Babel

Wall of Dry Ice

2011-12-02T18:15:00.000-08:00

So there I was, on the opposite direction, thinking if I wanted to go another lap. She was walking, with her usual determined gait, her face alternating between resolve and compel. I, on the other hand was hell-bent today would be the day she will break down her walls of ice.

Auntie Perri is the mother of Vasu and she never, as sure as a pig will never fly, smile at anyone other than her own family members, also under very special circumstances. I chanced upon Vasu one day and asked if Auntie Perri is alright because she would just scoff every time I greeted her. Apparently, the 60something woman is a sufferer of a few contemporary illnesses and because of that she had turned into a sour puss. I know how that is like, my mom had to go through the same thing for almost 6 years before she succumbed to it. The poor thing always complained that her body ached all over and was tired of it. Vasu agreed it is not different for Auntie Perri either, hence the 'sunny' temperament and as her health was deteriorating visibly, the family decided to care for her. Every morning the depressed AP is urged to take a walk and do some minor exercise so as to enhance blood flow of her otherwise sedentary body. She doesn't say much and just did what was suggested in a mild grudging manner. AP otherwise would just sit at home, staring out the front lawn and do what people in that condition would do, slowly sinking in her depression. Once I know what was wrong with her, I began to strategise. It cannot be that hard to get a hello from her.

So, on that fortunate morning, I have already done my customary laps and was contemplating if I should push for another when I saw her entering the road from the clubhouse. She obviously just came from the gym and as usual, was wearing the darkest expression a person could conjure. I got down from my bike and walked with it while I slowly approached her. She instinctively saw me coming and looked up ahead and then realizing I was looking at her She averted her eyes and looked down at her trainers. They were white with pink stripes and made a startling color contract with her malayan tiger colored kaftan, the standard night article for most Asian women, the kaftan, not the design. I already have a smile on my face that didn't betray the sum of my resolve. I walked still with the bike in my hand and curved towards her and slowed my pace. Only a few steps away from her and still looking at her, I waited till she lifted her head up and looked at me. I quickly said, in my most girly-almost-sickening-ms-sunnyweather-voice, "Good morning Auntie! How are you doing?" She momentarily froze, uncertainty spreading like bush-fire on a hot summer day all over her face and probably somewhere in the recess of her mind fathomed some ideas of escaping this uninvited scenario before finally, managing in a meek voice and the slightest smile and a subtle nod, "Hello, good morning."

The dry ice is broken to thousands pieces and evaporated into thin air.

The Sands of Time

2011-11-27T05:36:00.000-08:00

So there I was at a BBQ among active 60 year olds. These are dear friends of dear friends and it was my first time meeting them so I wanted to make an impression. We talked about the weather, where I came from and how I ended up in Down Under. She offered that she works with the local hospital as an Administrator. I was impressed and mentioned that in my country, people her age would have retired. I swear it was momentarily but there was a scowl on her face that passed as quickly as it came and as if nothing happens she smiled graciously. The note my friend received the next day in reference to the BBQ was, "Nice food, nice company. Thank you". Very concise? Err... maybe too concise. The next time her husband saw us with a few fillet of whittings which he caught down the Murray Bridge alone. I mentioned what great catch that was and he said, 'Why? Do you think I am too old to go fishing?'. Oppsss... concise note explained!

Two issues here. 1) Lost In Translation; 2) Cultural Variables

1) Lost In Translation
When I expressed how impressed I was that older people still works, it's because in my country, ladies generally wants to retire before 50 and by 60 they are busy repenting of their lifelong sins, providing nursery service for their brood of grandchildren or just waiting for the inevitable in 'pasrah' (to be dealt by Allah). So, really, it was a compliment that I was paying to this woman and she misconstrued my intention while I screwed up the whole situation.

2) Cultural Variables
I find the western society to be very sensitive about being called old, even if they are old. They prefer cream-coated expression like 'seniors' and 'matured'. Maybe one day I will take offence when somebody calls me old but I don't think it would be bother me that much. I would, however, be embarrassed if my age comes to a spotlight for an inappropriate conduct, like wearing something which is not for my age.

So far, I have not met with a local who take offence where age is concern, especially if they are old. The senior citizen near where I grew up, all acknowledge that they are indeed old (er) and THEREFORE wiser and to be respected. And we the younger generation, do give due respect to the old, unquestionably. Could it be this is why they are not offended? Why are Asians generally, more acceptable of the change of times as oppose to their western counterparts?

I like older people, I really do, even if they are grumpier, have their senior moments, grow hairs on places you never thought you can etc. They have other 'golden' qualities which I find very endearing. Growing up with Nans and Great Aunts and Uncles, I was surrounded by old people, literally. You can bet whenever they get together, their conversation does not involved candies or new bicycles. I felt like I was in an exclusive club and very soon found conversation with my own peers quite boring. Thanks to my 'involvements' with them, I became a 'MakNenek' ('Grandmother' in reference to the mouth) to my friends and people my mother's age. My conversations, interests and most of all, to my mother's chagrin, my vocabulary has the echo of a 60 year old. Every conversation was challenging. So in a way, since these days they say old is a state of mind, I grew 'old' before my time.

Perhaps one day the lady in question will have the heart to forgive me for the misunderstanding. It is very delicate as bringing it up would mean I have to go through the exciting task of explaining myself and that could mean more words and (potentially) more misunderstanding. So maybe, I should just leave the matter to sands of times....

Why Teachers Drink

2011-11-22T21:40:00.000-08:00

It's been a while since I have been here. I have not been inspired to write anything, writer's block as some call it. So, here I am posting some kick-ass jokes (at least to me) in the hope that this will inspire me to write something. These exam questions were sent to me by a dear friend who was a teacher, once upon a time and I know many teachers can relate to this funny punchlines. Mind you, these kids who came up with such answers cannot be thought of as intelligence-challenge, rather to me, they are most creative. After all, come what may, they did pen down an answer, one they must have pondered on after they cannot find the real answer. I enjoyed these, tremendously that I almost sprained my ankle falling off my chair especially the last one about where Malays came from. That's also probably, because I am not a teacher.

Catch 22 - 1

2011-08-30T21:23:00.000-07:00

The Hippocratic Oath is an oath traditionally taken by physicians pertaining to the ethical practice of medicine. New doctors recite it, commonly believed to have been written by Hippocrates in 400 BC, to pledge dedication to the patients' well-being and the sanctity of the physician-patient relationship The Hippocratic Oath has been updated by the Declaration of Geneva and it is, as currently amended, reads:

At the time of being admitted as a member of the medical profession:

- I solemnly pledge to consecrate my life to the service of humanity;

- I will give to my teachers the respect and gratitude that is their due;

- I will practice my profession with conscience and dignity;

- The health of my patient will be my first consideration;

- I will respect the secrets that are confided in me, even after the patient has died;

- I will maintain by all the means in my power, the honor and the noble traditions of the medical profession;

- My colleagues will be my sisters and brothers;

- I will not permit considerations of age, disease or disability, creed, ethnic origin, gender, nationality, political affiliation, race, sexual orientation, social standing or any other factor to intervene between my duty and my patient;

- I will maintain the utmost respect for human life;

- I will not use my medical knowledge to violate human rights and civil liberties, even under threat;

- I make these promises solemnly, freely and upon my honor.

In recent times, medical students are allowed to even compose their own medical oaths, preserving the attributes of the original text and maintaining the essence of the credo. (Phewww… can you imagine a zany person like me composing a credo?)

So we can see, as highlighted above, the core affirmation of a medical practitioner is to give utmost importance in preserving life or in attempt to do so. Yet, we can see that this Oath is taken for granted and it is recited more for the sake of tradition as oppose to being a binding condition. Life is allowed to wither away for something more important like management bureaucracy.

Some of you may have experienced or heard of this; a friend was attacked brutally or had an accident. The 21st century survival tactic kicked in and he was taken, bleeding profusely, to a nearest hospital, which happens to be a private hospital. The Emergency unit acted upon your friend, asked crucial questions and upon finding out that this could be a possible police case, instructed you to take your friend to a government hospital 25km away. This life threatening exercise is imposed because private hospital doctors cannot be subpoenaed to a deposition on a patient's injury and prognosis. Government hospital doctors are however, are bound by the powers that be to do the exact opposite, thus making them more accessible to treat any injuries, possible police case or not. However, as we all know, not all government hospital are within momentary access to the place of mishap. Immediate treatment of injuries would increase the chance of survival and therefore our logic tells us (although some of us might be aware of the red taps) to take the injured to the nearest medical help.

By the time you got your friend to the government hospital, he had fallen into a comatose state and succumbed to his injuries later.

Such was the case of the housewife who was stabbed and slashed in Shah Alam recently; she was brought to a private hospital in SJ. But due to bureaucracy, the hospital refused to take her in and she was sent to Klang GH loosing precious blood every second. She died on arrival. Maybe, death IS imminent for her judging by her traumatic injuries but can the doctors not be blamed for lack of trying?

Yeah, I know they are bound. So, why doesn't anybody say anything about it? Isn't holding the very sanctity of the oath the most important aspect of becoming a medical practitioner? So, what is the use of the oath? Because it is fashionable? Does it not matter that with certain status comes great responsibilities? And an oath is an oath, not merely lyrics of a song to be mouthed with a jig – "yayyyy.. amma doctor now, time to make some dosh!"

I am in the opinion that we, consumers in Malaysia, are a very nice lot. We don't complain much, we are thrown at the mercy of the very services we paid with our hard earned money and we don't slap lawsuits like we would the dust on our pants.

What is stopping private hospitals from setting up special units for attending to emergency cases regardless of the nature of the case in the name of saving lives? This also should cover those emergency cases where patients are unable to pay and these charges should be tax exempted by the government. So once the initial treatment has been given, the patient can then be transfered to a nearby General Hospital.
Of course, having said all that, I know some of my doctor mates who share my opinion but as they are bound by the red tapes, they are, well… bound!

2011-07-30T22:50:00.000-07:00

Aleesha Farhana aka Mohd Ashraf Hafeez

So today, this news is splashed all over the papers. She made headlines when she applied for a gender and name change after a sex change 3 years ago but was rejected by the court on 18th July. The Judge, Datuk Mohd Yazid Mustafa ruled there was no legal statute to grant the application based solely on a sex-change operation. He said a person’s gender was determined at birth and could not be changed through surgery. Apparently, Aleesha also wrote to the Women, Family and Community Development Ministry but did not get any response. Due to the stress she suffered, she is now no more.

In one of the reports, it says that Judge Datuk Mohd Yazid admitted that this is a complicated case and he is wary of setting unfavorable or maybe even, sinful precedence. Indeed, people with power in their hands have to be careful of the consequences of certain decree. This is a lost-lost situation where whatever judgment he came up with, will be scandalous. If he granted it, he would likely suffer denunciation and if he didn't, he would condemn a soul of perplexing anxiety her whole life. Well, turned out that very condition took Aleesha away from her turmoil. Now, she serves as an example in this country.

I sympathize with Aleesha and her family yet at the same time wondered what could be the significance of this scenario for isn't there always a divine reasons behind whatever happen in this world? My research brought me here (Press 'CC' for the translation):

Dr Tariq stressed that there are many angles to determining a person's true gender other than the physical attributes. However, I understand in her case, there were no medical report on her physical or psychological condition which could serve as a guide to the judgment. If she had survived the ruling, she will not be able to carry out a normal life as a woman: she cannot marry, she will be denied from entering university and other hassling documentation processes. Or she could carry on her existence as it was, living under the radar and resumes a life as an incognito which clearly wasn't her option.

