to Masni and her husband Ayie before their departure to UK. Ayie is going to pursue his PhD in Cardiff – Masni’s former university. Masni has been one of my closest buddies since high school and we’ve always kept in touch all these years, so I really did not want to miss saying good bye this time around. I’ve known her whole family too and was pleased to meet them at Masni’s place as well as to sample her mother’s cooking. Since I missed lunch and was really famished by the time I arrived there, I was delighted to be served with all sort of nice food – bihun goreng, rice with assorted lauks, cucur peneram and nice preserved mangoes and buah kuini for dessert. Well, I supposed we all know how pregnant mothers can get excited about all these jeruk stuff, kan?
After bidding proper good bye - hugs, pats on tummy and all - I then moved on to Nilai 3. I went there with my 19-year old cousin Firdhaus, who acted as my consultant, as we went shop-hopping, looking for suitable wear. I liked some of the two-pieces on sale, however since they were mostly pants ( which I could not wear to work) and the skirts were short, I had no choice but to limit my selection on the one-piece long dresses. It was rather frustrating to note that the nicer ones always came in unsuitable designs for me – either they were short or ¾ sleeved or they were knee length. But then again, since I don’t feel like getting my maternity dress tailor-made, I have to settle for what’s available off the rack, so I made my two new purchases albeit accepting that they were a bit short on the back. Bought some loose blouses too, that can be paired with some pants or skirts. At least I can alternate between wearing the dresses and some blouses.
So, I wore my new dress this morning, peach coloured with a matching tudung.
Saliah, my colleague who had been insisting on me wearing the ‘uniform’ seemed really thrilled to finally see me in it and even asked me to parade it in front of her. So did Raihan, another mak buyung who’s in her eight month but had started wearing her ‘uniform’ a couple of months ago. Even my next door neighbour Mohana, who’s still recovering from some fever, could not help herself commenting on how obviously pregnant I look in the ‘uniform’ (all these while, they have been commenting on how small my bump is). Well, who could help but grinning at all those comments, huh?
I guess, putting on the maternity dress for the first time at work could be quite a memorable experience – especially when one receives a comment like I did from Kak Wan, a senior officer, as we passed each other in the pantry this morning;
“Welcome to the mother’s world”
Thursday, June 23, 2005
The Johor - Melaka Trip, Part III
The last leg of our trip was kind of lame, but it was basically the only time hubby and I actually spent some time alone. In effect, we went on a long, educational date of some sort and by the end of the day, my feet really hurt from the four-hours non stop walk… We walked all over Melaka City Centre – all around the major historical sites - Stadhuys, St Paul hill, A Famosa, Independence Square, etc.
We toured two museums, even walked to the Maritime museum (well known for the huge old ship structure), but by then I was too tired and pleaded with hubby not to enter it. The Muzium Budaya, located in the replica of the Sultanate Palace (next to A Famosa ruins) is recommended for parents with school-aged children. From what I’d seen, heard and experienced that day – the children there seemed to enjoy getting a glimpse of Melaka during its glorious days as Venice of the East. And to think that the entrance fee is only RM2 per adult! The Islamic Museum, located next to the Museum of Arts and Beauty not far from Dataran Kemerdekaan, still has a lot of room for improvement in terms of content and display. But since we only paid RM1 each for entrance fee, I won’t complain much.
I’ve been told by Abang Azrain that food really doesn’t cost that much in Melaka compared to KL. So, hubby and I decided to have our lunch in Klebang, before we went to Melaka city centre. I must admit that I was pleased to note that our lunch, consisting mee bandung, mee goreng (with fried egg on the side), rojak buah, kopi ginseng, soya bean drinks and two mugs of warm water only cost us RM10.50. The same menu would’ve easily cost us about RM15.00 in KL.
Cheap food - everything on the table only cost us RM10.50
Stopped by at Lendu to visit one of hubby’s many mak angkats. He has a few mak angkat actually – a few I’ve never have any opportunity to meet so far. As a student in Egypt, he used to act as tourist guide during holidays, and in the process got a few nice makcik to care for him and became his mak angkat.
This particular mak angkat of his is one nice lady who, unfortunately, has been left by her husband who marries another younger girl. But she never bitches about it. Photos of her husband still hang proudly in her home – he never divorces her, but simply left without leaving any news of his whereabouts or providing any support. Still, she seems perfectly content to be at home – entertaining herself with raising some deers, some peacocks, taking care of a small fruit orchard and operating a small business selling air mussoffa (holy water of some sort, produced by certain qualified persons writing selected Quranic verses using ink made from saffron around white plates or something to that effect). She always look so calm and at peace with herself that sometimes I could not help thinking what a pity that the husband fails to appreciate such a wonderful gem as this lady.
But then again, sometimes people do take their blessings for granted, right?
We toured two museums, even walked to the Maritime museum (well known for the huge old ship structure), but by then I was too tired and pleaded with hubby not to enter it. The Muzium Budaya, located in the replica of the Sultanate Palace (next to A Famosa ruins) is recommended for parents with school-aged children. From what I’d seen, heard and experienced that day – the children there seemed to enjoy getting a glimpse of Melaka during its glorious days as Venice of the East. And to think that the entrance fee is only RM2 per adult! The Islamic Museum, located next to the Museum of Arts and Beauty not far from Dataran Kemerdekaan, still has a lot of room for improvement in terms of content and display. But since we only paid RM1 each for entrance fee, I won’t complain much.
I’ve been told by Abang Azrain that food really doesn’t cost that much in Melaka compared to KL. So, hubby and I decided to have our lunch in Klebang, before we went to Melaka city centre. I must admit that I was pleased to note that our lunch, consisting mee bandung, mee goreng (with fried egg on the side), rojak buah, kopi ginseng, soya bean drinks and two mugs of warm water only cost us RM10.50. The same menu would’ve easily cost us about RM15.00 in KL.
Cheap food - everything on the table only cost us RM10.50
Stopped by at Lendu to visit one of hubby’s many mak angkats. He has a few mak angkat actually – a few I’ve never have any opportunity to meet so far. As a student in Egypt, he used to act as tourist guide during holidays, and in the process got a few nice makcik to care for him and became his mak angkat.
This particular mak angkat of his is one nice lady who, unfortunately, has been left by her husband who marries another younger girl. But she never bitches about it. Photos of her husband still hang proudly in her home – he never divorces her, but simply left without leaving any news of his whereabouts or providing any support. Still, she seems perfectly content to be at home – entertaining herself with raising some deers, some peacocks, taking care of a small fruit orchard and operating a small business selling air mussoffa (holy water of some sort, produced by certain qualified persons writing selected Quranic verses using ink made from saffron around white plates or something to that effect). She always look so calm and at peace with herself that sometimes I could not help thinking what a pity that the husband fails to appreciate such a wonderful gem as this lady.
But then again, sometimes people do take their blessings for granted, right?
Friday, June 10, 2005
The Johor - Melaka Trip, Part II
Day 2 – Sunday
I really pity my sister-in-law. In her absence, there was one large plastic container filled with unwashed mugs, cups and dirty plates in the kitchen. And I saw a peek of a mountain of yet-to-be folded and pressed laundry in her room. I guess Zsarina can’t be wrong when she imagined that “there'd be millions of Malaysian men (Malay men especially) who would be as helpless as babies (and nowhere as cute) if their housewives suddenly decided to quit taking care of their laundry, food, groceries, household bills and housecleaning”. My brother-in-law is one perfect example of such man.
However, since I could not stand the smell, I did not help out with the dishes except for those newly used ones. And since I didn’t want to intrude her private room, I did not help with the laundry as well. But I tried to keep the house as tidy as possible as we left – with two active kids under 5 years of age, that’s quite a feat. But they say it’s better to have active kids than quiet, inactive ones. “Nakal tandanya cerdik,” or so people claimed.
We were taken to another restaurant in Kota Tinggi for brunch. Hubby had lontong kering once again while I had some too-salty lontong basah. Guess hubby is quite fascinated with lontong kering because they are quite hard to find outside Johor. Abang Nazri suggested trying out the sup tulang – but I had never been keen on soup and hubby thought it’s too early to have soup as he prefers taking soup in the evening or later at night.
Then, hubby and I went on to Ayer Tawar to visit my eldest aunt who’s staying at her eldest daughter’s place. Mak Long used to make really nice tempe, but she had stopped making them ages ago, but still it was nice to be treated to some fried tempe at her place. Or rather, my cousin Kak Jarah’s place. Kak Jarah, or more affectionately known as Abang Aya, is of Mak’s age, but she seems a lot more energetic. She’s really into old-folk care now since she has to take care not only of my Mak Long, but also her husband’s stepmother. Not to mention that she used to take care of her husband’s mother too, until she passed away a couple of years ago.
I really, really respect Abang Aya for I think few women can surpass her strength. Her husband has another younger wife, who could actually be asked to take care of his mother and now, his stepmother. After all, taking care of one’s mother at a later age could be rather taxing. Abang Aya has to deal with Mak Long who could be quite demanding at times. Then, at times, she has to take care of her grandchildren too. Sometimes, Abang Aya even has to babysit her stepchildren when the younger wife was not feeling well and what-nots. Despite the unfair treatment (in my opinion anyway), she gets along well with the younger wife – and oh my, that takes a lot of strength…
Hubby had a one-hour nap while I chatted with Mak Long, Abang Aya and her stepmother-in-law. After solat and lunch, we made our move. Next stop was supposed to be Melaka, my cousin’s place not far from Sungai Udang, but we had some detours first.
First – there was an unscheduled stop in Kulai to meet Lina and Rudy. Lina used to study in Manchester and now a medical doctor working in Hospital Sultanah Aminah in JB. Rudy, her husband, is a Singaporean who used to study in Birmingham. I knew Rudy through Lina, but I am equally fond of both of them. Lina reminds me a lot of myself. So I guess it’s hard not to like Rudy who appreciates her for herself.
We were supposed to meet in Kota Tinggi or JB, but finally decided to meet in Kulai, at Lina’s younger sister’s place. Just nice too, since hubby and I had to pass by Kulai on our way to Melaka anyway (to use the highway). We both missed each other’s wedding, but Lina took Rudy over to my place in PJ not long after her wedding to introduce him to my family (she’s close to my family as well, even calls my father “Ayah” instead of Pakcik or Uncle). She even took Rudy and his family to my in-law’s place not long after my wedding to make up for not attending my kenduri. So, I feel it’s only fair for me and hubby to return her courtesy by visiting her while we were in Johor. I’m glad to note that Rudy and hubby hit it off well too despite meeting for the first time. Upon noticing how deeply in conversation Rudy and hubby were, Lina’s mother asked us when was the last time they met – to which both of us answered simultaneously – that was their first meeting. All is good though – it’s always good to know that one’s spouse is on good term with one’s best friend’s spouse, kan?
Then – there was a detour to Parit Raja, Batu Pahat, to visit hubby’s college friend, Qamarul. Coincidentally Qamarul’s grandpa was not feeling very well, so hubby and I visited the grandpa as well. The old frail man reminded me of my own late Tok Ayah, who passed away when I was sitting for SPM more than ten years ago and I missed being there with him during his last moments on earth. I asked hubby to make du’a for the ailing grandpa and hubby obliged, reciting lots of selawat and du’a as he held the old man’s hand. I made some du’a too, simultaneously making some du’a for my own grandparents.
After treating us to some home-made soup, Qamarul led us back to Ayer Hitam, the famous porcelain and ceramic centre in northern Malaysia. We ended up spending over RM200 on vases (as souvenirs for both Mak and my mother-in-law), artificial flowers, fridge magnets, art stuff and what nots. Since it was already 8.40 p.m. when we arrived, not surprisingly, hubby and I were among the last to exit the shop when it closed at 10.00 p.m.
There were lots of accessories for traditional Malay wedding on sale too. We managed to tease Qamarul about how convenient it will be for him when the time arrives for him to settle down since he can go to a relatively cheap one-stop centre to get most of the things needed for a wedding. Qamarul explained that he hasn’t found a suitable candidate for a wife yet, and hubby said that maybe I could help him there. But then again, I pointed out that he’s only 24 where else my single friends are mostly above 25 years old. He immediately replied that age is not a hindrance, after all Rasulullah wedded Siti Khadijah who was more than a decade older than him – it’s the akhlaq that counts most. I was rather amazed by his quick quip and could not help thinking that the woman who finally marries this guy is one really lucky lass.