For some, this is a clear case of a transsexual dying of a heartbreak from being refused to be recognized as a woman. Tongues are already wagging in the more conservative society and words of condemns are heard. For me, I hold to the faith that even with immense guidance, we don't really know what is God's true agenda and who can claim they know? Thus, we shouldn't judge others on their action because it is not our place. Religion is love and that is what we should stress in our treatment towards others.

Care less or Careless?

2011-07-29T01:20:00.000-07:00

So there I was, at Tesco doing my weekly shopping. The market seemed a tad busier than it should be, considering it was a weekday and everybody should be beating their asses at work. While I was looking at the fresh fruits, a guy passed by me, lugging with him a big box of banana. I watched him go to the weighing center, thinking why the heck didn't he get a trolley. So, he put the heavy box of banana on the counter and was met by a questioning look on the staff manning the counter.

"Why didn't you go over the chicken weighing center? This is too big for us to weigh here. Here only for vegetables," said the staff dryly and already looking at the customer behind this guy..

The guy replied, "Oh I know but if I go there, they will tell me that is not the place to weigh fruits, only for chicken and will ask me to come here."

The staff made a clucking sound and said, "Here cannot also, because that is too heavy" and she made that look that says, 'I am done helping you, move on'

I stood there, thinking *tsk *tsk *tsk, very ready to give some uninvited suggestion but the guy persisted, "Can someone here please tell the chicken people that this cannot be weighed here?"

Suddenly a stroke of genuise struck the lady and she gestured to one of her co worker, "Eh, can you please send this guy to the chicken weighing place and have this weighed?"

Hardly before she finishes her sentence she is already working on the next customer's buy, clearly not wanting to 'clutter' her place with the bananas. Her co worker, none more pleased to do the bidding, took the guy anyway, with a very annoyed face. In all this, the poor guy, made to look more like a beggar rather a person who makes Tesco happen in the first place, looked so very relieved that someone is finally attending to him.

I am just fed up with this kind of treatment towards customers. The above is just an example of how bad our customer service is. Why is our customer service assistants in most places equipped with lousy attitude? Isn't there suppose to be a training on customer service etiquette given to the staff? In some places, the customer service assistant (CSA) would bully customers when customers complain about products, saying that it is the customer's fault the product don't work accordingly even when it is obvious. Well, if it was me they said that to, there almost always will be an inspiring exchange of choice words depending which side of the bed I got up that morning. Common people! At the very core of everything, be nice! What's wrong with a little bit of courtesy and moving your butt 5mtrs away from your work station to help the person who indirectly pays your salary? Where have we gone wrong with this? I refuse to admit when told by foreigners that we are lazy. We are not lazy, we care less. That's what it is. This attitude is reflected in the way we handle customer service, in the way we pee in public toilets, why we care less to recycle and why we don't care to bring shopping bags when we buy groceries. Not my mother buying the groceries (CSA), not my toilet (public toilet), supermarkets have plastic bags (shopping bags), who can think beyond that time (recyle) What the heck is wrong with us?

What's wrong with adopting the western method if it better? Whenever I walk into any Starbucks or San Francisco Coffee, they will greet you with a smile and shout "Welcome" like you are a long lost friend. That makes me happy and I feel like I belong for that 5minutes take-away. I am sure I am not the only feeling that way. In some western franchise places, our own local people are so helpful sometimes I feel guilty for asking them to assist me. I am not bias or pro western, I am pro nice. If you come down to my town and eat at Nasi Lemak Lido Klang, you will be greeted by this Kakak who I have never seen without a smile for more than 20years now, come rain or shine. She is efficient, friendly without being overpowering and constant. Maybe someone should appoint her as the Customer Service Facilitator for all shopping complexes in Malaysia.

Well, I am going to do my bit and care more. So next time if you see me having a friendly conversation with a staff, you can be sure I am putting through a care item. Change is the only way to progress and someone has to put the change item through.

How To Recruit The Right Person For The Job

2011-03-14T18:59:00.000-07:00

I don't get jokes sent to my mail simply because I don't forward them so maybe my friends thought I am not interested. Thing is, when you get to a certain age, the level of humor changes. The thought process doesn't tolerate mockery anymore so it requires a somewhat robust content to the joke before it can invoke even a smirk. The best jokes are, brutally and usually, the truth. Occasionally my like minded friends would send me something worth pondering, tickling the mind to a gradual summit of laughter. Here is one I find jokey (as my little daughter put it).

Put about 100 bricks in some Particular order in a closed room with an open window.

Then send 2 or 3 candidates in the room and close the door.

Leave them alone and come back after 6 hours and then analyze the situation.

If they are counting the bricks, put them in the Accounts Department

If they are recounting them, put them in Auditing

If they have messed up the whole place with the bricks put them in Engineering

If they are arranging the bricks in some strange order, put them in Planning

If they are throwing the bricks at each other, put them in Operations

If they are sleeping put them in Security

If they have broken the bricks into pieces put them in Information Technology

If they are sitting idle put them in Human Resources

If they say they have tried different combinations, yet not a brick has been moved put them in Sales

If they have already left for the day put them in Marketing

If they are staring out of the window put them on Strategic Planning

And then last but not least, if they are talking to each other and not a single brick has been moved, congratulate them and put them in Top Management

What happens if one doesn't fall into any of those categories? Because, I would have called my sister telling her what a nonsense interview that was and would have known everyone in the room by their first name by the time the people came back to analyze us. I guess that's why I never made the top management, huh?

Science of Cooking

2011-03-03T01:25:00.000-08:00

For Chi Chi

Apparently, I can cook considerably well. I started cooking when I was 6 years old. My object of culinary experiment were some little guppy fish which I netted out using my mother's tea leaves filter bag from the sizable monsoon drain in front of my house. Three things happened that day.

1. I almost burned the house down because the kerosene stove went out of control.
2. The tiny guppies were burned along with my mother's favorite wok.
3. My hide was raw from the tanning I got from mom.

I should have learned my lesson but I didn't give up. So every time Mom left the house (unfortunately to my devises) the standard parting words were, "don't burn the house down". I know she meant it literally. I wasn't that bad really, I was just too small for my big mind!

So from then on, there was no stopping this budding chef. Whenever Mom had to go out for whatever reasons she had to, I would be ready for some action in the kitchen. We didn't have much in the 70s, just the standard stuff, oil, flour, salt, canned sardines, rice, vegetables. Nobody knows what Cheesdales were. By the time I was 10, I could prepare a decent meal for my family - sans Mom, who was very fussy about her food, it has to go through a rigid ISO9000 standard of hygiene process before she even think of putting her kosher spoon into it.

Butterfly Oven circa 1970

Butterfly Kerosene Stove circa 1970

I made my first bread using Mom's old Butterfly oven when I was 9. It was no easy feat to accomplish since regulating the heat of this oven is very much dictated on how stable the kerosene stove underneath it. I also had to knead the bread with my own bear hands (and then some) but it turned out good, if not a little salty.. hehehe...I was good... or so I thought. When I was married off the first time, one of the biggest surprise I had was that my new husband was very fussy with food and can be brutal when it comes to commenting. One time he came home, tired and hungry and I had served dinner. He didn't say much that time, just dug into dinner and I had to open my big mouth. I said, "How's the food?" Well, I had to right? After all, he was eating with great gusto. He answered nonchalantly, "Yeah, its good." and then he added, ".. but maybe I am just hungry" Well, if only I could make him eat the utensils that day.

After a while, I couldn't stand him chiding my cooking so, I decided to learn to cook from the best cook in the world (according to him), his mother. That woman can make the most simplest ingredients into the most lavish affair. She was so good that she is the envy of her in-laws, a position I wished to attain when I joined her in the kitchen. The flair didn't come to her naturally though. Born into a very privileged family, she didn't have to go into the kitchen, let alone cook. However, things changed when she got married to a man who came from another rich man's household and so used to lavishness. During the war, their families both lost everything and therefore, Mak were reduced to perform house chores herself, something she wasn't accustomed to and that includes cooking. The first meal she cooked for her husband was so bad that he literally turned all the dishes upside down in the serving tray, which angered her so much that the tray landed on his head! I mean after all, she was pregnant with his first child. Have a heart I'd say.. Mother-the-best-cook-in-the-world syndrome seems in the veins of these men and Mak went to study cooking from her mother in law.

What I learned from Mak in the kitchen:

1. Taste the food you're preparing. If it taste like the urine of a horse going up the stairs (aka taste like turd), you can bet it would taste like that to everyone. So do whatever you can to make it taste good to you, first, before serving it.

2. Take time to go through the ingredients, before actually cooking. Nothing is worse than nonchalantly put together food.

3. Less is more.

4. Cook with love - If one is angry, distraught, sad, better don't cook. Something will bound to get wrong.

I graduated with flying colors, so much so that the family preferred my cooking which resulted in me being the 'favorite' cook (code name for slave in the kitchen). Over the years I learned a few more things on my own. Cooking is a science. You have to like food to be able to prepare beautiful compositions. To compose a beautiful dish, you need to know the taste of different ingredients and how it will react with other ingredients especially the main meat or vegetable. What I normally do now before I start cooking with some new ingredients is to get a little taste of it (yes, literally put a little of it in my mouth to see how close it resembles my usual product). This happens especially when I travel to a different country where the original stuff cannot be found and has to be substituted with a local product.

Certain spices looses its strength with heat like black pepper, so it is better to add this ingredient just before the stove is turned off to retain the spicy taste. White pepper on the hand, retains much of its spiciness with heat so it can be added anytime during cooking.

Most seashells, mollusk and squids becomes rubbery when cooked for a long time so it is best to use high heat and cook them fast. Fish on the other hand should be cooked with medium heat and the nicest dish I have tasted uses very little ingredients.

Some beef can be tough. Soften it using a green papaya. Peel off the green skin and just take the whitish yellow flesh right after the skin and blended this fine. Apply this papain rich enzyme to the beef and also the spices this beef is to be cooked with and let sit covered in a warm area for an hour. The result is a tender beef that everybody would love. Most poultry are cooking friendly and very versatile so just get one of those ready made spices and chuck your chicken in there. If you manage to get that wrong.... it is time to pray. Unless you are an expert in the kitchen, NEVER abandon your food - like to watch a little Desperate Housewives in between - because it is a sure way of screwing up your food.

Some of my students with their proud creations

So, Chi Chi, next time you want to cook, don't be afraid. If you cannot get me on the phone, read through the recipe from title to serving method and resist the desire to be daunted. After all, the ingredients are not going to eat you, you will. Good luck my friend..

Good Vs Happy

2011-02-21T06:04:00.000-08:00

Why is being happy doesn’t always equate with being good? For example: I love chocolates and chocolate loves me. This loving relationship is not nurtured as it used to be these days simply because chocolate will ran my diet havoc. So I refrained from taking the anti-oxidant-and-also-unfortunately-calorie-laden-food because taking the spirited comestibles the way I do will definitely make me gain weight, which is not good. However, in the quest of getting some happiness due to my deprivation of sex (it could deprivation of anything but sex is easier to understand), I had to resort to doing something that would make me feel happy enough not to have the urge to indulge promiscuously.

Or, I love to go crazy in the club, dancing on table tops and perhaps dirty dance guys who would go up on the table with me. However, the stigma in my community calls for me to be branded a loose woman or sleazy by doing that. So, for the rest of the night, though my happiest moments would have been dancing like crazy with abandon, I have to be satisfied with doing the ‘pendulum’, rock from side to side and maybe some hand movements but nothing more than just snapping my fingers to the music occasionally. I chose good over being happy because of the possible lasting repercussion.

In both scenarios which I had the unfortunate luck to endure, I wished I had more courage to pursue my happiness. I grew up with a stigma alert built in within me so that I avoid all socially unaccepted decorum due to the fact that it is important to get the acceptance from the community or suffer being an outcast, so much so that some of us, lead a double or triple life. Inaze, my dear long standing friend, even lives his life in compartments. I asked him, “What does that mean? You live out of boxes?” To which he smiled and explained to me.

When he came back after living abroad for 25 years, he was perturbed by the treatment he received from his family and friends. First they were at awe with him, having been living abroad, a worldly man, ultra modern. After that, gradually, they grew envious of him. He came back alone, therefore he pretty much do things as he pleased, goes out with whomever he wished to and indulge in his hobbies at his spare time besides traveling extensively. Next thing he knew, he was in the center of a saucy scandal. Apparently, he married a Thai girl and not to outdo the rumor mongers, he didn’t deny nor did he admit to it. Keeping score with that malicious gossip, he would tell his cousins that ‘my Thai wife’ had gone back to her home town whenever he showed up alone. It took a full 1 year for the cousins to realize that they have actually believed the lies they themselves created. About the time all those things took place, he decided to segregate different types of people in his compartments. His co-workers do not know his family, his family does not know the people he plays music with, or his music buddies does not meet with his travel friends. I was one of those privileged ones to be able to glide across all the compartments simply because he trusts me. I felt very honored the day he said that to me and for that very reason, he is not going to know about this blog (errkkk). So, for Inezi, in the quest of living a happy life and to be seen as someone good, he had to live a compartmental life where all the boxes do not mix with each other. It doesn't seem like an effort for him to keep up to that life, so I guess that is also good for him.

On the other side of the coin, there is my cousin sister who indulged in her playgirl activities even though it was something that is a taboo in our family. Those days when I was still a corporate world's slave, I would drop by her place for a little girl talk every now and then. I sometimes noticed male's clothes hanging among her laundry and she'd say that it belongs to one of her boyfriends. 'How many of them? They don't know you have more than one?' My cousin nonchalantly answered, 'Pandai makan, pandai simpan lah' (A lady would never tell). After that, I didn't see her as much, prejudism playing it's broken tape in my head. At the very least, if any of our mothers were to show up, I was not at the 'crime' scene . It was an attempt to be good and I would go home and thought a lot about the fun she was having and said, if only I had enough courage to want to be that much happy that I put all else second. Every year she would go for her health check up, just to make sure she pass with flying color. That was almost 20 years ago. Today she seems happy with her life, being a good mother to her 6 kids and a loving wife to her husband of 15 years. She's been there and done those things and have no regrets. Nobody other than me knew but I don't think she ever truly cared if anyone else did because she didn't need to be good as she wanted to be happy.

I tried very hard to find a situation where happy and good can be synchronized but inevitably ran into a self debate which reinforces the synchronicity failure of these two emotionalism. For my sake, I will go and throw out the chocolates after this.

A Woman

2011-02-03T21:13:00.000-08:00

A native American proverb says that, “Women are like a hurricane, at first warm wet and wild and in the end they take your house and your car and leave you with nothing."

An African one says, “If men swear that they want to harm you when you are asleep, you can go to sleep. If women say so, stay awake”

And then there is an Arab one that says, “A woman can hide her love for 40 years, but her disgust and anger not for one day”

Hurricane Katrina

Tia Dalma: You know of Davy Jones? A man of the sea, a great sailor. Until he run afoul of that which vexes all men.
Will Turner: What vexes all men?
Tia Dalma: What indeed.
Gibbs: The sea?
Pintel: Sums?
Ragetti: The dichotomy of good and evil?
Jack Sparrow: A woman.
Tia Dalma: A woman. He fell in love.
Gibbs: No, no, I heard it was the sea he fell in love with.
Tia Dalma: Same story, different versions. And all are true. See, it was a woman as changing and harsh and untamable as the sea. Him never stopped loving her. But the pain it caused was to much to live with, but not enough to cause him to die.
Will Turner: What exactly did he put into the chest?
Tia Dalma: Him heart.
Ragetti: Literally or figuratively?
Pintel: He couldn't literally put his heart in a chest. Could he?
Tia Dalma: It was not worth feeling what small, fleeting joy life brings. So him carved out his heart and put it in a chest. The key, it unlocks the chest.....

Well, I cannot imagine if all men were mythical creatures like Davy Jones! Then all men would be up to tentacly mischief but that sums up the inevitable affect women has on men. Other than the quote by Tia Dalma from Pirates of Caribbean, the others were no doubt mouthed by some of the finest minds in those tribes and no doubt, by men. Or worse, men who had suffered the wrong ends of a woman's attention. One guy in particular, employed female names to all the hurricanes from 1953 - 1978 after he went through a nasty divorce - I don't take that as an offense, in fact I think it is inspiring how much force a woman has over that man. (yeah, I 've got the power!). Although, I must say that the native American quote must have been concocted fairly recently - unless of course, they car they were referring to were wagon cars - all these quotes (and a dozen more) that carries the enormity of repercussions should a woman is scorned were said since time started. Yet women are still treated without great care and taken for granted.

“Woman was taken out of man; not out of his head to top him, nor out of his feet to be trampled underfoot; but out of his side to be equal to him, under his arm to be protected, and near his heart to be loved” I don't know who said this but I have a sneaky feeling that it was said by a woman. Who but one would understand this and can say it out so articulately if not one of the same? If all men can understand this and embrace this philosophy, there will be no trouble at all with women. Of course how a man makes a woman his equal, protect or love her varies geographically.

I cannot say much much about other places so let me just talk about my own backyard. Here, in my neck of the woods, we love a man who loves us, who would find us desirable that all other dims, takes care of us emotionally, physically and financially, gives us the freedom, understands when we want their opinion or when we just want to rant, most faithful to us and respects and loves our families. This is just a walk in the park compared to some cultures who requires the man to give up 2 years of annual income to the significant other - before marriage - as a token of devotion. Or that one that requires a man to give up half his company before she signs on the matrimonial dotted line. I kid you not! And when I came up with a bewildered, "Why?!" The casual answer I got was, "Well, if the guy were to abandon the woman, at least she has something from him" Well, methinks if you go into a marriage thinking that something bad was going to happen, I think you are inviting Murphy to impose his law at you! Yeah, yeah... so I am a hopeless romantic, so sue me. Yet again, why would a man be abandoning that woman? To my own sorry confession, I know from experience that most often than not, it is because there is a woman on the other end of that treachery. As Henry Louis Mencken quotes “On one issue, at least, men and women agree: they both distrust women”

In a society that practices polygamy, men generally applies an exit clause to their debauchery by making kosher their extra marital affairs. Of course, not all polygamy stems from men's failure to curb their lust. But those many few, when caught, they simply marry the woman according to the rites and voila, no more sins carried out. No one could dispute his action, not even the first wife who is so wrongly wronged in all levels. After all, polygamy is allowed in Islam. My mother would impulsively slap that person with her 50cents slippers and that would echo my sentiment eloquently! These men, driven by their lust, had twisted the divine rules to their advantage but I know they are not the only active participant in this deceit. Let me just quote the fine prints of polygamy here:

Equitable treatment includes but is not limited to: a) financial support and maintenance; b) housing; c) companionship; d) fair division of time between households. Hence, Islam does allow polygamy but under restrictions or regulations. When polygamy is practiced in Islam, the rights of these women (wives) are established. The relationship is recognized as a marriage in every sense of the word. As we look at the Holy Quran; the Scriptures of Muslims, there is allowance for polygamy as I mentioned but there are stipulations to the practice of polygamy.” If you fear that, you shall not be able to deal justly with the orphans marry women of your choice, two or three or four but if you fear you shall deal unjustly with them, marry only one”. (Quran 4:3). Polygamy is less of a departure from the traditional marriage as we know it, than that of ‘same-sex’ marriage; polygamy involves procreation. In our society there seem to be some ‘narrow’ or rather ‘lapped-sided’ thinking on this issue. We give allowance to any number of partners, as long as it is done one at a time.

That said, ask any man here about polygamy and they would spring to alertness befitting a baby shoestring snake and answers, "A man can marry four wives according to Islam!" Who cares about the fine prints eh? And then there are women who fell madly in love with married men that they are prepared to 'sacrifice' their love to share their husband with the first wife so that they will be rewarded with the proverbial 'golden umbrella' in heaven. Well, one golden umbrella is a golden spike board to another. It is said that women have many lusts but men have only one and due to this I have always maintained that it is up to a woman to don on her chastity belt of morality to stop the probable unjustly treatment to another woman.

In this Aug. 15, 2009 photo, polygamist Mohammad Inaamulillah Bin Ashaari, center, is shown with his four wives, from left, Rohaiza Esa, Ummu Habibah Raihaw , Nurul Azwa Mohd Ani,and Ummu Ammarah Asmis at the “Ikhwan Polygamy Club Family Day” in Rawang, north of Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. Polygamy is legal for Muslims in Malaysia, though not widespread. The Ashaari clan believes it should be. Last month, the sprawling family launched a Polygamy Club that seeks to promote plural marriages for what it says are noble aims, such as helping single mothers, prostitutes and older women find husbands.

Just about a month ago, one younger wife slashed her husband's first wife which ended the latter with 60 stitches on the face. Hell hath no fury indeed! The husband who feigned innocence by saying that he is going through a financial turmoil and was forced to put them together in the same house thus flagging the mutual abhorrence of both women which could have ended in a fatal tragedy. At the time of writing, the second wife is put on trial and facing time while the husband had gone under the radar, probably in the shelter of another woman. In another case, a first wife doused hydrochloric acid on her husband's second wife's face, resulting her in more than 3 reconstructive surgery just to get her to breath properly again. Now, in both cases, if only that second wife just mind her own business and use a dildo instead. Maybe their motto is, no pain no gain. Then again, in both cases, none of the women looked at the husbands as the villain as oppose to society (I mean women) who viewed both men as the demon.

So there, it seems there are way too many imperfections in this object of men's devotion and lust. We are able of many monumentally beneficial stuff which exclusively ours as well as capable of being destructive not to just the other gender but to our own sisters. Women have the power, if they choose to exert it, to protect each other from the wandering male but alas in most cases they don't and become part of and encourage infidelity. There is so much power in a woman, good and bad that even sometimes she herself don't understand it. To quote Eleanor Roosevelt, “Women are like teabags. We don't know our true strength until we are in hot water!"

The Push

2011-02-01T03:04:00.000-08:00

I said I was going to write about this and so I will get it off my chest, once and for all!

Anybody who says that giving birth is easy, I am going to give that silly goose one tight smack on the head because such thing is non existence and only serves to belittle the enormity of this process, especially if the one who said that is someone who hasn't been through a single childbirth, or worse still, if that person is a man. My eloquent mother had 2 explanations as to why a woman could have an easy natural birth. 1- The baby is small; 2. The vagina canal is so big even a truck can make a U-turn. Of course, I unwaveringly settled on the first explanation, naturally. There is nothing standard about the pain and trauma of childbirth, whatever the size of the baby. No such thing as being macho about it. Nothing like your worst constipation ( I have had those too). Those who think they could go in with somber dignity, always come out whimpering meeks. For me, the pain is real even today.