I really pity my sister-in-law. In her absence, there was one large plastic container filled with unwashed mugs, cups and dirty plates in the kitchen. And I saw a peek of a mountain of yet-to-be folded and pressed laundry in her room. I guess Zsarina can’t be wrong when she imagined that “there'd be millions of Malaysian men (Malay men especially) who would be as helpless as babies (and nowhere as cute) if their housewives suddenly decided to quit taking care of their laundry, food, groceries, household bills and housecleaning”. My brother-in-law is one perfect example of such man.
However, since I could not stand the smell, I did not help out with the dishes except for those newly used ones. And since I didn’t want to intrude her private room, I did not help with the laundry as well. But I tried to keep the house as tidy as possible as we left – with two active kids under 5 years of age, that’s quite a feat. But they say it’s better to have active kids than quiet, inactive ones. “Nakal tandanya cerdik,” or so people claimed.
We were taken to another restaurant in Kota Tinggi for brunch. Hubby had lontong kering once again while I had some too-salty lontong basah. Guess hubby is quite fascinated with lontong kering because they are quite hard to find outside Johor. Abang Nazri suggested trying out the sup tulang – but I had never been keen on soup and hubby thought it’s too early to have soup as he prefers taking soup in the evening or later at night.
Then, hubby and I went on to Ayer Tawar to visit my eldest aunt who’s staying at her eldest daughter’s place. Mak Long used to make really nice tempe, but she had stopped making them ages ago, but still it was nice to be treated to some fried tempe at her place. Or rather, my cousin Kak Jarah’s place. Kak Jarah, or more affectionately known as Abang Aya, is of Mak’s age, but she seems a lot more energetic. She’s really into old-folk care now since she has to take care not only of my Mak Long, but also her husband’s stepmother. Not to mention that she used to take care of her husband’s mother too, until she passed away a couple of years ago.
I really, really respect Abang Aya for I think few women can surpass her strength. Her husband has another younger wife, who could actually be asked to take care of his mother and now, his stepmother. After all, taking care of one’s mother at a later age could be rather taxing. Abang Aya has to deal with Mak Long who could be quite demanding at times. Then, at times, she has to take care of her grandchildren too. Sometimes, Abang Aya even has to babysit her stepchildren when the younger wife was not feeling well and what-nots. Despite the unfair treatment (in my opinion anyway), she gets along well with the younger wife – and oh my, that takes a lot of strength…
Hubby had a one-hour nap while I chatted with Mak Long, Abang Aya and her stepmother-in-law. After solat and lunch, we made our move. Next stop was supposed to be Melaka, my cousin’s place not far from Sungai Udang, but we had some detours first.
First – there was an unscheduled stop in Kulai to meet Lina and Rudy. Lina used to study in Manchester and now a medical doctor working in Hospital Sultanah Aminah in JB. Rudy, her husband, is a Singaporean who used to study in Birmingham. I knew Rudy through Lina, but I am equally fond of both of them. Lina reminds me a lot of myself. So I guess it’s hard not to like Rudy who appreciates her for herself.
We were supposed to meet in Kota Tinggi or JB, but finally decided to meet in Kulai, at Lina’s younger sister’s place. Just nice too, since hubby and I had to pass by Kulai on our way to Melaka anyway (to use the highway). We both missed each other’s wedding, but Lina took Rudy over to my place in PJ not long after her wedding to introduce him to my family (she’s close to my family as well, even calls my father “Ayah” instead of Pakcik or Uncle). She even took Rudy and his family to my in-law’s place not long after my wedding to make up for not attending my kenduri. So, I feel it’s only fair for me and hubby to return her courtesy by visiting her while we were in Johor. I’m glad to note that Rudy and hubby hit it off well too despite meeting for the first time. Upon noticing how deeply in conversation Rudy and hubby were, Lina’s mother asked us when was the last time they met – to which both of us answered simultaneously – that was their first meeting. All is good though – it’s always good to know that one’s spouse is on good term with one’s best friend’s spouse, kan?
Then – there was a detour to Parit Raja, Batu Pahat, to visit hubby’s college friend, Qamarul. Coincidentally Qamarul’s grandpa was not feeling very well, so hubby and I visited the grandpa as well. The old frail man reminded me of my own late Tok Ayah, who passed away when I was sitting for SPM more than ten years ago and I missed being there with him during his last moments on earth. I asked hubby to make du’a for the ailing grandpa and hubby obliged, reciting lots of selawat and du’a as he held the old man’s hand. I made some du’a too, simultaneously making some du’a for my own grandparents.
After treating us to some home-made soup, Qamarul led us back to Ayer Hitam, the famous porcelain and ceramic centre in northern Malaysia. We ended up spending over RM200 on vases (as souvenirs for both Mak and my mother-in-law), artificial flowers, fridge magnets, art stuff and what nots. Since it was already 8.40 p.m. when we arrived, not surprisingly, hubby and I were among the last to exit the shop when it closed at 10.00 p.m.
There were lots of accessories for traditional Malay wedding on sale too. We managed to tease Qamarul about how convenient it will be for him when the time arrives for him to settle down since he can go to a relatively cheap one-stop centre to get most of the things needed for a wedding. Qamarul explained that he hasn’t found a suitable candidate for a wife yet, and hubby said that maybe I could help him there. But then again, I pointed out that he’s only 24 where else my single friends are mostly above 25 years old. He immediately replied that age is not a hindrance, after all Rasulullah wedded Siti Khadijah who was more than a decade older than him – it’s the akhlaq that counts most. I was rather amazed by his quick quip and could not help thinking that the woman who finally marries this guy is one really lucky lass.
The Johor - Melaka Trip, Part I
After six months of marriage, we finally found some time to visit Mak’s relatives in Johor. Right after our wedding, I took a week off for bertandang – visiting relatives and close family friends around Negeri Sembilan, Klang Valley, Kedah and Penang. We planned on visiting relatives in Johor a few months after the wedding, but a month after our wedding, hubby had to go to Terengganu for his one-year course and could only return during school breaks. Yes, he came back during school break in March, but at that time I had not recovered well from my hyperemesis gravidarum yet. So – this school holiday, we made it a point to reserve a few days out for the Johor trip.
So, last Friday, after finished praying Isyak, I called Mak Ram’s house (Mak’s elder sister) in Pontian, to remind her of our arrival. To my surprise, the call was answered by Abang Azmin, a cousin who now resides in Labuan and was unable to attend my kenduri. When I told him that hubby & I were going over to Pontian, it was his turn to be taken by surprise. He didn’t quite believed me at first, but I told him, now that he’s around, I must visit Pontian to save me a trip to Labuan to introduce hubby to him & his family.
Turned out that all four of Mak Ram’s sons returned to Pontian that day, it was almost like Hari Raya. I guess, once the five-days week for government servants are implemented, there’ll be more family reunions held over the weekend rather than waiting for Hari Raya to gather everybody together. Still, despite having all her sons and family under one roof, Mak Ram still insisted on hubby and I having the privilege of resting in the guestroom-connected-to-a-bathroom. Her grandchildren mostly occupied the family hall for the night.
Among Mak’s many sisters, I feel closest to Mak Ram and Mak Su. I feel most accepted by them, like I am truly their niece, rather than their sister’s stepdaughter. Mak Ram and Mak Su helped out a lot during the wedding – Mak Su sponsored lots of goodies as part of the ‘berkat bag’ while Mak Ram loaned some of the stuff used for the pelamin since the theme colour for my cousin Azman’s wedding in 2003 was similar to mine. Mak Su even took the initiative to decorate the baskets used for distributing bunga telur long before I started any decorating on my part.
Even when I was still a child, Mak Su and Mak Ram pampered my brothers and I more than Mak’s other siblings. Maybe partly because it is in their nature as teachers to be more gentle and understanding towards kids from broken house. Maybe because we were just at the right age when we were first introduced – Adik was a toddler who could have been Mak Su’s student while Abang and I were still in primary school and could have been Mak Ram’s students. Maybe because Mak has always been closer to them and that closeness was extended to us as well.
So, it’s small wonder that I chose to visit Mak Ram’s house first in my series of relatives-visiting around Johor. Besides, Mak Ram still lives at the same lane where my late Mak Tua used to live and where Mak was raised up.
Day 1 – Saturday
Woke up to a wonderful breakfast. Everybody was too tired to cook, so Abang Azrain, the eldest cousin decided on getting instant breakfast – bought them. Fortunately, the district hospital in Pontian offers one of the best traditional Malay breakfast delicacies. There were nasi lemak, fried beehoon, assorted kuih as well as lontong kering. Hubby tried out lontong kering for the first time ever, and was treated to lontong everyday for the next two days.
With exception of Abang Azmin, the son from Labuan who had to go and visit his in-laws in Batu Pahat- Mak Ram and the rest of the gang had been invited to a wedding in Kulai. So as they left home, hubby and I made our way to Mak Su’s house, which is less than five minutes away from Mak Ram’s place – on foot.
Coincidentally Mak Su just returned from a tour around Egypt. So hubby and her had a lot to talk about – mostly swapping stories and views on tourist havens in Egypt. Since I’ve never set my foot in Egypt before, I was pretty content to just listen to them chatting. Good to know that Mak Su enjoyed her trip very much. If you ask me, I think my retired aunt has gone to more places that I’ve ever been to, and she even plans to visit Japan since I am going to stay there for a while beginning end of this year, insya Allah. By the way, together with my cousin Azman, we acted as tourist guides when Mak Ram, Mak Su and Abang Azmin went to UK while Azman and I were still studying there. I guess it’ll be fun to host and act as a tourist guide for my inquisitive aunties in Japan.
After a while, hubby and I took our leave and moved on to JB. At first I was thinking of visiting Kota Tinggi first, since two of my aunts reside there. Turned out that one aunt had gone to Melaka to send her eldest granddaughter for registration at Multimedia University. So, had a quick change of plan and went to JB first instead.
Visited a cousin’s place in Kampung Melayu Majidee. Hubby had his first taste of the famous Murtabak Singapore. We were told that people from all over JB don’t mind queuing up for this delicious murtabak during Ramadhan. My cousins in Shah Alam also always pack some murtabak to-go everytime they finished visiting their siblings in JB. There are actually three cousins living in JB , but a couple is away to perform umrah in Makkah while another cousin and her family went visiting her sisters in Shah Alam.
Next destination – Kota Tinggi. We decided to crash at my sister-in-law’s place first and to visit Mak Long, Mak’s eldest sister in Ayer Tawar a little later. But by then, both hubby and I were so tired that we finally made up our mind to postpone the trip to Ayer Tawar to the next day. My sister-in-law, Kak Telaah was not around since she had to attend a nine-day course in Kota Bharu, Kelantan.
Abang Nazri, her husband took their two kids and us out to a nice Chinese Muslim restaurant, Restoran Hassan Ong, for dinner. As we enjoyed the siakap tiga rasa and some Japanese tofu, Abang Nazri told us how once Kak Telaah suddenly craved for siakap tiga rasa while she was pregnant with their eldest daughter. So, Abang Nazri had to go to the nearest sea food restaurant which was about a half hour away by motorbike, bought two pieces of siakap and returned home. By then, it was already past midnight and just like her sudden craving, my sister-in-law suddenly lost her appetite for the siakap. Which really frustrated her husband then – but he understands now that one can’t blame the wife when that happened. Some things are just beyond pregnant women’s control…
So, last Friday, after finished praying Isyak, I called Mak Ram’s house (Mak’s elder sister) in Pontian, to remind her of our arrival. To my surprise, the call was answered by Abang Azmin, a cousin who now resides in Labuan and was unable to attend my kenduri. When I told him that hubby & I were going over to Pontian, it was his turn to be taken by surprise. He didn’t quite believed me at first, but I told him, now that he’s around, I must visit Pontian to save me a trip to Labuan to introduce hubby to him & his family.
Turned out that all four of Mak Ram’s sons returned to Pontian that day, it was almost like Hari Raya. I guess, once the five-days week for government servants are implemented, there’ll be more family reunions held over the weekend rather than waiting for Hari Raya to gather everybody together. Still, despite having all her sons and family under one roof, Mak Ram still insisted on hubby and I having the privilege of resting in the guestroom-connected-to-a-bathroom. Her grandchildren mostly occupied the family hall for the night.