My first birth was at a very young age, 18. At the time, I felt invincible both physically and emotionally. There was adventure and wonderment in everything. After all, I was still a baby myself although there was nothing infant about the explosive and non exhaustive sex. When I got pregnant, I felt my life as a woman is complete and I couldn't wait to have the baby in my arms. Every fetal movement and twitch made me proud and when I cannot sleep at night as a result of the heavy marathon action inside the tummy, I would still wake up feeling gungho because I had the advantage of youth.

We were at the time in Malacca, that historical state. So there can't be a more appropriate place to give birth, a historical moment in a historical town. When I moved there, I was already 5 months gone and went for prenatal at the first clinic we saw. The day the doctor decided I should give birth, I didn't have any contraction. In hindsight, I think Dr Mahendran didn't want to loose me as a patient as I have told him I wanted to give birth at my parent's. Around 11.30pm, he broke my water-bag and inserted some inducing pills. Then I was asked to go to sleep and that's when I started getting cramps. You see, in a natural process, the water-bag will only break when the baby has matured or if there is trauma and the pain would normally come very gradually. This is not the case if one is being induced of childbirth.. pain comes very very intensely and just a few minutes apart even when the vagina is not dilated. Thanks to my ignorance, that was what I had to go through.

The initial pain felt like the discomforts I get during my menstrual and I tried to brush it off and got to sleep but the pain just steadily got intense. In less than 30 minutes after my water-bag boke, I was having severe cramps in my lower back, my lower abdomen and upper groin area and the contraction was 3 minutes apart. However, I was not dilated as it should be in proportion to the pain. As the pain came, I could feel my pelvis opening up and it is not unlike the feeling of being forced to do a split and all the muscles in the inner thighs screamed murder from the sheer force of being pried open. The intensity of the contraction builds up slowly and as it comes to the peak, it was like someone kept pushing the split to it's painful maximum and no matter what the abuse would not stop. As gradually as it came, the agony would subside and there would be respite for the next 2 minutes. In it's wake, the pain left aches in the lower back and abdomen and on the upper groin.

It is in my traditional custom to get 'healing water' from faith healers/shaman/witch doctor which is believed to be able to alleviate the birth pain and speed up the birthing process. This is usually water which has been blessed by one of them or all of them. I mean, why take the chance right? Does it work? Not unless I could reverse time with the magic water in which case, I would probably go and get a surrogate mother instead of going through the torture myself.

So by morning, there were 3 mineral water bottles lined up. Talk about being subjected to blotting... Every time there was pain, I was urged to take a sip and some was splashed on the face by my husband. Didn't take me long - even when I was very naive - to figure out that the water's not going to release me from this hell so that the next time he tried to make me drink it, I glared at him with a murderous look. During the night, the nurse came in and gave me pain killers and THAT helped a bit. The drug made me drowsy, like in a drunken state and it felt like I was having a painful nightmare, there was pain but it didn't feel real that time. However, when the pain killer started to wear off, I felt the pain slowly grew intense as morning approached. By about 11.30am I was steadily mouthing all the profanities (mostly about the act that got me in that position itself and towards my husband) I could think of every 1 minutes of the contraction. Dr Mahendran came in then and he announced, 'she is 10cm.'

He came to me and put his hand on my head and said gently, 'Girl, I need you to push now, ok? Can you do that?' I just look at him and nodded. Actually, what I wanted to say was, 'Are you kidding me?' He positioned himself at my legs again and the nurse raised the head of the bed a little so that I was in a seating position and she took both my hands and made me hold the back of each of my thighs to give me the leverage for pushing. At this point, I have lost all shame. All of them were looking at my penini like it was a study specimen. I bewilderingly looked around for my 'partner--in-crime' just to be told that he apparently couldn't stay upright from the trauma of looking at my then grotesque penini.

'Push girl, push...' coaxed Dr Mahendra. I gave what I thought was a mighty push, like blowing a ballon and the midwife said to me, 'Not like that, push like you are trying to go to toilet, pushing your bowel!' Well, why didn't you say so? I could have switch the dial to 'take-a-shit' instead of 'blow-a-ballon'. The contraction was getting to be so intense I felt I was being ripped apart in 100 different directions. I couldn't feel my lower abdomen anymore, it was like a mass of aches and it radiates fierce burning and throbbing pain to all over my body. Then suddenly I couldn't inhale and I just felt the urge to push! So I gave it a take-a-shit push and something came out. The midwife grunted and quickly wipe something off down there, while the doctor stepped away for a moment. I happened to look at her face and she wasn't too happy. Apparently, I DID take a shit. Didn't have time to feel embarrassed because then, I couldn't take a breath again and again I heard Dr Mahendran said, 'Push girl, now' to which I did and the baby started coming out. This is when I created the mantra which I used for the next 3 birthing process, 'Just push Ina, one more time and it will all be over soon!'. Over and over I kept chanting this mantra in my mind.

If you think the head is the hardest part, wait till it comes to the shoulders. When the doctor announced that the head was out, I thought my job was done but instead of relief, the pain sustained and somehow felt like it was coming to a summit. This is when the baby is halfway out. Getting the shoulders out the right way would ensure that the mother will not tear so badly. In fact, in home birth, the midwive would ensure that the mother does not move her buttock around too much at this stage as it would cause the vagina to tear as it is stretched to the thinnest. Similarly, a good gynea would do all he can to not tear the patient. So Dr Mahendran said, 'Slowly, slowly, now push a little bit more, now stop! Okay...push again, small push...etc etc' I only obeyed the first 3 push instructions and after that I thought, 'what the heck, I WANT THIS TO BE OVER!' to which I heaved a big breath and gave it my all, pushed the baby out till it's leg and be done with it! I could see the doctor clamoring to stop the baby's mighty advance out and he then looked at me, I think with a little bit of disgust. I couldn't care less. My job is done! After he clipped and cut the umbilical cord, the placenta came out like a blob and quite easily too. In the end, the doctor had to give me stitches that made my penini looked like a broken homemade stuffed doll. My first born, a boy was a healthy 3.82kg baby and beautiful as the sunshine. Yes, really, he was so beautiful he almost got abducted in the clinic. Talk about drama!

Anyway, I didn't want to have anymore, or so I thought. Less than 3 years after that, I gave birth to another and another until I have 4 of them birthing agony givers. They all come into the world giving me that same familiar pain, although they seem to vary significantly on the length of contractions, the next one somehow shorter than the last one. My last girl only gave me 2 hours of pain which is peanuts, as oppose to my first one, 12 hours of agony.

Maybe there is such thing as painless natural birth although, if you ask me, that is a row of smelly wet bullplop!

T- Sex - The Act of Sensual Tantra

2011-01-26T14:23:00.000-08:00

First time I heard that phrase, I thought it was a subjargon of the popular Karmasutra. Well, that it is but it sounded a little mathematical and not appealing. Well, at least not to me. So, my preliminary thoughts about this act of sex is that it may involved some mathematical equation before intercourse can commence. Perhaps calculate how far from the bed one has to start foreplay and then as one approaches the act itself, calculate the right momentum before penetration. Adehh... how boring. Isn't sex supposed to be spontaneous? Maybe this one act of sex is reserved only for highly intellectual people who are devoid of the raw animale passion that mortals less clever like moir can adapt within seconds of being stimulated. That was my preliminary thought.

Of course these days, with Google search, nothing can stay a mystery for a long time. I find the best read is from AskMen.com. Otherwise, there are so many explanations to the act but none hit the button like the following, me think. By the way, the definition came from a gay site. Tantric Sex: the act of having sex in long sessions which can last for hours, getting very close to orgasm but not reaching it. Adeh... I have a name for that... it is called teasing! My little wheel started to turn again and I imagine a mule being dangled with a carrot so it would move forward.

The donkey would walk and walk, every time imagining how appetizingly sexy that carrot is and what it would do once it could get hold of that food. Maybe, smell it first to tease his palate and think of whether to start with the tail end or the leaf end. Then slowly lick it and then perhaps, give it a little bite, not all the way, just a small indentation and maybe spill a drop of the carrot's sweet juice so as to savor the vegetable a little longer because if/when it enters the set of eager bicuspids, it would be history in a matter of seconds. Then after all that teasing, the donkey finally hold out its tongue and pull the carrot into it's mouth and even while it chomps on the carrot, tells itself, 'this is the best carrot I have ever eaten in my life'. Well, NOT! Donkey, you've just surpressed yourself to the hilt that any carrot would do that for you! Tantric Sex...

Well, at least I think, by principle is it correct. Tantric Sex gives so much emphasis in achieving orgasm, as oppose to the orgasm itself - like say - not the destination but the journey or maybe in gynecological term, the act of giving birth, not the birth itself... (I will have another blog on that BS - push, don't push.. wait, or you will tear... now push a little... man.. when a woman has the urge to push, she will as hell push even it means she will tear in 10 different directions!) Anyway, back to T-Sex (rhymes with T-Rex) it also says that: Familiarity with Tantra can help a person enjoy their sex life to its fullest potential. It can help do away with guilt or fear, and Tantra can break down self-imposed or limiting cultural boundaries (as is the case in most Western societies). It teaches us to become familiar with our mystical nature, and when we do so, our boundaries (sexual and otherwise) expand. We enter into new realms of awareness, become empowered and are more fulfilled. In addition, the orgasms experienced in this state of consciousness are incredible, explosive and potentially unending. To that my imagination went to Ratatouille's explosion of mind when he tasted that grape and cheese together. Maybe this feeling is equivalent to that of the rodent's climactic satisfaction of taste.

Ahhh.. humans.. in the quest of not being bored! What else would they think next? Maybe the art of inhaling food without actually eating it. I bet that would be the answer to the world's weight problem. Or maybe the advance art of eye feasting, so that people would be suppressed of their desire to shop and own things (or everything). Well, they still buy stuff but only the ones they have a climactic connection with - to apply a little bit of the Tantric principles there.

Me, I am happy with my Tantricless life. Not that I care less (or careless) but perhaps also, maybe because without my own consciousness, Tantra is already a way of life... :P

Astro Guide

2011-01-07T02:11:00.000-08:00

"A tiny little thing has set you off. You know you're being totally unreasonable, but at the moment, you don't care. Put things in perspective. Think about waking up alone. Permanently."

This is what my astrology reading says today. Actually, something did happen but I wouldn't call it tiny, in fact it is monumentally gargantuan that perhaps I am a bit surprised I haven't fainted yet. However, I am not going into details of that, rather I am more amused with the subject of astrology.

Sometimes, when all else seems hopeless, the defense mechanism in me would try to find all avenues to get a relief and one of my favorite places to go and find this respite is by reading all the horoscope report I can find. It is amusing to read some of the more unconventional readings. Like one says:

You are a pain in the ass. You regulate your breathing and color-coordinate the clothes in your closet. You commit a lot of drive-by shootings. When you are questioned, you tell the police that it was because "the bastard had a filthy car". Hell for you is being locked up in an elevator for eternity with a naked Aquarius. That is because in hell, Aquarians are allowed to bring beer, which they leave all over the floor. Virgos, however, have to surrender their brooms and squeegees to God. Virgos also have a hard time coping when they find out there's something under the fridge. But it's usually just a depressed Taurus. Virgos have read enough Hints from Heloise to know that the depressed Taurus can be coaxed out from under the fridge with a banana wine cooler. Virgos don't see the world in shades of black and white. They see it in shades of clean and dirty. Cat hair makes Virgos foam at the mouth. Virgos are cool because they will do your laundry for you. They'll separate everything by color and fabric until it consists of fourteen loads of three things apiece. Then they will put them in the washer in alphabetical order by name of manufacturer. Virgos are often found opening and shutting the refrigerator door, attempting to trick the light inside. Don't put cheese where it doesn't belong in a Virgo's refrigerator. He or she will go Jack Torrence on your ass. You will be stabbed with a cuticle pusher. Jack Torrence was probably a Virgo in the first half of "The Shining". After that, he went all Leo.