Among Mak’s many sisters, I feel closest to Mak Ram and Mak Su. I feel most accepted by them, like I am truly their niece, rather than their sister’s stepdaughter. Mak Ram and Mak Su helped out a lot during the wedding – Mak Su sponsored lots of goodies as part of the ‘berkat bag’ while Mak Ram loaned some of the stuff used for the pelamin since the theme colour for my cousin Azman’s wedding in 2003 was similar to mine. Mak Su even took the initiative to decorate the baskets used for distributing bunga telur long before I started any decorating on my part.
Even when I was still a child, Mak Su and Mak Ram pampered my brothers and I more than Mak’s other siblings. Maybe partly because it is in their nature as teachers to be more gentle and understanding towards kids from broken house. Maybe because we were just at the right age when we were first introduced – Adik was a toddler who could have been Mak Su’s student while Abang and I were still in primary school and could have been Mak Ram’s students. Maybe because Mak has always been closer to them and that closeness was extended to us as well.
So, it’s small wonder that I chose to visit Mak Ram’s house first in my series of relatives-visiting around Johor. Besides, Mak Ram still lives at the same lane where my late Mak Tua used to live and where Mak was raised up.
Day 1 – Saturday
Woke up to a wonderful breakfast. Everybody was too tired to cook, so Abang Azrain, the eldest cousin decided on getting instant breakfast – bought them. Fortunately, the district hospital in Pontian offers one of the best traditional Malay breakfast delicacies. There were nasi lemak, fried beehoon, assorted kuih as well as lontong kering. Hubby tried out lontong kering for the first time ever, and was treated to lontong everyday for the next two days.
With exception of Abang Azmin, the son from Labuan who had to go and visit his in-laws in Batu Pahat- Mak Ram and the rest of the gang had been invited to a wedding in Kulai. So as they left home, hubby and I made our way to Mak Su’s house, which is less than five minutes away from Mak Ram’s place – on foot.
Coincidentally Mak Su just returned from a tour around Egypt. So hubby and her had a lot to talk about – mostly swapping stories and views on tourist havens in Egypt. Since I’ve never set my foot in Egypt before, I was pretty content to just listen to them chatting. Good to know that Mak Su enjoyed her trip very much. If you ask me, I think my retired aunt has gone to more places that I’ve ever been to, and she even plans to visit Japan since I am going to stay there for a while beginning end of this year, insya Allah. By the way, together with my cousin Azman, we acted as tourist guides when Mak Ram, Mak Su and Abang Azmin went to UK while Azman and I were still studying there. I guess it’ll be fun to host and act as a tourist guide for my inquisitive aunties in Japan.
After a while, hubby and I took our leave and moved on to JB. At first I was thinking of visiting Kota Tinggi first, since two of my aunts reside there. Turned out that one aunt had gone to Melaka to send her eldest granddaughter for registration at Multimedia University. So, had a quick change of plan and went to JB first instead.
Visited a cousin’s place in Kampung Melayu Majidee. Hubby had his first taste of the famous Murtabak Singapore. We were told that people from all over JB don’t mind queuing up for this delicious murtabak during Ramadhan. My cousins in Shah Alam also always pack some murtabak to-go everytime they finished visiting their siblings in JB. There are actually three cousins living in JB , but a couple is away to perform umrah in Makkah while another cousin and her family went visiting her sisters in Shah Alam.
Next destination – Kota Tinggi. We decided to crash at my sister-in-law’s place first and to visit Mak Long, Mak’s eldest sister in Ayer Tawar a little later. But by then, both hubby and I were so tired that we finally made up our mind to postpone the trip to Ayer Tawar to the next day. My sister-in-law, Kak Telaah was not around since she had to attend a nine-day course in Kota Bharu, Kelantan.
Abang Nazri, her husband took their two kids and us out to a nice Chinese Muslim restaurant, Restoran Hassan Ong, for dinner. As we enjoyed the siakap tiga rasa and some Japanese tofu, Abang Nazri told us how once Kak Telaah suddenly craved for siakap tiga rasa while she was pregnant with their eldest daughter. So, Abang Nazri had to go to the nearest sea food restaurant which was about a half hour away by motorbike, bought two pieces of siakap and returned home. By then, it was already past midnight and just like her sudden craving, my sister-in-law suddenly lost her appetite for the siakap. Which really frustrated her husband then – but he understands now that one can’t blame the wife when that happened. Some things are just beyond pregnant women’s control…
Thursday, May 26, 2005
Scratch scratch.. Stretch stretch...
A couple of weeks ago, I developed some raised red marks on my bulging tummy. They were very, very itchy, so I thought I have developed some kind of rashes. Asked some friends and colleagues if they have experienced the same thing during pregnancy, even showed some of them the mark, but I got a mixture of different advices.
“Try putting on some medicated powder,” one kakak suggested. “Like Ammens or Agnesia?” I asked back, referring to two well-known brands used by most Malaysian mothers to treat rashes. “Maybe you can try Johnson’s medicated powder. I use it to treat most itchiness in my family”. Oh, okay… but it didn’t work well.
“Try Vaseline,” another kakak advocated. The petroleum jelly? Uh huh. I never thought it can help with reducing itchiness - and in my case, it didn’t.
“Why don’t you go and see a doctor?” yet another kakak suggested.
I took her advice and went to see my family GP last week. Told him about the unsightly red marks and the itchiness I felt. He asked me to lie down to have a good look at these ‘rashes’.
Upon seeing it, he smiled gently, “Nothing to worry about, they are just some stretch marks”
Huh? I’ve been rubbing baby oil with vitamin E on my tummy daily just to prevent stretch marks. I thought they only appear after delivery.
No, the kind doctor corrected my perception. Apparently, it’s quite common for pregnant ladies (75 to 90 percent, in fact, or so according to this article) to develop stretch marks during pregnancy. He clarified that stretch marks occur in the dermis, the elastic, resilient middle layer of the skins that allow skins to retain its shape. Using a rubber-band in his explanation, the doctor explained how the skin becomes less elastic and the connective fibres break when the dermis is constantly stretched over time, causing the markings known as stretch marks.
Oh, okay…
It was rather embarrassing, really – to consult the GP on what I thought was rashes, only to be told that they are harmless stretch marks. (And to think that I’ve been consistently using the baby oil to prevent them, when I did not even recognize what they actually look like…) He advised me to get Strytedin or some other stretch mark cream from any pharmacy.
I got away from the clinic without having to pay for anything, not even a minimal consultation fee. (That’s rare in KL/PJ nowadays.) Immediately went in search of the said cream, but could not find it.
As for now, I’m treating the stretch marks with some olive oil, a gift from a friend who bought it somewhere in Europe, as advised by a friend of hers. According to my friend, her friend who used that particular brand of olive oil (Olivia) has no stretch mark at all after giving birth.
Hmm, hope it’s still not too late for me to eliminate those marks then…
“Try putting on some medicated powder,” one kakak suggested. “Like Ammens or Agnesia?” I asked back, referring to two well-known brands used by most Malaysian mothers to treat rashes. “Maybe you can try Johnson’s medicated powder. I use it to treat most itchiness in my family”. Oh, okay… but it didn’t work well.
“Try Vaseline,” another kakak advocated. The petroleum jelly? Uh huh. I never thought it can help with reducing itchiness - and in my case, it didn’t.
“Why don’t you go and see a doctor?” yet another kakak suggested.
I took her advice and went to see my family GP last week. Told him about the unsightly red marks and the itchiness I felt. He asked me to lie down to have a good look at these ‘rashes’.
Upon seeing it, he smiled gently, “Nothing to worry about, they are just some stretch marks”
Huh? I’ve been rubbing baby oil with vitamin E on my tummy daily just to prevent stretch marks. I thought they only appear after delivery.
No, the kind doctor corrected my perception. Apparently, it’s quite common for pregnant ladies (75 to 90 percent, in fact, or so according to this article) to develop stretch marks during pregnancy. He clarified that stretch marks occur in the dermis, the elastic, resilient middle layer of the skins that allow skins to retain its shape. Using a rubber-band in his explanation, the doctor explained how the skin becomes less elastic and the connective fibres break when the dermis is constantly stretched over time, causing the markings known as stretch marks.
Oh, okay…
It was rather embarrassing, really – to consult the GP on what I thought was rashes, only to be told that they are harmless stretch marks. (And to think that I’ve been consistently using the baby oil to prevent them, when I did not even recognize what they actually look like…) He advised me to get Strytedin or some other stretch mark cream from any pharmacy.
I got away from the clinic without having to pay for anything, not even a minimal consultation fee. (That’s rare in KL/PJ nowadays.) Immediately went in search of the said cream, but could not find it.
As for now, I’m treating the stretch marks with some olive oil, a gift from a friend who bought it somewhere in Europe, as advised by a friend of hers. According to my friend, her friend who used that particular brand of olive oil (Olivia) has no stretch mark at all after giving birth.
Hmm, hope it’s still not too late for me to eliminate those marks then…
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
The Guessing Game
If this article is to be believed, then I think it could be a girl…
… I had a bad case of morning sickness earlier on
… Belly resembles a watermelon more than a basketball
… Craved for big fat juicy strawberries
… Not looking quite as good as normal during pregnancy
… Been having more break-outs than even during high school
… Ayah-to-be is not gaining weight along with me
Given a choice, we would still love to have a boy first…
But then again, the baby’s gender doesn’t really matter so long as our child is healthy, cukup sifat and all… kan?
… I had a bad case of morning sickness earlier on
… Belly resembles a watermelon more than a basketball
… Craved for big fat juicy strawberries
… Not looking quite as good as normal during pregnancy
… Been having more break-outs than even during high school
… Ayah-to-be is not gaining weight along with me
Given a choice, we would still love to have a boy first…
But then again, the baby’s gender doesn’t really matter so long as our child is healthy, cukup sifat and all… kan?
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
Hitting the big 3-0
“…You’ve already lost 10 percent of your muscle mass. And, on average, you’re almost $20,000 in debt. But don’t despair. At 30, Harrison Ford was working as a carpenter, and neither Oprah nor Jane Austen had found fame. Edvard Munch’s famous painting The Scream? Created at 30.”
- Book of Ages 30
It’s not like I don’t realize that I'm getting old, what with the fine lines beginning to appear at the corner of my eyes and all. But I sometimes still feel like a kid. Friends and cousins laughed upon hearing what I asked from hubby for my birthday – a huge teddy bear. “That sounds like a request coming from a three-year-old, maybe a thirteen-year old – but thirty???”
(Well, I don’t know – what’s wrong with getting a teddy bear at thirty anyway? I’d been rather specific in my request – it must be huge and comfy-soft and very huggable and doesn’t get dirty easily and of good quality so that it can last for many more years to come. Okay, so maybe it’s not just for me – maybe it’s also for my baby…)
Now that I’ve reached one of the significant “agemarks”, I guess it’s time for me to revisit the past years, to learn from my own experiences as well as to take heed of what others have to offer and prepare to brace what is in store for me in the future. It’s not like I’ve never ponder on the meaning of life before – but pondering on this subject matter at different stages of life, I supposed, makes we realise how we change and look at things differently, after going through moments of good laugh, good fun, some pain and some anguish.
Anyway – I guess, now that I’ve hit the big three-oh, based on the average lifespan of a Malay Muslim female living in Malaysia, I have less time on earth to perform good deeds as Allah’s humble servant compared to younger sisters. I have less time to equip myself with knowledge – both duniawi and ukhrawi - in preparing for the hereafter. I also have less time to ‘change the world’ or ‘make a difference’ – but I’m going to try my best, one day at a time.
It’s also time to reflect and be thankful, alhamdulillah, on the fact that I’m doing quite well for an average thirty-year old. Got a well-paid (not highly-paid, but I’m content) stable job, no study loan to worry about, a close-knit family, a loving husband, a child on the way, loads of caring friends, not a single gray hair as yet and in the process of purchasing our own house… All in all – not too bad. Not too bad.
But of course – still have a long way to go before becoming a full-fledge mature and responsible 40-year old. (That’s part of the reason why Rasulullah only became a Rasul after he reached 40 – those younger than 40 are never quite mature enough, especially from the viewpoint of their ‘older-and-wiser’ parents)
Until then, I guess I‘ll just savour each day as they come and keep on living, loving, learning, relearning, unlearning…
#####
By the way – here’s a note of appreciation to all who’ve made my thirtieth birthday a happy one, especially to:
My dearest hubby, who called many times (instead of just making missed calls) throughout the day – beginning from 1.20 a.m. (five minutes before my delivery time as per recorded in my birth certificate), bought me two stuffed black-and-white panda bears – a huge lovely-to-be-hugged (the largest in my collection to date) for me and a smaller version for our baby and also sent me a fine card which, though not a Hallmark, managed to stir the deepest feelings. I look forward to us spending birthdays together (instead of miles away) in years to come, insya Allah.
Jue – for sending the first of many SMSs;
Chah – for sending the first of many YM messages;
Masni – for sending the largest and most colourful YM message;
Shireen – for initiating a round of congratulatory e-mail among fellow officemates and ex-officemates;
Dak One E – for that absolutely wonderful Baker’s Cottage’s Royal Fruit cake;
Queyah – for the most surprising birthday e-card;
Rinie – for the most unexpected phone call;
… and the rest who had formed part of making it a truly beautiful day for me -
Terima kasih.
May all your dreams come true too and may Allah bless always.
"thirteen going thirty... heheheh"
"that huge panda bear..."
- Book of Ages 30
It’s not like I don’t realize that I'm getting old, what with the fine lines beginning to appear at the corner of my eyes and all. But I sometimes still feel like a kid. Friends and cousins laughed upon hearing what I asked from hubby for my birthday – a huge teddy bear. “That sounds like a request coming from a three-year-old, maybe a thirteen-year old – but thirty???”
(Well, I don’t know – what’s wrong with getting a teddy bear at thirty anyway? I’d been rather specific in my request – it must be huge and comfy-soft and very huggable and doesn’t get dirty easily and of good quality so that it can last for many more years to come. Okay, so maybe it’s not just for me – maybe it’s also for my baby…)
Now that I’ve reached one of the significant “agemarks”, I guess it’s time for me to revisit the past years, to learn from my own experiences as well as to take heed of what others have to offer and prepare to brace what is in store for me in the future. It’s not like I’ve never ponder on the meaning of life before – but pondering on this subject matter at different stages of life, I supposed, makes we realise how we change and look at things differently, after going through moments of good laugh, good fun, some pain and some anguish.
Anyway – I guess, now that I’ve hit the big three-oh, based on the average lifespan of a Malay Muslim female living in Malaysia, I have less time on earth to perform good deeds as Allah’s humble servant compared to younger sisters. I have less time to equip myself with knowledge – both duniawi and ukhrawi - in preparing for the hereafter. I also have less time to ‘change the world’ or ‘make a difference’ – but I’m going to try my best, one day at a time.
It’s also time to reflect and be thankful, alhamdulillah, on the fact that I’m doing quite well for an average thirty-year old. Got a well-paid (not highly-paid, but I’m content) stable job, no study loan to worry about, a close-knit family, a loving husband, a child on the way, loads of caring friends, not a single gray hair as yet and in the process of purchasing our own house… All in all – not too bad. Not too bad.
But of course – still have a long way to go before becoming a full-fledge mature and responsible 40-year old. (That’s part of the reason why Rasulullah only became a Rasul after he reached 40 – those younger than 40 are never quite mature enough, especially from the viewpoint of their ‘older-and-wiser’ parents)
Until then, I guess I‘ll just savour each day as they come and keep on living, loving, learning, relearning, unlearning…
#####
By the way – here’s a note of appreciation to all who’ve made my thirtieth birthday a happy one, especially to:
My dearest hubby, who called many times (instead of just making missed calls) throughout the day – beginning from 1.20 a.m. (five minutes before my delivery time as per recorded in my birth certificate), bought me two stuffed black-and-white panda bears – a huge lovely-to-be-hugged (the largest in my collection to date) for me and a smaller version for our baby and also sent me a fine card which, though not a Hallmark, managed to stir the deepest feelings. I look forward to us spending birthdays together (instead of miles away) in years to come, insya Allah.
Jue – for sending the first of many SMSs;
Chah – for sending the first of many YM messages;
Masni – for sending the largest and most colourful YM message;
Shireen – for initiating a round of congratulatory e-mail among fellow officemates and ex-officemates;
Dak One E – for that absolutely wonderful Baker’s Cottage’s Royal Fruit cake;
Queyah – for the most surprising birthday e-card;
Rinie – for the most unexpected phone call;
… and the rest who had formed part of making it a truly beautiful day for me -
Terima kasih.
May all your dreams come true too and may Allah bless always.
"thirteen going thirty... heheheh"
"that huge panda bear..."
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
On being thankful...
There’s this particular nasyid that has been played and replayed again and again in my car for the last couple of weeks. The tune is catchy, but more importantly, the message is touching. (Yes, I know, admitting that I actually like UNIC’s song is rather lame for someone in my age group – but who cares, anyway?)
Since this nasyid talks about the meaning of being thankful and grateful to the Creator – it suits exactly how I feel today as I hit the big 3-0.
Erti Syukur
Lafazkan kalimah syukur
Lafazkan kalimah itu
Alhamdulillah...
Segalanya yang ku kecapi
Adalah milikMu Ilahi
(Tuhan Maha Pemurah)
Takkan terbalas walaupun sebesar zarah
Kenikmatan yang bertandang
Terkadang tidak dihiraukan
(Lepas dari pandangan)
Dan bila hilang barulah dikesalkan
Adakalanya aku hanyut
Adakalanya aku terlupa
Adakala aku leka
Ampunilah...
Kerana ku manusia
Lemah dan tidak berdaya di sisiMu
Seringkali terlupa nikmatMu
Datang tiada jemu
Bila terhimpit mulalah
Mencari dan menyebut namaMu
Barulah merasai makna sebenar erti syukur
Syukur atas rahmatMu
Rap: Adakala ku hanyut
Adakala ku lupa
Adakala ku leka dan adakala ku alpa
Kerana ku manusia
Lemah dan tak berdaya
Seringkali terlupa nikmat yang Kau kurnia
Ku bersyukur ya Tuhan
Segala pemberian
Walau luas lautan
Bukanlah perbandingan
Ku tingkat keimanan
Ku gilap ketaqwaan
Sebagai perlambangan
Terima kasih ku Tuhan
Onak duri kehidupan
Jatuh bangun sendirian
Ada hikmah yang tersimpan
Yang menguji iman
Bersyukurlah selalu
Sentiasalah redha dan menerima
Tiap ujian tiba bukan diminta
Sebaliknya Allah Maha Mengetahui
Kan ku bertasbih selalu
Bertahmid berzikir padaMu
Sebagai tanda ku nilai
RahmatMu Tuhan
Aku bersyukur Ya Allah
Segala pemberianMu padaku
Seluas lautan pun bukanlah jadi ukurannya
Memang tiada bandingan
Segalanya yang ku kecapi
Adalah milikMu Ilahi
(Tuhan Maha Permurah)
Bukan milikku pinjaman sementara
Syukur Alhamdulillah
Rap: Sesungguhnya solatku,
Amalku, hidupku, matiku
Kerna Allah yang satu
Kuserahkan segala harta jiwa dan raga
Sebagai tanda cinta
KepadaMu Yang Esa
Lyric: Lukhman S
Song: Manis Helma (Hijjaz Records)
Performed by: UNIC – Satu Tekad, 2005
Since this nasyid talks about the meaning of being thankful and grateful to the Creator – it suits exactly how I feel today as I hit the big 3-0.
Erti Syukur
Lafazkan kalimah syukur
Lafazkan kalimah itu
Alhamdulillah...
Segalanya yang ku kecapi
Adalah milikMu Ilahi
(Tuhan Maha Pemurah)
Takkan terbalas walaupun sebesar zarah
Kenikmatan yang bertandang
Terkadang tidak dihiraukan
(Lepas dari pandangan)
Dan bila hilang barulah dikesalkan
Adakalanya aku hanyut
Adakalanya aku terlupa
Adakala aku leka
Ampunilah...
Kerana ku manusia
Lemah dan tidak berdaya di sisiMu
Seringkali terlupa nikmatMu
Datang tiada jemu
Bila terhimpit mulalah
Mencari dan menyebut namaMu
Barulah merasai makna sebenar erti syukur
Syukur atas rahmatMu
Rap: Adakala ku hanyut
Adakala ku lupa
Adakala ku leka dan adakala ku alpa
Kerana ku manusia
Lemah dan tak berdaya
Seringkali terlupa nikmat yang Kau kurnia
Ku bersyukur ya Tuhan
Segala pemberian
Walau luas lautan
Bukanlah perbandingan
Ku tingkat keimanan
Ku gilap ketaqwaan
Sebagai perlambangan
Terima kasih ku Tuhan
Onak duri kehidupan
Jatuh bangun sendirian
Ada hikmah yang tersimpan
Yang menguji iman
Bersyukurlah selalu
Sentiasalah redha dan menerima
Tiap ujian tiba bukan diminta
Sebaliknya Allah Maha Mengetahui
Kan ku bertasbih selalu
Bertahmid berzikir padaMu
Sebagai tanda ku nilai
RahmatMu Tuhan
Aku bersyukur Ya Allah
Segala pemberianMu padaku
Seluas lautan pun bukanlah jadi ukurannya
Memang tiada bandingan
Segalanya yang ku kecapi
Adalah milikMu Ilahi
(Tuhan Maha Permurah)
Bukan milikku pinjaman sementara
Syukur Alhamdulillah
Rap: Sesungguhnya solatku,
Amalku, hidupku, matiku
Kerna Allah yang satu
Kuserahkan segala harta jiwa dan raga
Sebagai tanda cinta
KepadaMu Yang Esa
Lyric: Lukhman S
Song: Manis Helma (Hijjaz Records)
Performed by: UNIC – Satu Tekad, 2005
Monday, May 09, 2005
I want to be like her
“Not flesh of my flesh
Nor bone of my bone
But still miraculously my own
Never forget for a single minute
You didn’t grow under my heart
But in it”
- Anonymous.
Mak did not become a mother in the conventional way. She also did not get her three kids through adoption. She never gave birth to any of us – but she became our mother in every other sense when Ayah married her more than twenty years ago.
No, I guess none of us have ever seen her as our stepmother – she’s simply Mak. She married Ayah when she was in her thirties, the right age for a mother with kids our age, ranging from three to nine.
Things changed as soon as Mak entered our lives. My brothers and I had been under our paternal grandparents’ care in Kulim since Ayah’s divorce. In my case – I’d been raised up more by Tok and Tok Ayah compared to staying with my own parents since I was a baby. When Mak insisted that all of us should move and live together in Petaling Jaya and Ayah obliged, I supposed Abang and I were most affected by the transfer.
It wasn’t that easy adapting to having a proper mother and going back to school in a new place. Abang and I had missed school for almost a year following Ayah’s divorce – Ayah felt that there was not much point when we kept bouncing from one school to another. When we were in Kulim, where my grandparents lived, our biological mother would came over and forced us to go back to Sg Petani with her. Yes, forced – sometimes she had to ask for assistance from a few teachers to practically hauled us into the car before she could drove us to Sg Petani. Whenever we were in Sg Petani though, Ayah would came to pick us up after school and we would happily entered the car and returned home to Kulim. After a few repeated similar incidents, Ayah stopped sending us to school and instead taught us at home – with the aid of many exercise books and TV Pendidikan.
But of course, off-and-on home tutoring by my father did little in preparing us for a new adventure in Petaling Jaya. Our Kedahan accent was obvious and we knew little English – when it was a norm for other pupils to converse in English in that urban school. Once I got 19/100 for an English test and I got teased all the time for my ‘weird’ accent. However, I managed to make some friends who did not mind my accent and my poor English and the fact that I wore baju kurung and tudung when most girls my age were more often clad in pinafores.
Life changed in so many ways as for the first time in my life I learned to know what it felt like to have a mother around. Yes, prior to that, Tok was the one who raised me up – fed me, made sure I bathed twice a day, sent me to learn Al-Quran after school, scolded me when I misbehaved. But it was only after Mak came into my life, I learned that a mother’s duty, among others, was to ensure that homework was done on time, Al-Quran recital was checked and corrected, school uniforms were cleaned and neatly pressed daily, extra books were bought to increase our interest in lessons learned at school, all meals were prepared and taken accordingly, and ensure that time was spent to listen to our worries and insecurities, to smooth our anxieties, to calm us from our fears, to kiss and make our wounds better and not laughed out loud when the 10-year-old daughter was such a coward that she insisted on somebody to wait right outside the bathroom whenever she took a shower.
Mak took time to teach us English, purchased and read story books by Enid Blyton to us and answered our endless queries on new words. Mak personally made sure that we could read and khatam the Quran by the age of twelve, at the latest. Mak spent some time after work to get to know our friends personally when she let us invited them over to have tea or play ping-pong at our house.