How can anyone not be amused by that? In my defense however, if I am locked up with a naked male Aquarius, I could find various recreational activities which could be carried out including moan for eternity!

Well, anyway, despite their notoriety, I still look out for all the different sites that offers astrological readings. Since there are too many astrological sites out there, it is easy to get one prediction which I can agree upon, sometimes a reading that has nothing to do with my zodiac at all!

The year 2011 will bring you immense wealth and love. From the starting of the 2nd Lunar moon of the year you will be experiencing great romance and a healthy dose of sexual activities. It would be wise to throw all caution in the air as inhibitions will impede on the excitement in store. There will be many journeys oversea to be made and on the 7th Lunar moon, you will have a surprise call from a royalty conferring you with a noble title and you will inherit a large amount of treasures from a long lost relative . However, if you are not Virgo, please scroll down lower for your own astrological report!

The Meet

2011-01-07T01:14:00.000-08:00

He was arriving on that late October and there she was a nervous wreck, waiting for him, not knowing what to expect. She doesn’t really know how he really looked like because the picture he sent her was of him at least 10 years younger. Even when they were on video cam chat, his images were not clear, lighting problems; her screwed up vision or just simply not interested to look because the conversations were more interesting. She remember looking at every men coming out of the arrival hall, scanning them one by one as they exited the arrival lounge. "Oh, that cannot be him, that guy is too short," she agitates and to another, "oh God, please don't let THAT be him!" It was excruciating just going through the people, the knot in her stomach were becoming tighter, heart palpitated faster, palms sweating at the anticipation. It appeared at the time that the flight was a little delayed so, she decided to go for a snack, to soothe her nervousness as she had ran out of water to pass.

When she looked at the arrival board the next time, it showed that the plane had FINALLY landed and just then, he texted her, "just landed, going through immigration now". She could feel her heart beating faster and faster. “Would he like me?” she agonized. She paced the arrival hall entrance again, anxiously trying NOT to miss him. Suddenly, it was as if their gazes had a homing device, both of them instinctively locked gaze as he swaggered out of that hall. That very moment, he smiled at her as she waved back at him. He smiled so broadly and under her breath she thanked the heavens above and said, 'thank you for making that him and not someone else err.. less lookish!'

They walked towards each other, that few moments of awkwardness and she held her hand out. He melted all her anxiety as he took her hand and hugged her warmly and kissed her on her left cheek. From then on, everything seemed so spontaneous. It was as if they have been together all these years and this meeting was just another one of those trips that he came back from. He took her hand in his as they walk together towards the parking level. Maybe, he too said the same small prayer she did when she saw him the first time. He stood v at 5'10", lighter colored than her, a distinguish look about him. She had already known that he is a man of caliber, articulate and gentle.

While they were walking, he squeezed her hand and said, "So, do I get a 100% approval from you, because you do". She just smiled bashfully at him and lowered her gaze which in itself relayed her thousand approval of him. This is a new thing for her - to feel so coy in the presence of a man. "This must be how it feels to be in love." she pondered blissfully as they walk to their car to start a journey into their lives together.

All I Want For Christmas

2010-12-28T18:25:00.000-08:00

There is a saying that goes, "You can't choose your relatives". Well, I beg to differ.

For 3 years now, I have been going to Malacca to celebrate Christmas with my 'relatives' Kevin, Kenny and their family. They are not related to us by blood but our relationship seems to run way way thicker than that. It started 3 years ago when Sis and I were bored with the same old exercise of sitting in front of the TV during the festival, flipping channels while eating our favorite potato chips way into new year and eventually feel like we are turning into the couch we sat in. So, just before the date, we made plans to go somewhere. Malacca was the best and practical choice as it is only 2 hours away from us and we love the shopping there, besides the other touristic attraction which cheers at the background, not that we were trigger crazy about visiting them every year, I mean, after all its the same old red building...... However, there were new attractions like the night boat ride and some new restaurants which begged us to go sample them.

The Elves watching TV

At the time, Sis was making once a fortnightly business trip there and on one of the trips she found the Lisbon Hotel, which is situated at the Portuguese Settlement. The rates were insanely cheap, RM89 per night for a regular room and as it goes with insane stuff, sometimes it doesn't last. I am unhappily reporting that the rate has now increased to RM200/night for the same measly regular room and they have changed the name to Permaisuri De Lisbon Hotel, hopefully a better management team than the last two.

Lisbon Hotel from the jetty

Anyway, we booked 2 rooms and made arrangement with kids, seeing that some of them might have their own holiday plans. Turned out, most wanted to come including Mei Mei and so, off we went to Malacca on the eve of the celebration. That was the start of a most wonderful celebration!

When we arrived, we didn't have any plans and was ready to wing it. After settling in, we sat at the beautiful balcony, watching the murky sea and try to think of a blue watered beach. The truth is, Ujong Pasir where the settlement is located is a fisherman's jetty and it's silted beach would not even attract the locals to bath there. In the evening we could see a few fishermen walking chest deep in the water, with the implement used to catch tiny prawns which then would be turned into prawn paste (belacan) or fermented prawns (cincalok) a Malaccan delicacy.

Very soon, it became dark and the ordinary looking settlement turned into the village of lights! There was a fairy like element into the place and I half expected Santa's elves to jump out of the lighted houses to wish me a very merry Christmas. Instead, I came to meet with the most friendly people with their open hearts and generosity, undaunted by the streams of strangers gawking at their houses. There were only 2 rows of houses and a square where a big electrical Xmas tree is situated. By 9pm, visitors from God-knows-where were flooding the streets. Some of the locals had set up small stalls by the road side, selling Christmassy stuff - I even saw one selling left over Halloween head dress. I guess that one thought he could take advantage of the confusion on the streets for indeed the streets were unmanned and cars were going haywire. I mean, would you drive on a boulevard where thousands of people including kids were walking? No sense whatsoever, I will tell you that....

Zahirah & Zarif with some of the lights

There was nothing going on the square that night except for the decorated houses, so the entourage and me decided to chill in our rooms and watch the sea and enjoy the salty breeze from the sea at our beautiful hotel balcony. Unknown to us, some of the local lads had seen Mei Mei and realizing she is staying in Lisbon, came by with their guitar and started serenading her under the balcony. I thought that was cute and by the next day, what started with singing under the balcony turned into friendship and we were invited to Kevin's house for Christmas lunch.

Lisbon Hotel Balcony. Mei Mei was serenaded from the canon square.

Although we were delighted, Sis and I were a bit hesitant as we did not want to impose on them but Kevin assured us that it is a normal practice for them to host lunches and dinners as they get visitors from all over the world. That and his insistent that we honor is invitation, made us submit to the request.

I didn't want to go empty hand so just before dinner, we hopped on to town and brought some tasty sweeties as gifts. When we arrived at Kevin's,we were treated with some of the finest Portuguese cuisine like devil curry, Portuguese steam fish and otak-otak. After lunch, Kevin and his buddy Mike had a jamming session and before long, we were singing the night away. The rest is history.

This year, we arrived at the Settlement on Christmas day and saw marquees being set up at the square. The PM was going to be in the square the next day for the One Malaysia celebration which would start from 5pm onwards. Kevin begged with us to stay on until Sunday but we had other prior engagement which was actually my aversion to huge crowds as it is estimated that 10k people would be around for the event.

I am just happy that we managed to make this trip despite the initial conniption of not being able to secure an accommodation, to congratulate Sam for becoming a conformant, to sing and dance with Jennifer again, to meet with Mike who is recovering from health problems and most of all Kevin and Kenny, our treasured 'relatives' in Malacca.

Brudel / Bludal

2010-12-22T05:35:00.000-08:00

Brudel from Jakarta

The above pic was taken from Lin's FB. I have always wanted to learn how to make this cholesterol laden cake. A short search on the net resulted in the recipe below which I converted from Indonesian language to English.

Brudel Manado
by Jane Sipasulta

Ingredients
1100 ml flour 5 1/2 glasses (1 glass is equivalent to 200ml)
5 eggs
250grm butter
300ml sugar
200ml milk powder
1 sachet of Fermipan dry yeast (5ml)
400ml coconut milk
shredded cheese/raisins/choc chips (choose one or put em all)

Method
   1. Mix all dry ingredient well
   2. Add eggs and mix well
   3. Pour the coconut milk little by little while stirring it. Put the butter in and mix well.
   4. Pour in the baking pan which has been well greased.
   5. Leave it for approx 30 minutes until batter had risen
   6. Sprinkle choice of cheese/choc chips or raisins
   7. Bake at 170degrees C
   8. Once cooked, melt some butter glaze the cake with it or you can use sugar glaze.

Gonna try this tomorrow to eat on Xmas day, which reminds me:

To my dearest friend, near and far, a very Merry Xmas to you all. Lotsa love to you all...!!

7 December 2010

2010-12-21T23:06:00.000-08:00

Gayu is a pretty lanky girl of around 25, a successful professional and based in Singapore. 5 years ago, she found a lump under her armpit. Her very worried parents took her to a top hospital in Singapore and within days after diagnosed with benign lumps under both armpits, she was scheduled for an operation to remove it. Surgery went smoothly but after about a month, Gayu noticed that the wound had become somewhat infected and abcessed. She went back to the hospital and a dressing was done and she was given antibiotics. However, after she had downed all her antibiotics, the problems re occur and her chagrined parents took her again to the hospital where they were being told that she has hyper cell growth which causes the problem to recur. The solution was to have another surgery and at the time, Gayu couldn't stand with the pain that she opted not to go through again. So for 5 years, she'd wear a bandage under both armpits due to the puss that keeps oozing out from the wound.

Early this year, her brother-in-law told her about Pusat Rawatan Kontemporari (Pusat Rawatan Herbapati Warisan) and said that she should give it a try. She got the first appointment on Tuesday and came back for the operation the next week. The procedure was done smoothly and there was minimal pain. Barely 10 minutes after the surgery, she came walking out quite normally and the parents couldn't be more thankful.

After the dressing the next day, Gayu and her grateful parents made their way back to Singapore. Last I heard, she is recuperating so well, she don't need to be wearing the perpetual bandage anymore. She is happy and now she has more freedom of movement.

Alhamdullillah...

My Cup Of Love

2010-12-19T18:16:00.000-08:00

Anyone who believes (in God and the Last Day of Judgment) should not harm his neighbor, should entertain his guest generously and should say what is good or keep quiet - Sahih Al-Bukhari 8:73:47.

The above is the quote I have by the side of my postings which is an excerpt of the Sahih Al-Bukhari, a collection of hadith chronicling the teachings of the Prophet Muhammad . It's one of my favorites and I happen to agree with what Mr Bukhari recorded. Although Jaani always warn me about the authenticity of hadiths due to the fact that it was compiled approximately 200 years after the Prophet Muhammad , I don't see any threat in following something so beautiful and logic.

At best, I am what you call a liberal Muslim. I stay true to it and reinforce my faith towards my religion by performing it's obligatory rituals. Hey, if you love somebody or something, you would do something even without being asked, right? That is what it boils down to, LOVE and that was the core lessons that all my teachers taught me.