As we grew older and not much wiser in our teenage years, Mak helped us settling disputes whenever crisis arose at school. Both Abang and I got into some trouble with our teachers when we each reached sixteen. Ayah quickly blamed us for it – but Mak lend her ears to us, to find out our side of stories. She was the strong anchor that held us together whenever my brothers and I felt rebellious at Ayah’s conservative way of handling things. Mak was the one we ran to, who would supply endless patience, wisdom and love as only a true mother could.
Just like any true mothers, we had our moments of disagreements too – but all mothers should be allowed to have their moments of weaknesses, of having insecurities and despair in bringing up their kids, right?
As we grow even older and supposedly more mature as young adults, Mak continued to be our major consultant in seeking ideas and perspectives. Abang goes to Mak for advices on this and that as a self-entrepreneur. Adik, now a University student, who was a toddler when Mak first welcomed us as her children, still runs to Mak for guidance and opinions.
As for me – Mak is just the person I want to be like when I grow older.
Nor bone of my bone
But still miraculously my own
Never forget for a single minute
You didn’t grow under my heart
But in it”
- Anonymous.
Mak did not become a mother in the conventional way. She also did not get her three kids through adoption. She never gave birth to any of us – but she became our mother in every other sense when Ayah married her more than twenty years ago.
No, I guess none of us have ever seen her as our stepmother – she’s simply Mak. She married Ayah when she was in her thirties, the right age for a mother with kids our age, ranging from three to nine.
Things changed as soon as Mak entered our lives. My brothers and I had been under our paternal grandparents’ care in Kulim since Ayah’s divorce. In my case – I’d been raised up more by Tok and Tok Ayah compared to staying with my own parents since I was a baby. When Mak insisted that all of us should move and live together in Petaling Jaya and Ayah obliged, I supposed Abang and I were most affected by the transfer.
It wasn’t that easy adapting to having a proper mother and going back to school in a new place. Abang and I had missed school for almost a year following Ayah’s divorce – Ayah felt that there was not much point when we kept bouncing from one school to another. When we were in Kulim, where my grandparents lived, our biological mother would came over and forced us to go back to Sg Petani with her. Yes, forced – sometimes she had to ask for assistance from a few teachers to practically hauled us into the car before she could drove us to Sg Petani. Whenever we were in Sg Petani though, Ayah would came to pick us up after school and we would happily entered the car and returned home to Kulim. After a few repeated similar incidents, Ayah stopped sending us to school and instead taught us at home – with the aid of many exercise books and TV Pendidikan.
But of course, off-and-on home tutoring by my father did little in preparing us for a new adventure in Petaling Jaya. Our Kedahan accent was obvious and we knew little English – when it was a norm for other pupils to converse in English in that urban school. Once I got 19/100 for an English test and I got teased all the time for my ‘weird’ accent. However, I managed to make some friends who did not mind my accent and my poor English and the fact that I wore baju kurung and tudung when most girls my age were more often clad in pinafores.
Life changed in so many ways as for the first time in my life I learned to know what it felt like to have a mother around. Yes, prior to that, Tok was the one who raised me up – fed me, made sure I bathed twice a day, sent me to learn Al-Quran after school, scolded me when I misbehaved. But it was only after Mak came into my life, I learned that a mother’s duty, among others, was to ensure that homework was done on time, Al-Quran recital was checked and corrected, school uniforms were cleaned and neatly pressed daily, extra books were bought to increase our interest in lessons learned at school, all meals were prepared and taken accordingly, and ensure that time was spent to listen to our worries and insecurities, to smooth our anxieties, to calm us from our fears, to kiss and make our wounds better and not laughed out loud when the 10-year-old daughter was such a coward that she insisted on somebody to wait right outside the bathroom whenever she took a shower.
Mak took time to teach us English, purchased and read story books by Enid Blyton to us and answered our endless queries on new words. Mak personally made sure that we could read and khatam the Quran by the age of twelve, at the latest. Mak spent some time after work to get to know our friends personally when she let us invited them over to have tea or play ping-pong at our house.
As we grew older and not much wiser in our teenage years, Mak helped us settling disputes whenever crisis arose at school. Both Abang and I got into some trouble with our teachers when we each reached sixteen. Ayah quickly blamed us for it – but Mak lend her ears to us, to find out our side of stories. She was the strong anchor that held us together whenever my brothers and I felt rebellious at Ayah’s conservative way of handling things. Mak was the one we ran to, who would supply endless patience, wisdom and love as only a true mother could.
Just like any true mothers, we had our moments of disagreements too – but all mothers should be allowed to have their moments of weaknesses, of having insecurities and despair in bringing up their kids, right?
As we grow even older and supposedly more mature as young adults, Mak continued to be our major consultant in seeking ideas and perspectives. Abang goes to Mak for advices on this and that as a self-entrepreneur. Adik, now a University student, who was a toddler when Mak first welcomed us as her children, still runs to Mak for guidance and opinions.
As for me – Mak is just the person I want to be like when I grow older.
Friday, May 06, 2005
Things I wish they have known during the PAC
The invitation to be a facilitator for a PTD Assessment Centre (PAC) programme a few weeks ago came as a surprise, but one that I relished. I thought it might be interesting to watch possible PTDs-to-be in action before they undergo any formal training and I was right – it was indeed a worthy experience.
Yes, I saw a few familiar faces among the participants, including my junior from college and my best friend’s wife. However, the facilitators had been advised (read: warned) not to be or seen to be too friendly with the participants – and so I kept my distance.
It was my first experience as a facilitator – but I guess it wasn’t that difficult or worrying to be in the seat of a facilitator compared to being one of the assessed participants. Still, a few of my fellow facilitators confessed that at first it could be quite a daunting task to give instructions and provoke the participants during the activities – but it always got better after one or two activities.
There are a few lessons and values instilled among the PTDs that I have learned to appreciate more since my formal training in Intan four years ago. Things I wish some good candidates have known during the PAC, such as:
* Volunteering is good. Dominating is not. If one of your peers volunteer to take over any task after you have done so – make way for them;
* It is just as important to listen to what others have to say as to voice out your opinion. So, speak up, but do give consideration for other people’s views too;
* Never say “I can’t” when you are invited to present for the group. Even when you know your BM or English is not that good, just give it a try first. The main thing is that you dare to step forward and rise up to the challenge;
* A good diplomat does not need to raise his or her voice unnecessarily to emphasis a point – how it is said and one’s body language could help drive any of one’s point home. And no, there is no need to respond defensively or aggressively upon any provocation, imagined or otherwise;
* Everyone should use the given 5 minutes effectively for public speaking. Less than 4 minutes could mean that you lack confidence and just want to rush things to get them quickly over with. Over 5 minutes is pointless because the panel stopped awarding any point after the bell is rung twice;
* Avoid talking on everybody’s favorite topic. After a while, it gets a bit tiring to hear people talking about the same thing again and again and again. During the recent sessions, social ills and ICT were the top topics chosen by the participants – and yes, they became dull rather quickly;
* Posture speaks a lot. Stand straight, eyes front, shoulders back, use gesture as appropriate and no hands in pockets or behind your back. Make eye contact by scanning the whole audience and change facial expression to emphasise points;
* Less is more. Covering 10 tips on how to be a good parent is too much for a 5 minutes speech. Alternate your volume, alternate your speed and stop for pauses as you move from one point to another;
* Keep it simple. Give a concise and precise introduction and stick to simple English if you think you’ll have some trouble pronouncing some ‘big words’. The impact you make during the introduction can hook or lose the audience’s immediate attention. And no, telling a well-known (lame) joke does not make a riveting introduction;
* Even when you know that you won’t be joining any physical activity due to some constraints, just be attired appropriately when asked to do so. It’s part of what PTDs refer to as esprit de corp;
Oh, I've enjoyed the experience as a facilitator tremendously. Enjoyed provoking thoughts and watched people changing their decisions, enjoyed challenging some participants to do more than they thought they were able to, enjoyed pondering on some of the public speeches, enjoyed cheering the participants on during the run; enjoyed acting as Yang Dipertua Dewan during the debate – and enjoyed the delicious strong black kopi kampung as could only be found in Intan…
The speech I enjoyed most? It was on values learned from The Apprentice.
Yes, I saw a few familiar faces among the participants, including my junior from college and my best friend’s wife. However, the facilitators had been advised (read: warned) not to be or seen to be too friendly with the participants – and so I kept my distance.
It was my first experience as a facilitator – but I guess it wasn’t that difficult or worrying to be in the seat of a facilitator compared to being one of the assessed participants. Still, a few of my fellow facilitators confessed that at first it could be quite a daunting task to give instructions and provoke the participants during the activities – but it always got better after one or two activities.
There are a few lessons and values instilled among the PTDs that I have learned to appreciate more since my formal training in Intan four years ago. Things I wish some good candidates have known during the PAC, such as:
* Volunteering is good. Dominating is not. If one of your peers volunteer to take over any task after you have done so – make way for them;
* It is just as important to listen to what others have to say as to voice out your opinion. So, speak up, but do give consideration for other people’s views too;
* Never say “I can’t” when you are invited to present for the group. Even when you know your BM or English is not that good, just give it a try first. The main thing is that you dare to step forward and rise up to the challenge;
* A good diplomat does not need to raise his or her voice unnecessarily to emphasis a point – how it is said and one’s body language could help drive any of one’s point home. And no, there is no need to respond defensively or aggressively upon any provocation, imagined or otherwise;
* Everyone should use the given 5 minutes effectively for public speaking. Less than 4 minutes could mean that you lack confidence and just want to rush things to get them quickly over with. Over 5 minutes is pointless because the panel stopped awarding any point after the bell is rung twice;
* Avoid talking on everybody’s favorite topic. After a while, it gets a bit tiring to hear people talking about the same thing again and again and again. During the recent sessions, social ills and ICT were the top topics chosen by the participants – and yes, they became dull rather quickly;
* Posture speaks a lot. Stand straight, eyes front, shoulders back, use gesture as appropriate and no hands in pockets or behind your back. Make eye contact by scanning the whole audience and change facial expression to emphasise points;
* Less is more. Covering 10 tips on how to be a good parent is too much for a 5 minutes speech. Alternate your volume, alternate your speed and stop for pauses as you move from one point to another;
* Keep it simple. Give a concise and precise introduction and stick to simple English if you think you’ll have some trouble pronouncing some ‘big words’. The impact you make during the introduction can hook or lose the audience’s immediate attention. And no, telling a well-known (lame) joke does not make a riveting introduction;
* Even when you know that you won’t be joining any physical activity due to some constraints, just be attired appropriately when asked to do so. It’s part of what PTDs refer to as esprit de corp;
Oh, I've enjoyed the experience as a facilitator tremendously. Enjoyed provoking thoughts and watched people changing their decisions, enjoyed challenging some participants to do more than they thought they were able to, enjoyed pondering on some of the public speeches, enjoyed cheering the participants on during the run; enjoyed acting as Yang Dipertua Dewan during the debate – and enjoyed the delicious strong black kopi kampung as could only be found in Intan…
The speech I enjoyed most? It was on values learned from The Apprentice.
Thursday, May 05, 2005
You are Loved, Ayah - today and always
It's Ayah's birthday today. The beginning of many, many birthdays this month. Mak's birthday is next week - yes, Ayah and Mak were born exactly a week apart. Mine is somewhere in the middle - five days after Ayah's and two days before Mak's. Two of my uncles and two of my cousins are celebrating their birthday in May (in fact, Ayah Lang's birthday is also today). And don't get me started on my friends' birthdays... (then there's Labour Day, Mother's Day, Teacher's Day... you get the drift...)
Too bad that 050505 is a day that will be remembered by many as the day on which the price of fuel hiked up all of a sudden - but still, I guess my dad would have other better reason(s) to remember this day. Like having his son-in-law beating his daughter at wishing him happy birthday... And having a prospective daughter-in-law calling him up to wish happy birthday too... I pray that other things in other sections of his life are flourishing well too...
I don't think Ayah has ever read my blog - but I hope he knows that it's not just at special times like this, but each and every day, he is loved far more than words can ever say! I hope things go well his way and Allah will bless him always.
P/S: Note the time I reserved to publish this particular entry - 05:05, 050505... Cool, eh? And 5 happens to be my favorite number...
Too bad that 050505 is a day that will be remembered by many as the day on which the price of fuel hiked up all of a sudden - but still, I guess my dad would have other better reason(s) to remember this day. Like having his son-in-law beating his daughter at wishing him happy birthday... And having a prospective daughter-in-law calling him up to wish happy birthday too... I pray that other things in other sections of his life are flourishing well too...
I don't think Ayah has ever read my blog - but I hope he knows that it's not just at special times like this, but each and every day, he is loved far more than words can ever say! I hope things go well his way and Allah will bless him always.
P/S: Note the time I reserved to publish this particular entry - 05:05, 050505... Cool, eh? And 5 happens to be my favorite number...
Thursday, April 28, 2005
Be careful what you wish for
I sometimes complained to my husband on how it sometimes seemed unfair that he was never around when I was at my worst during this pregnancy. I mean, I think my parents and parents-in-law had to care for me more than my own husband during the worst and he’s only around when I was rather okay. Understandably so, since he’s only back on a monthly basis and the worst was already over when he came back for the week-long mid-semester break.
Well, last week he was back from Terengganu for the Maulidur Rasul break – and guess what happened on the first day of his arrival? I fell sick.
Or rather, my left leg hurt. Like crazy.
His college gave longer break than most because two days prior to Maulidur Rasul, they had a convocation ceremony for last year’s students. Which meant he got 5-days break instead of the anticipated 3-days off.
However, just before his return, I learned that I had been selected as a facilitator for a session of PTD Assessment Centre (PAC) at Intengah from 21-24 April – which coincided with hubby’s Maulidur Rasul break. The participants were asked to attend it beginning 22 April, but the facilitators had to be there a day earlier for a briefing and some training.
So, the fact that my leg all of a sudden refused to work like normal on the day my husband returned, plus the fact that I wouldn’t be able to spend much time with him for most part of his break was rather, err, frustrating.
I had to call in sick for two days due to the pain in my left leg. On the first day, hubby drove me to Kampung Delek in Kapar to see a family masseur. She was astounded by the aches – it was due to some wind in my leg that prevented normal blood flow and affected the “urat-urat” as well. No, it did not happen overnight – my masseur asked me what could possibly caused that much wind in my body and I told her about my cousin’s habit of sleeping with both the air-conditioner and the ceiling fan on. Well, I normally spend my weekdays at my uncle’s place in Putrajaya and only return to PJ or Seremban during weekends. So, I learned to adjust to my cousin’s preference when bedtime comes although I normally prefer only letting either the air-cond or the ceiling fan on. I never thought that it could lead to that much pain in one's leg...
Not feeling much different after the massage, the next day, on the way back to Seremban, we stopped at Kampung Rinching to see another masseur, as recommended by my brother-in-law’s wife. That Mbah’s style of massage is a lot milder and gentler compared to my normal masseur but her verdict was similar – the cause was sleeping with the air-cond on without using a thick comforter or putting on a pair of socks. I made a solemn promise to myself there and then never to sleep in a cold room without a thick blanket ever again – or at least until my child is born…
The spasm was so bad that I had to perform my solat by sitting on a chair for a few days, I had to sit very-very slowly and needed some assistance to stand up. Hubby helped me out every time without any complaint. He prepared the chair for me before solat, he waited patiently as I walked slowly, he assisted me everytime I needed to get up and he pampered me in everyway possible. Alhamdulillah, my leg was better by the time I had to report for duty as a PAC facilitator, but not properly healed, so I still walked with a slight limp during the PAC session.
I guess, somewhere at the back of my mind, I must had wished for my husband to be around when I was sick. So, the episode was a lesson of some sort – be careful what you wish for… your wish could just come true.
(And when it did – I wished that I’d never wished so in the first place…)
Well, last week he was back from Terengganu for the Maulidur Rasul break – and guess what happened on the first day of his arrival? I fell sick.
Or rather, my left leg hurt. Like crazy.
His college gave longer break than most because two days prior to Maulidur Rasul, they had a convocation ceremony for last year’s students. Which meant he got 5-days break instead of the anticipated 3-days off.
However, just before his return, I learned that I had been selected as a facilitator for a session of PTD Assessment Centre (PAC) at Intengah from 21-24 April – which coincided with hubby’s Maulidur Rasul break. The participants were asked to attend it beginning 22 April, but the facilitators had to be there a day earlier for a briefing and some training.
So, the fact that my leg all of a sudden refused to work like normal on the day my husband returned, plus the fact that I wouldn’t be able to spend much time with him for most part of his break was rather, err, frustrating.
I had to call in sick for two days due to the pain in my left leg. On the first day, hubby drove me to Kampung Delek in Kapar to see a family masseur. She was astounded by the aches – it was due to some wind in my leg that prevented normal blood flow and affected the “urat-urat” as well. No, it did not happen overnight – my masseur asked me what could possibly caused that much wind in my body and I told her about my cousin’s habit of sleeping with both the air-conditioner and the ceiling fan on. Well, I normally spend my weekdays at my uncle’s place in Putrajaya and only return to PJ or Seremban during weekends. So, I learned to adjust to my cousin’s preference when bedtime comes although I normally prefer only letting either the air-cond or the ceiling fan on. I never thought that it could lead to that much pain in one's leg...
Not feeling much different after the massage, the next day, on the way back to Seremban, we stopped at Kampung Rinching to see another masseur, as recommended by my brother-in-law’s wife. That Mbah’s style of massage is a lot milder and gentler compared to my normal masseur but her verdict was similar – the cause was sleeping with the air-cond on without using a thick comforter or putting on a pair of socks. I made a solemn promise to myself there and then never to sleep in a cold room without a thick blanket ever again – or at least until my child is born…
The spasm was so bad that I had to perform my solat by sitting on a chair for a few days, I had to sit very-very slowly and needed some assistance to stand up. Hubby helped me out every time without any complaint. He prepared the chair for me before solat, he waited patiently as I walked slowly, he assisted me everytime I needed to get up and he pampered me in everyway possible. Alhamdulillah, my leg was better by the time I had to report for duty as a PAC facilitator, but not properly healed, so I still walked with a slight limp during the PAC session.
I guess, somewhere at the back of my mind, I must had wished for my husband to be around when I was sick. So, the episode was a lesson of some sort – be careful what you wish for… your wish could just come true.
(And when it did – I wished that I’d never wished so in the first place…)
Thursday, April 07, 2005
"Garang tapi best..."
Part of the reasons my young cousins are close to me is because I normally entertain them more than other older cousins. Upon learning of my wedding, a cousin immediately remarked in dismay, “ala, nanti Kak Eda dah tak leh bawak jalan-jalan, dah tak leh belanja… Ala, tak bestnya…”
Most of my cousins had at one time or another asked for a treat from me – whether for some sweets, some ice cream, some Slurpee from 7-Eleven store, or cajoled me into buying a book or a VCD. Which I often obliged because not only it gives me pleasure to see their bright smile of joy, it also gives me pleasure in just sharing their joy.
Although I’m not a chocolate lover, I love sweets and ice cream. So buying those for my cousins usually means a treat for myself too. When I was younger, I almost always had steady supplies of sweets in my bag - a fact well known by my cousins that once, a five-year-old cousin upon reaching my home, straight away went to my room and searched my bag for sweets. My auntie gasped at his behaviour, yet I couldn't help but laughed at it. Of course he found them - and he got more than his siblings simply because he found them first. Although I don't keep much sweets in my handbag nowadays if ever, there's almost always a tub of ice cream ready for the young guns' attack in the freezer. The red bean ice cream potong are off limit though - they are meant for my parents, the respected Ayah Long and Mak Long.
Buying children books for younger cousins mean I can go ooh-and-aah together with them over some amazing facts found in those books. I sometimes read out stories or retold stories from some children book for them – in the car during family outings or before they go to sleep when we stay under one roof (as we sometimes do, during Raya and other family gatherings, usually during school holidays). Enid Blyton is almost everyone’s favourite, but I sometimes narrate horror stories from my school days or stories of Prophets, of Rasulullah (peace be upon him) and his Sahabah, depending on what my cousins were interested in on that particular day.
I especially love taking my female cousins out – window shopping and dining at shopping malls or just going for a jog at a nearby park followed by a small treat afterwards. I guess that’s why their immediate response upon learning of my wedding was partly dismay – at the thought of having nobody else to plead for treats and to chauffeur them around like I used to.
I was already eleven when I got my first female cousin, and more female cousins arrived after I was already in high school or beyond. With our large age gap, it’s a pleasure to be a big sis to them, the one I wished I had when I was younger. The one they can confide in, ask a lot of questions to and manja with, although being the eldest daughter of the eldest son also means I have some authority over (read: scold) them when they misbehave.
I can be rather strict as a disciplinarian – but often, the ‘nicer’ side of me are remembered more. As one nine-year-old cousin put it, “Kak Eda garang, tapi best…” When asked to further explain on what she meant by being ‘best’, she just shrugged and said “banyak sangat sebab, susah nak cakap”.
I guess in the end, that’s what pleases me most about being nice to my young cousins – the thought that somewhere inside their heart, there’s a fondness specially reserved for their old Kak Eda. Although they might not be able to quite explain it – it’s there for sure.
Most of my cousins had at one time or another asked for a treat from me – whether for some sweets, some ice cream, some Slurpee from 7-Eleven store, or cajoled me into buying a book or a VCD. Which I often obliged because not only it gives me pleasure to see their bright smile of joy, it also gives me pleasure in just sharing their joy.
Although I’m not a chocolate lover, I love sweets and ice cream. So buying those for my cousins usually means a treat for myself too. When I was younger, I almost always had steady supplies of sweets in my bag - a fact well known by my cousins that once, a five-year-old cousin upon reaching my home, straight away went to my room and searched my bag for sweets. My auntie gasped at his behaviour, yet I couldn't help but laughed at it. Of course he found them - and he got more than his siblings simply because he found them first. Although I don't keep much sweets in my handbag nowadays if ever, there's almost always a tub of ice cream ready for the young guns' attack in the freezer. The red bean ice cream potong are off limit though - they are meant for my parents, the respected Ayah Long and Mak Long.
Buying children books for younger cousins mean I can go ooh-and-aah together with them over some amazing facts found in those books. I sometimes read out stories or retold stories from some children book for them – in the car during family outings or before they go to sleep when we stay under one roof (as we sometimes do, during Raya and other family gatherings, usually during school holidays). Enid Blyton is almost everyone’s favourite, but I sometimes narrate horror stories from my school days or stories of Prophets, of Rasulullah (peace be upon him) and his Sahabah, depending on what my cousins were interested in on that particular day.
I especially love taking my female cousins out – window shopping and dining at shopping malls or just going for a jog at a nearby park followed by a small treat afterwards. I guess that’s why their immediate response upon learning of my wedding was partly dismay – at the thought of having nobody else to plead for treats and to chauffeur them around like I used to.
I was already eleven when I got my first female cousin, and more female cousins arrived after I was already in high school or beyond. With our large age gap, it’s a pleasure to be a big sis to them, the one I wished I had when I was younger. The one they can confide in, ask a lot of questions to and manja with, although being the eldest daughter of the eldest son also means I have some authority over (read: scold) them when they misbehave.
I can be rather strict as a disciplinarian – but often, the ‘nicer’ side of me are remembered more. As one nine-year-old cousin put it, “Kak Eda garang, tapi best…” When asked to further explain on what she meant by being ‘best’, she just shrugged and said “banyak sangat sebab, susah nak cakap”.
I guess in the end, that’s what pleases me most about being nice to my young cousins – the thought that somewhere inside their heart, there’s a fondness specially reserved for their old Kak Eda. Although they might not be able to quite explain it – it’s there for sure.
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
Infamous vs not famous
I met a senior from high school during a short-course last week. He looked familiar and his name sounded familiar, so when we were placed in the same discussion group, I took that opportunity to check whether or not my initial thought that we were from the same school was right. He confirmed it – yes, we went to the same school and he was a year senior than me.
When it came to seniors a year ahead of me, I normally would mention my brother-in-law’s name as the point of reference – “sama batch dengan Talhah, kan?” If it’s a few years more senior, then I’ll use my sister-in-law’s name instead – “sama batch dengan Kak Telaah, kan?” My husband, who’s sandwiched between these two seniors of mine, (thankfully) went to Kisas instead. Though I never even dreamed of someday marrying someone related to my schoolmates, sometimes, having relatives from the same school could come in handy, even if it’s just as a point of reference…
Anyway, back to the high school senior (who’s now my junior in PTD service), upon learning of my batch, he asked whether I was in the same batch with a few girls. I confirmed it, yes, I was in the same batch with those girls. Not surprisingly, all the names mentioned belonged to a bunch of popular/pretty girls.