Through out my life, I have had teachers who were outstanding in their religious vocation but also a little superficially screwed up. One very fond character had to have 2 bottles of the stout before he could teach. The other swore and cursed all the time. People wondered why I chose them to study the finer expects of the religion. Well, I think if they can bear their inners for all the world and me to see, there ain't nothing hypocritical about them and you can also be sure of their sincerity. Of course, most of them are also dead by now, preferring not to live beyond the Prophet's lifetime because they fear that they would sin more than they can chew. My conspiracy theory mind deduced that they probably have a secret pack with the Divine One to depart promptly so that they can enjoy some rest after trying so hard to knock some providential senses into my thick skull. Unlike other students, my curiosity never fails to kill the cat and before long I was a mass murderer! So, peace be upon my Gurus...

Whenever I talk to non Muslims about Islam, most non Muslim had their wand of skepticism at the ready. I mean, I cannot blame them. The media had done a fantastic job in promoting Islam as the religion of the terrorists. Most people won't even think beyond the second page of a newspaper let alone beyond plausible deniability. Too much thinking, too much research (although google is always conveniently at hand) and the head might explode into enlightment. Nobody wants that.. the truth is scary!

So I introduce the 'friendlier' Islam in small doses, least I would cause everyone perpetual shock. One time, I was invited to Sabrina's, my lovely Chinese neighbor. It was a small gathering and a few of the other ladies were also there. Obviously, no ladies gathering would be complete without food and before long we were invited to the meal. Sabrina, being the gracious host, asked me if I would like a paper cup and disposable plastic utensils. I looked at her, a little dumbfounded and said, "There are plenty of it here, why do you need to get plastic ones for me?" She looked at me, a bit confused and said, "Well, we always serve our Muslim guests with different utensils than what we normally use because we consume non halal food." I smiled at her and said, "These utensils are good enough, don't trouble yourself. Islam is friendly and how can I show that to you if I demand a special treatment in the name of my religion, thus imposing my host?" And with that, I dove in the food using whatever cutlery there was. I would like to say that from then on, my neighbors who has over time, been more like family to me, have changed their perception of Muslims considerably. They come to me with eagerness and curiosity about the faith and I answered as truthfully as I can, to make them understand. I always stress the same value which my teachers have taught me, LOVE.

Having said allllllllll the above, I do have some lingering questions concerning alcohol, pork and inter-marriages between the people of the books - muslims, jews and christians. Jaani who loves his scotch stands by his words that alcohol and not encouraged and pork is prohibited (haram). His rationale is, "Why won't God say that alcohol is haram when He doesn't have a problem saying so for pork?" Well, the following surah enlightened me:

"They ask Thee concerning Wine and Gambling, Say: In them is great sin, and some profit, for men; but the sin is greater than the profit." (Surah Al-Baqarah:219)

"O Ye who believe! Intoxicants and Gambling, Sacrificing to Stones, and (divination by) Arrows, are an *abomination, of Satan's handiwork; Keep away from such, that Ye may prosper." (Surah Al-Maaidah: 90)
*outrage, disgrace, scandal, eyesore, atrocity, horror

“O Believers’ do not approach *Salâh while intoxicated.” (Surah Nisaa)
*prayers

The above verse dose not prohibit alcohol outright, but nevertheless presents a ‘Mashwarah’ (advice) for abstaining from the usage of alcohol. This is why some of the Sahâbâh , after hearing this verse immediately stopped consuming alcohol and accepted this mashwarah.

Concerning pork:

"He has only forbidden you what dies of itself, and blood, and flesh of swine, and that over which any other (name) than (that of) Allah has been invoked; but whoever is driven to necessity, not desiring, nor exceeding the limit, no sin shall be upon him; surely Allah is Forgiving, Merciful." (Surah Al-Baqarah)

The above surah clearly states that swines are forbidden (haram) and that alcohol is not encouraged. However, sometimes it is easier to give a clear cut black/white so that there would be no grey areas especially if you are teaching small children the fundamentals. Alcohol, haram or not? Yes. Pork haram or not? Yes. However, there again are exceptions, If a Muslim is threatened with a possible death by hunger and when there is absolutely nothing else to eat, he or she can consume pork, not up-to-the-gills-style but just enough sustain life. As for marriages, the following clearly states:

"This day [all] good foods have been made lawful, and the food of those who were given the Scripture is lawful for you and your food is lawful for them. And [lawful in marriage are] chaste women from among the believers and chaste women from among those who were given the Scripture before you, when you have given them their due compensation, desiring chastity, not unlawful sexual intercourse or taking [secret] lovers. And whoever denies the faith - his work has become worthless, and he, in the Hereafter, will be among the losers." (Surah Al-Ma'idah 5:5)

This surah stated that a Muslim man can marry a Christian or a Jewish woman but there are more fine prints here. I have found an interesting read at the following link http://www.bismikaallahuma.org/archives/2005/marriage-with-the-people-of-the-book/ . Among others it says that, "In spite of the practise of the Sahabah (apostles), and the Tabi’un, Abdullah bin Umar(R) was of the opinion that one should not marry a Jewish or a Christian woman. He used to say: “Allah has forbidden to marry polytheists, and I do not understand anything other than greater polytheism when a woman says that her Lord is Isa(P) who is a servant from the servants of Allah.”

Sometime ago, I asked Abah if marriages between the people of the books is allowed and he said, "Nope" and he tightened his lips and took a Red-Indian stance, standing solemnly looking at me, daring me to ask more. "Okay," I thought, "this is one question I need to go research myself. He probably had a bad day that time...All these rules of religion, to sin or not to sin.... no wonder my Guru all went bonkers.. chuckle!

Bottom line (oh yeah.. we are getting there) I believe in a friendly Islam, an Islam that projects the sentiment of love and kindness, where God is all merciful and does not brutally punish His subjects like temperamental Zeus does. I mean after all, we were taught that there are different levels of sinning and we are all guilty for it at any moment of time and if so we could have been the receiver of the other end of the divine whiplash constantly. As said in this surah:

"So today no soul will be wronged in the least. Nor will you be rewarded except for the deeds you used to do." (Surah Fussilat:54)

Home Is Where The Heart Is

2010-12-19T06:51:00.000-08:00

I have never lived abroad although I have toyed with the idea a few times and were presented with the opportunities. When I was in my 20s, I worked with Gianni Versache's haute-couture team in KL and they invited me to Italy to work with them. Then somewhere in the 80s, I was offered to work in Australia but I turned that down too.

Fitting Lexie's costume and a breather with Patrick, the tallest guy that season

Circa 1980s in my 20s. Gianni Versache Haute-Couture

In 1999, I had the opportunity to live in Khartoum, Sudan. I stayed for 3 months and then became homesick. While I was there however, I gallivented the far reached of Khartoum, to the wet markets, the slums area and the arid parks to the amazements of some locals. The wild life were axcellent. During the migration periods, birds come in thousands and when they take to the sky, the days literally became cloudy with the sheer numbers they were. But after a while, the call of my birth place tugged at my heart and my decisions were unbending, to go back to this country.

In the middle of the Khartoum market, shocking the locals.

I am just too much a Malaysian to live anywhere else. Not being fervid or anything but I cannot simply find another place like it, wart and all. While all my friends jumped at the idea of migrating to Australia, US or the UK (3 most favorite places to migrate), I am happy to be staying back to supply them with the latest news on this country. And when the same friends refer to the country they migrated to as "my country", I chuckle acidly. How can they forget their birth place so fast? Having said that, I also understand that not everybody shares my sentiment. My father always said to me, 'wherever you can make money, there is your home'. Well, he should know, his whole family were almost nomads due to circumstances.

So this year, when Jaani talked about me migrating to the US, I had to swallow my nervous saliva many times for how can I explain that I am not too excited about the idea? For some reasons and for as long as I can remember, I have never been inclined to travel to either Europe or the US. Why should I? I have seen enough of it on TV and I have read books, magazines and novels on these countries. My favorite authors are from either UK or America. When I related this offer to friends, some of them literally knocked my head for being so ignorant and a shtupid when I said I am not inclined to oblige that offer. That made me think... maybe I should just go and visit before I decide I really don't want to relocate. At the time of writing, the decision is still wavering.

Posing with the Borobudur in the background

Someone asked me the other day, if I ever did migrate at all, where would I go? I thought and thought about it and then I said, "Indonesia, Jogja" It was almost automatic. Why? Well, the place reminds me so much of my late mom. The language, the culture, the food, even the temperament of the people. I felt so much at home.

When I think about it, the western countries are not so bad for migration. Imagine having to migrate to places like Iraq, Afghanistan or Lebanon and being presented with heart thumping incidents daily. Life as I know it would be a distant longing and frankly I don't think I can cushion too much shock on my already springy mental shock absorber. So when Jaani speaks endearingly about Pakistan, I struggled to comprehend his fondness because after all, he left the country many decades ago. As far as Pakistan is concern, my perception is that it's a country where prejudism is ripe, where Benazir Butto was assassinated senselessly, where suicide bombing kills innocent people and where honor killing still happens albeit in the most remote part where law seemingly couldn't reach its judiciary hands on those who committed it. In fact, one of Jaani's nephew were a victim of a bombing in a mosque last year and he still hasn't really recovered from the tragedy.

Contrary to what I know about Pakistan, apparently in its heyday, this country was a pleasant place to stay, peaceful, metropolitan unlike what it is today, so constricted by religious doctrines. Recounting the heyday of Pakistan, the yester years of pleasantness, Jaani narrated the following:

Karachi with tram in picture circa 1930s

http://ebhagnaris.blogspot.com/2009/06/gobind-kataria-recalls-memories-from.html

Growing up as I did, in the city known as the Pearl Of the East, I found that life wasn’t easy if you were not born in an influential family or better yet a rich one. My father a devout Muslim and a scholar of extraordinary devotion to his educational goals, was well placed as a high ranking govt. official. Yet because he would not submit to the prevailing corruption in the land, he ended dying poor. I was the only child, being the 5th one down , who questioned his thought process. I guess he mellowed in his older years. If any of my older siblings had dared to do that their second name would have been pulp.

One of our constant disagreement would be about having a job or working for oneself in a business.
I guess I was a born an entrepreneur, even at the young age I was always thinking about things that
would make me money. The more money I had the more things I could get besides the .25 rupee coin
my mother would give me for my daily allowance wouldn’t even buy me a coke let alone a snack for the morning break.

Lyari Market, Karachi

http://qualityjunkyard.com/2009/03/23/old-karachi/

In those days there used to be a tram that would run from a nearby street to my school. Along the way was the vegetable and fruit wholesale market. Since anybody could go and buy, a friend and I saved our .25 for a week and we had 3 rupees between us. We went to the auction and bid three bucks and bought a boxful of mangoes which we promptly brought out to the street and auctioned it of for 6 bucks within minutes.(later we found that by selling them unboxed individually or like a dozen apiece we could make 12 rs) That was easy. Now we had seed money but because we would get late to school we decided to do this only twice a week so nobody would notice. Alas didn’t last long because someone snitched on us!

Kuala Lumpur skyline.

I can relate to that fondness, especially when it is from the memory of our childhood where everything is seen with the wonderment of a child and the curiosity of the undented, even if I have a dim view of the shortcomings of Pakistan. After all I am still here in the country I was born, bred and bred and I am sure my migrated friends do not share my nationalistic sentiments for this sometimes confusing country. Of course, who knows, maybe I could be coaxed to move my freakin stubborn ass for something so colossal - ohhh.. like maybe ♥ LOVE ♥ , that just like dancing, I could let myself spin over and over with ♥ LOVE ♥ as the focal point making it bearable to absorb the uncomfortable neausating affect of having to move abroad . Parhaps an exchange of ♥LOVE ♥ will not pose a devastating affect on this hardcore Malaysian.. I will hold that thought for the moment as for now, I am staying put here, Malaysia truly asia!