When I met my brother-in-law and mentioned it, he told me a story that was kind of an eye-opener for me. According to him, the real reason guys from his batch remembered this particular group of girls was due to an incident involving a guy from his batch. Apparently, the guy had been strictly questioned by an ustaz on what he had done to one particular girl. The guy had no idea on what it was all about and was astonished to be grilled rather harshly by the ustaz. The ustaz then explained that the girl in question had an episode of hysteria in which she kept calling for his names.
I’m not sure whether or not the two ever got on as a couple – but the girl had been notoriously noticed by the guy’s whole batch as the one who kept shouting his name when she had hysteria. And since she belonged to a group of rather pretty girls, other girls in her group became equally well-known.
The hysteria episode was over long ago, but the girl is still remembered for that. In contrast, my senior did not recognise me at all when I introduced myself as his junior. Partly because he went out of the school after form three when he did not do well in Arabic; partly because I only began to mingle more with my male seniors after I entered form four due to various clubs’ and societies’ activities and was a virtual unknown prior to that.
Still, between being famous for some infamous reasons and practically unheard of – I’ll choose being anonymous any day.
When it came to seniors a year ahead of me, I normally would mention my brother-in-law’s name as the point of reference – “sama batch dengan Talhah, kan?” If it’s a few years more senior, then I’ll use my sister-in-law’s name instead – “sama batch dengan Kak Telaah, kan?” My husband, who’s sandwiched between these two seniors of mine, (thankfully) went to Kisas instead. Though I never even dreamed of someday marrying someone related to my schoolmates, sometimes, having relatives from the same school could come in handy, even if it’s just as a point of reference…
Anyway, back to the high school senior (who’s now my junior in PTD service), upon learning of my batch, he asked whether I was in the same batch with a few girls. I confirmed it, yes, I was in the same batch with those girls. Not surprisingly, all the names mentioned belonged to a bunch of popular/pretty girls.
When I met my brother-in-law and mentioned it, he told me a story that was kind of an eye-opener for me. According to him, the real reason guys from his batch remembered this particular group of girls was due to an incident involving a guy from his batch. Apparently, the guy had been strictly questioned by an ustaz on what he had done to one particular girl. The guy had no idea on what it was all about and was astonished to be grilled rather harshly by the ustaz. The ustaz then explained that the girl in question had an episode of hysteria in which she kept calling for his names.
I’m not sure whether or not the two ever got on as a couple – but the girl had been notoriously noticed by the guy’s whole batch as the one who kept shouting his name when she had hysteria. And since she belonged to a group of rather pretty girls, other girls in her group became equally well-known.
The hysteria episode was over long ago, but the girl is still remembered for that. In contrast, my senior did not recognise me at all when I introduced myself as his junior. Partly because he went out of the school after form three when he did not do well in Arabic; partly because I only began to mingle more with my male seniors after I entered form four due to various clubs’ and societies’ activities and was a virtual unknown prior to that.
Still, between being famous for some infamous reasons and practically unheard of – I’ll choose being anonymous any day.
Fair lah kan?
“Sayang, will you allow me to cut my hair? Please… Please… Please…”
“Ok… just snip an inch off”
We’ve been having this sort of discussion for quite some time now. Everytime I seeked permission to have a hair cut, my husband would either dismissed it or pretended to dwell on it but finally only allowed snipping an inch off. I think my hair is way too long but hubby thinks it’s not long enough. And I really want a hair cut so badly that I’m willing to do it myself if need be.
I tried to convince him that I won’t crop it short a’la Demi Moore’s style when she was starring in Ghost. I just want to trim it a little bit, perhaps keeping it at shoulder length, which I feel suits me best. But he wouldn’t listen to any of my pleading. Instead he wants me to keep growing it until it reaches the back of my waist, or longer. “Women look better with their hair long. The longer, the better,” he insisted. Since my hair grows very slowly, it’ll take ages before it measures up to his requirement. Yet, even now I already feel like my hair is way too long for my own comfort.
Perhaps it was partly my fault. He once asked me what’s my personal record of longest hair and when was it. I carelessly told him that it was during my student days in UK. Why so? Oh, because my ex was growing his hair long and I just wanted to make sure that my hair was longer than his.
Perhaps that statement touched him more than he wanted to openly admit. Now he’s adamant in prohibiting me from cutting my hair until it at least reaches my waist. I’ve never ever grown my hair that long and he knows it, so basically he’s insisting that I set a new personal record of hair length– by his request.
Anyway, since he already allowed me to burn his old photos, I guess it’s my turn to make allowances for him on this matter. Fair lah kan?
“Ok… just snip an inch off”
We’ve been having this sort of discussion for quite some time now. Everytime I seeked permission to have a hair cut, my husband would either dismissed it or pretended to dwell on it but finally only allowed snipping an inch off. I think my hair is way too long but hubby thinks it’s not long enough. And I really want a hair cut so badly that I’m willing to do it myself if need be.
I tried to convince him that I won’t crop it short a’la Demi Moore’s style when she was starring in Ghost. I just want to trim it a little bit, perhaps keeping it at shoulder length, which I feel suits me best. But he wouldn’t listen to any of my pleading. Instead he wants me to keep growing it until it reaches the back of my waist, or longer. “Women look better with their hair long. The longer, the better,” he insisted. Since my hair grows very slowly, it’ll take ages before it measures up to his requirement. Yet, even now I already feel like my hair is way too long for my own comfort.
Perhaps it was partly my fault. He once asked me what’s my personal record of longest hair and when was it. I carelessly told him that it was during my student days in UK. Why so? Oh, because my ex was growing his hair long and I just wanted to make sure that my hair was longer than his.
Perhaps that statement touched him more than he wanted to openly admit. Now he’s adamant in prohibiting me from cutting my hair until it at least reaches my waist. I’ve never ever grown my hair that long and he knows it, so basically he’s insisting that I set a new personal record of hair length– by his request.
Anyway, since he already allowed me to burn his old photos, I guess it’s my turn to make allowances for him on this matter. Fair lah kan?
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
A Public Apology to R
Ayah once yelled at our Indonesian helper for ‘spoiling’ his fresh-from-market lamb chops. He told her earlier that he was going to prepare the lamb chop – but by the time he went to the kitchen the girl had already cut the lamb chop into small pieces, which made him really upset. The poor girl thought that she was making things easier for my father by cutting the meat beforehand, innocently oblivious to the fact that lamb chops are supposed to be as they were.
Mak quickly consoled Ayah, “Well, she’d already cut it, you can’t do much about it now. But I’m sure she’s learned her lesson, dear. After all, she thought she was just being helpful. She did not even know she was doing something wrong because she was totally ignorant about lamb chops and what they are supposed to look like”
It’s true isn’t it – sometimes we did something wrong and did not even realised it due to our ignorance?
For example, yesterday I unintentionally caused a friend some distress over an e-mail sent to higher-level officers. Apparently, there was some flare-up at her office involving e-mail sent to a higher-level officer which have caused her colleague some trouble. Working in another office, I had no idea of what was happening at her workplace, so when I forwarded her e-mail to a higher level officer, it was done in good faith. After all, the officer also knows my friend and so I thought it wasn’t a big deal.
So I was taken aback when I received an e-mail by my friend scolding me rather harshly for what I did, which was also c.c. to a few other mutual friends. I took a deep breath before I replied that e-mail, apologizing and at the same time explaining why I did so.
When she replied, in a softer tone – telling us how disturbed her friend was, and how she cried on my friend’s shoulder due to the mix-up caused by the e-mail sent to the higher-level officer, and all - only then understanding dawned on me…
I did something wrong, for which I am really sorry. But believe me, I did not realised it due to my ignorance of what took place in her office. If I had known, I wouldn’t have done such thing. And dear R, trust me, I've learned my lesson. If it's any consolation, you may take this as a public apology.
Mak quickly consoled Ayah, “Well, she’d already cut it, you can’t do much about it now. But I’m sure she’s learned her lesson, dear. After all, she thought she was just being helpful. She did not even know she was doing something wrong because she was totally ignorant about lamb chops and what they are supposed to look like”
It’s true isn’t it – sometimes we did something wrong and did not even realised it due to our ignorance?
For example, yesterday I unintentionally caused a friend some distress over an e-mail sent to higher-level officers. Apparently, there was some flare-up at her office involving e-mail sent to a higher-level officer which have caused her colleague some trouble. Working in another office, I had no idea of what was happening at her workplace, so when I forwarded her e-mail to a higher level officer, it was done in good faith. After all, the officer also knows my friend and so I thought it wasn’t a big deal.
So I was taken aback when I received an e-mail by my friend scolding me rather harshly for what I did, which was also c.c. to a few other mutual friends. I took a deep breath before I replied that e-mail, apologizing and at the same time explaining why I did so.
When she replied, in a softer tone – telling us how disturbed her friend was, and how she cried on my friend’s shoulder due to the mix-up caused by the e-mail sent to the higher-level officer, and all - only then understanding dawned on me…
I did something wrong, for which I am really sorry. But believe me, I did not realised it due to my ignorance of what took place in her office. If I had known, I wouldn’t have done such thing. And dear R, trust me, I've learned my lesson. If it's any consolation, you may take this as a public apology.
Maybe it's in our nature
Unlike happy news which have a mysterious way of travelling fast, not-so-good news seldom travel far or fast. Which in a way, limit the dose of support and encouragement the people in pain could and should get.
Three of my friends are giving birth to their respective third child this year. Juz is counting her days now, while Wina is due a bit later and Yam (yes, my goddaughter, Khadijah Najwa is getting another sibling) even later. Most of our friends have heard about the anticipated arrival of additional bundles of joys.
Three of my friends just went through some rough times. One girl has to let go of her new fetus after the doctor confirmed that her fetus was not growing and no heartbeat was detected. Another friend’s wife went through a similar experience – she had to let go of her less-than-two-months-old fetus due to some complications. As for the other girl, she is still healing her inner wounds after a broken engagement recently.
They say that friends could help double our happiness and divide our sorrow when we share them. But I supposed, it’s always easier to let others know of happy news – weddings, births, promotions, getting a new and better car – than to share one’s gloomy news. Maybe it’s in our nature that we don’t like to trouble others with our own troubles. Maybe it’s in our nature that we don’t want others to worry about us too much. Maybe.
But often we forget that sometimes the best way to soften one's troubles is to solace those of others. Since everybody has their own problems, sometimes in comforting others, we comfort ourselves too. Besides, isn’t kindness an inner desire that makes us want to do good things even if we do not get anything in return? Maybe that is in our nature too – but often we tend to forget about it.
After all – it is in our nature to be forgetful…
#####
I learned of an old acquaintance’s death yesterday. He was 29 and was suffering from cancer. Allahyarham Ahmad Najmi Haron had been safely buried in Newcastle, England.
I heard that he discovered of his illness some time in mid 1999. All these years, I had never known about it at all, perhaps partly because we are from different batches. Thanks to some project in which we were both involved, I remember Najmi as a strong-willed person, a little on the serious side and very dedicated in whatever he was doing. I believe he will be remembered fondly and will be sorely missed by family, friends and even acquaintances – Al-Fatihah…
Three of my friends are giving birth to their respective third child this year. Juz is counting her days now, while Wina is due a bit later and Yam (yes, my goddaughter, Khadijah Najwa is getting another sibling) even later. Most of our friends have heard about the anticipated arrival of additional bundles of joys.
Three of my friends just went through some rough times. One girl has to let go of her new fetus after the doctor confirmed that her fetus was not growing and no heartbeat was detected. Another friend’s wife went through a similar experience – she had to let go of her less-than-two-months-old fetus due to some complications. As for the other girl, she is still healing her inner wounds after a broken engagement recently.
They say that friends could help double our happiness and divide our sorrow when we share them. But I supposed, it’s always easier to let others know of happy news – weddings, births, promotions, getting a new and better car – than to share one’s gloomy news. Maybe it’s in our nature that we don’t like to trouble others with our own troubles. Maybe it’s in our nature that we don’t want others to worry about us too much. Maybe.
But often we forget that sometimes the best way to soften one's troubles is to solace those of others. Since everybody has their own problems, sometimes in comforting others, we comfort ourselves too. Besides, isn’t kindness an inner desire that makes us want to do good things even if we do not get anything in return? Maybe that is in our nature too – but often we tend to forget about it.
After all – it is in our nature to be forgetful…
#####
I learned of an old acquaintance’s death yesterday. He was 29 and was suffering from cancer. Allahyarham Ahmad Najmi Haron had been safely buried in Newcastle, England.
I heard that he discovered of his illness some time in mid 1999. All these years, I had never known about it at all, perhaps partly because we are from different batches. Thanks to some project in which we were both involved, I remember Najmi as a strong-willed person, a little on the serious side and very dedicated in whatever he was doing. I believe he will be remembered fondly and will be sorely missed by family, friends and even acquaintances – Al-Fatihah…
Monday, March 21, 2005
How to do well at the PTD Assessment Centre
It’s that time of the year again – many have just discovered that they passed the PTD entry exam and had been informed that they would be asked to proceed for a 3-days Assessment program at various locations.
Friends and strangers have asked me to provide some tips on how to do well during the Assessment. Well, I don’t know much, but I guess my answer would be similar to other fellow PTDs…
So here’s some general guidelines:
- be yourself;
- be original;
- don’t domineer;
- don’t over do it;
- make new friends; and
- enjoy the experience.
There'll be lots of team-building sessions as well as public speaking sessions -in English and Bahasa. Preparing ahead of time might help. Be ready with good reference. And if you think a lot of people will talk about tsunami or Bukit Cherakah or haram sausage made from pig intestines - talk about something else. Be creative, be different - it doesn't even matter if you talk about the teh tarik culture or napping at work (which I did during the Assessment in 2000 - so you might want to talk about something else...) so long as you prove that you have the confidence to stand up in front of everybody to state your case as clearly and precisely as possible.
Among others, the observers will be looking out for leadership skills, ability to work well in a team, good manners and good personality. I am not saying that all PTDs have great personalities – but it helps. Smile and make friends - even with the pakcik and makcik at Dewan Selera.
And yes – watching, observing and learning from other peoples’ mistakes on The Apprentice might help too.
Friends and strangers have asked me to provide some tips on how to do well during the Assessment. Well, I don’t know much, but I guess my answer would be similar to other fellow PTDs…
So here’s some general guidelines:
- be yourself;
- be original;
- don’t domineer;
- don’t over do it;
- make new friends; and
- enjoy the experience.
There'll be lots of team-building sessions as well as public speaking sessions -in English and Bahasa. Preparing ahead of time might help. Be ready with good reference. And if you think a lot of people will talk about tsunami or Bukit Cherakah or haram sausage made from pig intestines - talk about something else. Be creative, be different - it doesn't even matter if you talk about the teh tarik culture or napping at work (which I did during the Assessment in 2000 - so you might want to talk about something else...) so long as you prove that you have the confidence to stand up in front of everybody to state your case as clearly and precisely as possible.
Among others, the observers will be looking out for leadership skills, ability to work well in a team, good manners and good personality. I am not saying that all PTDs have great personalities – but it helps. Smile and make friends - even with the pakcik and makcik at Dewan Selera.
And yes – watching, observing and learning from other peoples’ mistakes on The Apprentice might help too.
Friday, March 11, 2005
Don't worry...
Sometimes, things we were so worried about never happen anyway.
Take last week for an instance, when I was notified that I had been among the few selected to be recipient of Japanese Government Monbukagakusho a.k.a. Mambusho scholarship to pursue my Masters degree in Waseda University. I had been scheduled to leave in early April 2005.
If things had been different – I would be jumping with joy. Out of 8000 applicants, less than 30 finally got the scholarship so I must admit that it came as quite a delightful surprise to know that I made it. The fact that I actually got a placement in Waseda University (yes, that’s where Royal Prof. Ungku Aziz went to study) was a wonderful surprise too – since none of my previous e-mail seeking help with getting a Letter of Acceptance from them were replied. I thought that I might stood a better chance to go to Kobe University, as the then possible-future-Supervisor responded positively to my queries. Besides, with my 2nd Lower degree, I wasn’t putting high hopes on getting a place in Waseda although I put it as my first preference in my application form. If there is such a thing as Ivy League among Japanese universities, Waseda would definitely be part of it.
But circumstances have changed. When I applied for the scholarship more than a year ago I was single and had no immediate plan of getting married. But wedding bells came my way and now I am in the family way. I am expected to deliver my baby sometimes in September 2005. I am excited to have this baby and I am equally excited and fascinated at the idea of going to Japan to experience new frontiers of education and life itself.
However, understandably, I am a little hesitant to leave for Tokyo right now due to fact that I’ve gone through some rough times since becoming pregnant. Since this is my first pregnancy, my doctor has advised me not to travel for long hours until after delivery to avoid undue complications.
Besides, I am also worried about the high cost in medical expenses in Japan considering the fact that the scholarship does not cover maternity and related expenses. Should I decide to take a risk and leave for Japan in April 2005 and deliver my baby in Japan, where do I fork out the amount needed to cover the expenses – I’ve spent most of my savings for my wedding last year. On the other hand, if I decide to give birth in Malaysia, I have to return to the country some time in June-July 2005, of which I am not too sure whether I would be allowed to travel as by then I would be about seven months pregnant and many flights refuse to allow such ladies onboard. In any case, it will affect both my financial situation and my studies.
As for my husband, when he first heard the news on the phone, his first response was “What did Ayah say about this?” Nope, he did not sound ecstatic at all. The “Congratulations” that I received from him sounded rather flat. The news came at the wrong time - he had been increasingly worried after learning that his coursemate's wife who was also expecting and had gone through a bad case of nausea and vomit had just had a miscarriage. And he'd been told that it's necessary for people with my condition to avoid long hour journey, especially on a flight.
We made sort of a deal before our wedding. I told him about my application for Mambusho scholarship and how I’d been looking forward to pursuing my Masters, to have a chance of enriching my experience in Japan as well as to fulfil my dream to be able to converse well in Nihon-go. He told me about his application for KPLI (a course to train government school teachers) and how his family hoped he would accept it if he get to go. So, we both agree to let each other go, should we be successful in our application, to fulfil our own dreams and oblige our respective family’s wishes.
In fact, he even reassured Ayah that he had no problem of letting me go when the time arrive, with or without him going along. So, that explained why he first asked about Ayah’s opinion when I told him the news. I know, secretly he was hoping that Ayah might not let me go and if that is the case, he could say that he agrees with Ayah’s opinion. But Ayah said – “You’d better go Kak. Do well in your studies and we would figure out something for the maternity expenses.”
Hubby asked if there’s any possibility of postponing the departure until after delivery. I told him that since I need to learn the Japanese Language and pass certain level of the Japanese Language Proficiency Test, I have to go in April. But I checked with the Japanese Embassy anyway.
After listening to my dilemma, the officer in charge at the Embassy kindly told me that yes, it might be possible to defer the commencement date of my study to October. “But wouldn’t it be better if you go next year? Why don’t you re-apply?,” the officer advised. She was worried because I’m due to deliver in September, and normally they only allow student to go two months after delivery. But, no thank you – I refuse to go through all the procedures all over again. Besides, there’s no guarantee that I will get the scholarship if I re-apply. So, I was asked to write a letter, in addition to my first letter of appeal to defer the commencement date of my study, to state that I’m willing to take all responsibilities with regard to my post-natal condition as well as willing to oblige should I be asked to leave in early October.
I’m still waiting to get a formal reply from the Japanese Embassy – but things seemed almost resolved now. I’m greedy that way – I want both the baby and the scholarship. So, all things considered, perhaps going in October is probably the best option I have right now – after my delivery insya Allah. I know I will probably still be weak in October. And I might not be able to breastfeed my baby for long. And I will miss both baby and hubby terribly much until baby is old enough (3 months) to travel to Japan. But I’ll worry about that when the time comes…
After all, sometimes, things we worry about never happen anyway.
Take last week for an instance, when I was notified that I had been among the few selected to be recipient of Japanese Government Monbukagakusho a.k.a. Mambusho scholarship to pursue my Masters degree in Waseda University. I had been scheduled to leave in early April 2005.
If things had been different – I would be jumping with joy. Out of 8000 applicants, less than 30 finally got the scholarship so I must admit that it came as quite a delightful surprise to know that I made it. The fact that I actually got a placement in Waseda University (yes, that’s where Royal Prof. Ungku Aziz went to study) was a wonderful surprise too – since none of my previous e-mail seeking help with getting a Letter of Acceptance from them were replied. I thought that I might stood a better chance to go to Kobe University, as the then possible-future-Supervisor responded positively to my queries. Besides, with my 2nd Lower degree, I wasn’t putting high hopes on getting a place in Waseda although I put it as my first preference in my application form. If there is such a thing as Ivy League among Japanese universities, Waseda would definitely be part of it.
But circumstances have changed. When I applied for the scholarship more than a year ago I was single and had no immediate plan of getting married. But wedding bells came my way and now I am in the family way. I am expected to deliver my baby sometimes in September 2005. I am excited to have this baby and I am equally excited and fascinated at the idea of going to Japan to experience new frontiers of education and life itself.
However, understandably, I am a little hesitant to leave for Tokyo right now due to fact that I’ve gone through some rough times since becoming pregnant. Since this is my first pregnancy, my doctor has advised me not to travel for long hours until after delivery to avoid undue complications.
Besides, I am also worried about the high cost in medical expenses in Japan considering the fact that the scholarship does not cover maternity and related expenses. Should I decide to take a risk and leave for Japan in April 2005 and deliver my baby in Japan, where do I fork out the amount needed to cover the expenses – I’ve spent most of my savings for my wedding last year. On the other hand, if I decide to give birth in Malaysia, I have to return to the country some time in June-July 2005, of which I am not too sure whether I would be allowed to travel as by then I would be about seven months pregnant and many flights refuse to allow such ladies onboard. In any case, it will affect both my financial situation and my studies.
As for my husband, when he first heard the news on the phone, his first response was “What did Ayah say about this?” Nope, he did not sound ecstatic at all. The “Congratulations” that I received from him sounded rather flat. The news came at the wrong time - he had been increasingly worried after learning that his coursemate's wife who was also expecting and had gone through a bad case of nausea and vomit had just had a miscarriage. And he'd been told that it's necessary for people with my condition to avoid long hour journey, especially on a flight.
We made sort of a deal before our wedding. I told him about my application for Mambusho scholarship and how I’d been looking forward to pursuing my Masters, to have a chance of enriching my experience in Japan as well as to fulfil my dream to be able to converse well in Nihon-go. He told me about his application for KPLI (a course to train government school teachers) and how his family hoped he would accept it if he get to go. So, we both agree to let each other go, should we be successful in our application, to fulfil our own dreams and oblige our respective family’s wishes.
In fact, he even reassured Ayah that he had no problem of letting me go when the time arrive, with or without him going along. So, that explained why he first asked about Ayah’s opinion when I told him the news. I know, secretly he was hoping that Ayah might not let me go and if that is the case, he could say that he agrees with Ayah’s opinion. But Ayah said – “You’d better go Kak. Do well in your studies and we would figure out something for the maternity expenses.”
Hubby asked if there’s any possibility of postponing the departure until after delivery. I told him that since I need to learn the Japanese Language and pass certain level of the Japanese Language Proficiency Test, I have to go in April. But I checked with the Japanese Embassy anyway.
After listening to my dilemma, the officer in charge at the Embassy kindly told me that yes, it might be possible to defer the commencement date of my study to October. “But wouldn’t it be better if you go next year? Why don’t you re-apply?,” the officer advised. She was worried because I’m due to deliver in September, and normally they only allow student to go two months after delivery. But, no thank you – I refuse to go through all the procedures all over again. Besides, there’s no guarantee that I will get the scholarship if I re-apply. So, I was asked to write a letter, in addition to my first letter of appeal to defer the commencement date of my study, to state that I’m willing to take all responsibilities with regard to my post-natal condition as well as willing to oblige should I be asked to leave in early October.
I’m still waiting to get a formal reply from the Japanese Embassy – but things seemed almost resolved now. I’m greedy that way – I want both the baby and the scholarship. So, all things considered, perhaps going in October is probably the best option I have right now – after my delivery insya Allah. I know I will probably still be weak in October. And I might not be able to breastfeed my baby for long. And I will miss both baby and hubby terribly much until baby is old enough (3 months) to travel to Japan. But I’ll worry about that when the time comes…
After all, sometimes, things we worry about never happen anyway.
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