As Good As It Comes

2010-12-14T04:56:00.000-08:00

The couple seated a table away from mine at that restaurant caught my attention. They must have been in their 70s, no doubt celebrated their golden anniversary together judging from the grandchild who accompanied them. There was something tender in the way he was holding her hand, so much kindness in their hushed conversation - an amazing thing in itself since some people in their 70s would be a little impaired in the hearing department. One thing for sure, there was a lot of love in the way she smile at his remarks and the way he fix his gaze at her everytime she was telling him something. I continued to stare at them for a while, trying not to look so obvious. There was a time, during my innocence that I thought all marriages would last to be like that. Growing old together and still so much in love even when there are no physical relationships anymore. However, who's to say that they could have met in their 40s after a few divorces between them or this could be only their 10th year together. On the other side of the coin, they could have met in their youth, stuck it out against all odds and now sitting here, enjoying their friendship and companionship which are the most essential things for people that age but what are the odds of that these days? How many marriages lasts so long? Why relationship don't last like they use to?

From my observation, most of the time, there is more to a relationship that what meets the eye. For example, a neighbor was way into their 60s when they decided to part ways, to the chagrin of the whole village community. Aunt Yon and Uncle Zacaria had 6 children between them and they were the least couple who would draw any attention to themselves.So one morning when Uncle Zacaria met with the village religious counsel to announce his intention of divorcing his wife of almost 40 years, some of the uncles on the committee must have choked on their own morning saliva. We were all shocked because they are the most harmonious couple anybody could know. Words traveled fast as he has left his house and wife with whatever minimum belongings he could carry and he didn't carry much. I haven't seen Uncle Zacaria in years.... I do wish him good health being on his own.

On the other hand, my parents who seemingly didn't have a lovey dovey relationship, especially with my mothers hurricane of a temper and her liberal use of profanities which often than not, intended either directly or indirectly (which always served to confuse) my father, stayed together until death did they part. That time, my mother decided to go back to work in her 60s because she couldn't stand not having her own pocket money, they had a whooper of a fight that could be heard 3 houses down. This was because Dad felt humiliated by the fact that his wife had to go to work while he stayed at home... its an Asian thing. Has to do a lot with ego. So Mom told him to go to work or bit the bullet and let her. Dad retaliated by saying that he has worked for all his life, starting when he became an orphan at the age of 9. He's done with working. But Mom insisted that they need the money. So, they continued with the fights and as the oldest I had to listen to both of them grumble. Of course when it comes to Mom, I had to listen more because she threw in some choice words in every sentence. Finally I told Mom that she should just separate from him because I had enough of listening to them both fight. Mom actually sat back in surprise and said in a slow voice, "Well, I didn't mean to get a divorce. I just want him to accept me working and not make it a source of row everyday I come home from work." Guess who was shocked then? So, she actually loved him and during all those fights never thought of separating although they could have caused a hundred couple to doubt their own marriage stability listening to my mother's acid complains. As far as I could remember at the time, they never shared tender moments together. Their relationship at best can be compared with those between guerilla fighters, very macho and nothing loving about it. But I guess, I was wrong. It took Dad about 3 months to finally relented to Mom's wants and they lasted till her final breath on the 3rd May 2005.

Abba, Ammi, Janni and a friend circa 50s

And then there are relationship which was a gamble but lasts just the same. Ammi and Abba was married for almost 50 years before Abba succumb to his stroke when he was in his 70s. They were arranged to marry via a tradition as old as time. I can only imagine what the differences were between two people who didn't know each other at all, smacked into a marriage and expected to do good by it. But, they stuck it out. She loved him and he called her 'Begum' a term of endearment reserved only for a much loved wife.

I believe that many of the crumbling of relationships today is because people are just with the wrong partner. Period. Quoting something I read online recently, "It wouldn’t matter if you ran through fire, acted perfect, gave them everything they want, and cartwheeled around naked. The person is wrong for you. It’s likely to be a mix of boundary crossing, blatant red flags, a fundamental inability to meet one another’s needs (or you meet theirs but they don’t meet yours…), a lack of shared values, and being uncommitted, or being committed for the wrong reasons. You’re fundamentally incompatible."

The article added, "When you’re with the wrong person and not acknowledging why they are the wrong person because you may be caught up in denial and illusions, you’re effectively flogging a dead horse. In fact, you have your relationship flatlining on the table and you keep trying to pump life into it. You hear faint reassuring beeps and it flatlines again. And lather rinse repeat until you realize what being with the wrong person in the wrong relationship is doing to you."

I should know better because I have had my share of the wrong person syndrome before and now I pray, eat and love that I will grow my grey hair with the right person. As I ponder into the unknown future, I watched as the couple lovingly held hands with their grandchild in between them and walk out of the restaurant, the most memorable mind picture I had for the day.

The Throne Verse

2010-12-10T04:40:00.000-08:00

اللَّهُ لاَ إِلَهَ إِلاَّ هُوَ الْحَيُّ الْقَيُّومُ لاَ تَأْخُذُهُ سِنَةٌ وَلاَ نَوْمٌ لَهُ مَا فِي السَّمَاوَاتِ وَمَا
فِي الأَرْضِ مَنْ ذَا الَّذِي يَشْفَعُ عِنْدَهُ إِلاَّ بِإِذْنِهِ يَعْلَمُ مَا بَيْنَ أَيْدِيهِمْ وَمَا خَلْفَهُمْ وَلاَ يُحِيطُونَ بِشَيْءٍ مِنْ عِلْمِهِ إِلاَّ بِمَا شَاءَ وَسِعَ كُرْسِيُّهُ السَّمَاو ;َاتِ وَالأَرْضَ وَلاَ يَئُودُهُ حِفْظُهُمَا وَهُوَ الْعَلِيُّ الْعَظِيمُ

Transliteration

Bismillahir Rahmanir Rahim

In the name of Allah, the Most Beneficent, the Most Merciful

'Allahu laaa 'ilaaha 'illaa Huu. 'Al-Hayyul-Qayyuum. Laa ta'-khuzuhuu sinatunw-wa laa nawm. Lahuu maa fissamaawaati wa ma fil-'arz. Man-zallazii yashfa-'u'indahuuu 'illaa bi-'iznih? Ya'-lamu maa bayna 'aydiihim wa maa khalfahum. Wa laa yuhiituuna bi-shay-'im-min 'ilmihiii 'illaa bimaa shaaa'. Wasi-'a Kursiyyu-hus-Samaawaati wal-'arz; wa laa ya-'uuduhuu hifzu-humaa wa Huwal-'Aliyyul-'Aziim.

Allah! There is no God save Him, the Alive, the Eternal. Neither slumber nor sleep over taketh Him. Unto Him belongeth whatsoever is in the heavens and whatsoever is in the earth. Who is he that intercedeth with Him save by His leave. He knoweth that which is in front of them and that which is behind them, while they encompass nothing of His knowledge save what He will. His throne includeth the heavens and the earth, and He is never weary of preserving them. He is the Sublime, the Tremendous.

I have read and heard of many benefits reciting this surah. In fact after I had my first born, I took it as a parental duty to learn this surah at heart so that I could recite it at my disposal. Living in a mystical society means one is open to the onslaught of the supernatural kind and has to always be at the ready to face any circumstances. This society believes that children who are still not speaking the mother tongue could see the creatures from the other realm and by that I mean demons. Most of the time those lot don't care for pleasant appearances and their soul aim is to scare the wits out of those innocent babies. When that happens, one can bid quietness and serenity goodbye.

It is said that if a baby cries for no reason after all of it's other needs has been attended to, that it could be afflicted by a demon or several demons. Reciting this surah into the babies ears could ease the baby's predicament. There are several conventional ways of dealing with the problem - some smear a few lines of charcoal on the forehead of the baby, rub onion sap behind the baby's ear, use asoefoteada liberally on the baby's head all because demons will not go to babies who are bad smelling.....come to think of it, I won't too. But at the core of it, reciting this surah is urge for a potent banishing of the unseen grotesque being.

This surah also serves as a protection prayer againts any untoward occurances. For example, kids are encourage to recite this surah before they step out of the house to ensure safe journey. Adults are urged to say this prayer when they drive or when they feel unsafe. Such was the case that happened to my sis the other night.

It was around 9.30pm and she had gone to the ATM alone. Walking towards the bank, she noticed 3 burly guys outside the bank. She walked passed them and they were making rude remarks and hooted at her. After she made the withdrawal, she started walking towards her car which was parked in a poorly lighted area about 400 meters away and sensed that the men were not as noisy as before. In fact, they were moving in purposely strides towards her and there was something intimidating about the way they were looking at her. She felt desperate and thats when she suddenly remembered the surah above and started reciting them. The 3 guys kept walking towards her and as one of them walked directly pass her, he said grudgingly, "Look at that, you certainly have enough bodyguards there!" She dismissed that remark and walked as calmly as she could to her car, got in and drove away like there was no tomorrow.

Only when sis arrived home did she realize what the guy had said and it puzzled her as she was all alone the whole time. What could the guys have seen? What broke their intentions and saved her from what could have been a calamatous ending that night? When she told us of the incident, we had goosebumps and were so thankful for what could only be described as the divine protection given to our sister. For this to happen to one so close to me could only re enforce the potency of this surah.

Awhile ago, I heard of another story related to this surah. 2 girls were walking home at night in a lonely street, one about 200 meters infront of the other. The girl in the front saw 2 guys walking menacingly towards her and she recited the surah. The 2 guys walked passed her and when they get to the girl behind, grabbed and raped her. The felonies were eventually caught and the girl infront testified against them. When asked why didn't they grab the first girl, the rapists answered, "There were 2 musculine guys walking on your left and right. Why would we want to mess with you?" Goosebumps again......such is the creation of Allah.

Well, I have always used this Surah even as a tasbih (rosary). Here are some of the benefits of the surah in record.

1. Holy prophet (PBUH) said: whoever recites the first 4 ayats of Surah-e-Baqarah (chapter: The cow), then Ayatul Kursi and then the last 3 ayats of Surah-e-Baqarah, will not be inflicted with any kind of difficulty in his wealth or himself, Satan will not come near him and he will not forget the Qur’an.

2. Holy Prophet (PBUH) said: Qur’an is a great word, and Surah-e-Baqarah is the leader of the Qur’an and Ayatul Kursi is the leader of Surah-e-Baqarah. In Ayatul Kursi there are 50 words and for each word there are 50 blessings and good in it.

3. One who recites Ayatul Kursi every morning will be in the protection, safety of Allah until the night.

4. If one ties this to ones wealth or children, they will be safe from Satan.

5. Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) has said: These things increase ones memory: sweets, meat of an animal which is slaughtered in Islamic manner near the neck, Lentils, cold bread and recitation of Ayatul Kursi.

6. For those of our dear ones who have passed away, recitation of Ayatul Kursi and giving it as Hadiyeh to them, gives them light (noor) in the grave.

7. Frequent recitation makes ones own death easy.

8. When leaving home, if one recites it once, the Almighty has one group of Angels to come and protect you. If recited twice, 2 groups of Angels are assigned to do this. If recited 3 times Allah tells the Angels not to worry as the Almighty himself takes care of him.

9. The Holy Prophet has said: If one recites Ayatul Kursi before going to sleep, Allah will send an Angel to come and look after you and protect.

10. When one is alone in the house, recitation of Ayatul Kursi and asking Allah for help will make you remain calm and you will not fear.

11. The Holy Prophet has said: When leaving home, if one recites Ayatul Kursi, then Allah will send 70,000 Angels to do Istighfaar for him until he returns home, and upon his return Poverty will be removed from him.

12. If one recites this after performing Wudhoo, the 5th Imam Hazrat Imam Muhammad Baqir (a.s) has said: Allah will give him a reward of 40 years of Ibadaat, and his position will be raised in the Heavens 40 times (levels).

13. One who recites it after every prayer, their salat will be accepted, and they will remain in the safety of the Almighty and He will protect them.

14. Allah told Prophet Musa (a.s): If one recites it after every salat, the Almighty will make his heart a thankful one (Shakireen) will give him a reward of the prophets, and his deeds will be like those of the truthful (Siddiqeen).

Beggars Are Choosers

2010-12-08T02:30:00.000-08:00

Yesterday (7th December) was the Awal Muharram public holiday in Malaysia and as the norm here, families would take the chance to get together. Sis suggested we go watch the new Narnia movie which is in 3D and costs an arm and a leg to buy the tickets and the kids jumped at this news. So there we were waiting for Sis to arrive at the mall and before the movie started, my lot ducked into McDonald’s and had lunch there. I was about to dive into the scrumptious looking and smelling fillet burger when a shabby guy stopped by our table. The guy must have been in his late 40s, shabbily clothes, balding and walking with a slouch. He had a cut out mineral water bottle with a few ringgit in it and was shoving it to me. My free hand went straight to my purse and I put in a ringgit into the bottle. He thanked me under his breath and went to the next table.

Add caption

The seconds he went to the next table, I gestured at one of the waitresses and pointed to her the beggar and she replied by showing the sign ‘wait’ to me. I kept looking at this man who was by now begging 3 tables away. A few ringgit later, what I can only suspect as the supervisor of the restaurant came and ushered the beggar out. By that time he must have made more than RM10, in less than 5 minutes. If he had gone a full round, he could have made RM50 in just 15 minutes!

I continued with my lunch and half way through it, sis came with her lot and we sat down together for the rest of the meal. She reminded me about the charity drive dinner which will happen before Xmas and asked if I would like to contribute non-perishable items for these poor souls. Apparently the people we are giving to could hardly get a meal a day. Sis continued to give a rundown of what are the food items they require when I interrupted her.

‘These people can hardly pull a meal a day?’ I asked, a little skeptical.
‘Yeah, apparently they are THAT poor. If you can arrange something in your neighborhood, the result could be incredible. These people may not even have to worry about food for the rest of the year,’ she said enthusiastically.
‘Well, of course I understand that. But on the other side of the coin, this is a rich country, how can anyone have any difficulty of getting a meal? I am sure if one were to just come wash dishes, they would, at the very least be given a meal, right?’ I asked both my sis and I recounted our very own mother’s story as a comparison.

Mother was 18 when she decided to come to Selangor in search of a better life after the death of her ailing mother. Her father had died a few years earlier and whatever money was left was swindled by a cousin. She dragged along her only other sibling, a very spoilt, reluctant 12 years old girl who, prior to her mother's death was the soul cause of my mother's heart and body aches. On the first few days they arrived, an auntie took them in but as things always goes with putting up with relatives, they don’t turn out well so after a week or so, she decided to move out. There was no money and no place to stay accept for an old goat's house and after cleaning it the best she can, they made it their home, at least until something better comes along. But there was a problem. Her small sis’s tummy didn't understand their quandary and by nightfall, she was already crying for food. Outside, rain fell in torrents and the cold weather coupled with the rising hunger could turn an innocent into a murdering thief with a blink of an eye. But they persevered and come morning, my mother went out in the drizzle and scourge for whatever she could find in the rubber plantation and to her delightful surprise found some ‘scrape rubber’. She bundled whatever she could put in her sarong and manage to find a vendor who took it from her for RM6. With that money, which at the time could only be sent from heaven, mother bought rice, sugar, coffee, salted fish and a little oil with it. This was 1950s where you can still buy a week's groceries with that RM6. The very next day, she went out and looked for work and ended up washing clothes in a few houses that earned her a few ringgit a day but she didn’t have to beg. After a month, she landed herself a job in Bata shoes and there she worked for almost 20years.

‘So, you see, unless these people we are giving to are sick, there is no reason in this country, for them not to be able to feed their kids,’ I said earnestly. ‘I am not trying to be mean, I am sure there are other mitigating circumstances that probably won't allow these parents to work but look at our mother, she didn’t have any education, she had very limited skills which cannot be applied in city living but she survived. In fact 20 years after she landed in this state, she went back to her village in her own car!’

Both my sisters nodded their heads in unison. ‘I mean, look at that beggar, if he had gone to the McD’s kitchen and beg for work instead of money, I am sure this restaurant will give him just that,’ I continued.
My sister interjected, ‘Actually, people underestimated beggars. They get more begging than earning from an honest job. For example, I have read that the professional beggars in Sabah get approximately RM7k monthly!’ she added, ‘enough reason to not do an honest job, especially if they are not qualified.

There was a lull for a moment as we spotted the beggar who suddenly appeared again, doing his round but avoiding us, as he probably remembered that our table have already contributed. He appeared to have a good inventory as he only went to the tables which had not given him. We weren't the only one who saw him as within seconds, the supervisor was chasing him while he hurried out like there was no manana. Kinda reminded me of clowns in a circus. I thought that was amusing and had to laugh. My sisters joined me and my thoughts went to the conversation I had with Jaani just the other night. We were turning in for the night and he recounted the story when he was operating in Chicago. Everyday, he’d go out in the afternoons and deliver documents to his customers himself as the offices were within walking distance. That gave him a chance to exercise and he gets to go out of the office. Every day, he would walk past a beggar and one day, curiosity got the better of him and he approached the man. He said, ‘hey man, why are you begging, why won’t you work man?’ and the beggar answered him, ‘I would work but nobody would give me a job’. So Jaani said, ‘Well, then. Come and work with me. I have these documents to deliver and if you will do that for me, I will give $5 for each delivery.’ Jaani gave the beggar his card and to his credit, the very next day, the beggar showed up in his office.

The new delivery man delivered the letters diligently for the next 3 days and at the end of the third day said to Jaani, ‘I won’t be coming tomorrow Sir. Thank you for the opportunity.’ Jaani was surprised and asked him why he was quitting to which he replied, ‘Well, when I work with you, I do 5 deliveries a day and gets $25 per day. If I beg, I get $35 per day without doing anything.’ Now what can you say to that?

So, are we to be blame for this social problem? I mean after all, the beggars are encouraged by the people who 'donate' to them. It is a no win situation, as some people genuinely are charitable at heart and what is RM1... these days even tea tarik is RM1.60. In fact, if one is unlucky, one might find oneself at the negative end of a social stigma, branded frugal or tight wad. On the other hand, if we keep giving, it doesn't motivate them to work.

I am sorry to say, I cannot find a conclusion for this discussion. Perhaps, I should go with the flow on this one... as when in Rome....

Oral Fixation

2010-09-28T23:30:00.000-07:00

I must have the thickest face on this earth. Must be all the 'trainings' I got growing up within a very critical community. In school I was referred to a the "Bullfrog" - not because I was fat but because I have the non-equivocal ability of extreme eloquence hence rendering everything in my vocal path temporary oral paralysis by the time I am done with them. My friends endearing refers to this ability as 'mulut laser' (laser mouth). Quite a few times when I get into trouble with regards to that but I acted nonchalant. As much as I can dish out, I can also receive properly without missing the laser beat. Very few things can put me down or humiliate me. The Art of War of Sun Tzu says, 'He who knows when he can fight and when he cannot, will be victorious!'

However, a recent scenario urged me to review my reaction to certain things. I was told by a dear friend that I should feel honored because he has asked me out. Really? Wish I had something to say to that. Instead I just sat there, temporarily orally paralyzed.

Just the same, here are some of the put down I wish I have the creativity to put together !

Man: If I could see you naked, I'd die happy.
Woman: If I saw you naked, I'd probably die laughing.

Man: Haven't I seen you someplace before?
Woman: Yes, that's why I don't go there anymore.

Man: Is this seat empty?
Woman: Yes, and this one will be if you sit down.

Man: Your place or mine?
Woman: Both. You go to yours, and I'll go to mine.

Man: So, what do you do for a living?
Woman: I'm a female impersonator.

Man: Hey baby, what's your sign?
Woman: Do not enter.

Man: How do you like your eggs in the morning?
Woman: Unfertilized.

Man: Your body is like a temple.
Woman: Sorry, there are no services today.

Man: I would go to the end of the world for you.
Woman: But would you stay there?

Man: Why aren't you married yet?
Woman: What? And spoil my great sex life?

Man: Why aren't you married yet?
Woman:Why aren't you thin?

Man: Why aren't you married yet?
Woman: Because having a husband and a child would be redundant.

The Bargained Art

2010-09-27T00:50:00.000-07:00

I was told that I am a ruthless bargainer. It don't matter what, where, what language, where in the world, I can bargain for the best price. Even if I have met with the long lost tribe of the Pygmies and found something I like at their shops, chances are I am going home with the best priced items. It is one of my credo that getting more mileage from my hard earned $$ is my lawful rights and to deny that would be a terrible sin. Needless to say, there were times when even my family would disown me (albeit temporarily) when I get a little ridiculous at trying to get my ideal price.

twopointoh.me

The trick to bargaining is that you must put on your 'thick face' facade. Without this 'do', you won't be able to make it to the first quarter of the 'fight'. Some people don't want to be looked at as cheap... I don't blame them. We Asians have always been thought of as poor third world country people and therefore cannot possibly afford anything luxurious. Funnily enough, that has never bothered me... he he he he... Let me side track a little. A friend went to Turkey and were taken to the leather zouk where they hand make leather jackets for designer labels. This short obscure looking fellow walk into the establishment and was eyed suspiciously by the shop owner. He picked up a jacket and asked the owner how much it was. Again, he was given the 'eye' and was told, "Oh! This is very expensive, you sure you can afford it? It is USD5,000." Our meek little guy's ego was dented where upon, he took out from his pocket crisps Euro bills all amounting to 30k. Needless to say, he got the VIP treatment that day. Oh.. did I mention this little Asian guy was only 16 at the time?

Ok.. back to our bargain. Next, just sweepingly assess how big is the shopping area. If you have a guide, all the better, you can straight away ask him/her. This information is crucial because you will bound to find something you want to buy and you don't want to buy it at the first place your found it. Usually there are a few places selling the same stuff. Also, you don't want to get to the end of the road or the shopping complex and found you have exhausted the area and have to make a U-wei to get your stuff. No, no, no... the shopkeeper will definitely murder your pocket the next time you come with a genuine buying intention. Unless of course you are in Chatuchak Market, Thailand.

marvinlee.net

Thirdly, as you enter the various outlets, DO NOT forget to randomly ask how much the prices of items are and also just casually ask what is the price after discount. EVEN if there is a "NO BARGAINING" allowed sign is on, you can always ask. They not gonna sue you, right? Then when you go to the next shop, ask the price of the same items and voila! you will be able to tell which shop gives you the most competitive price, of course all these in proportion of the quality of goods you are looking for.

cartoonstock.com

Now, lets get to the buying. You saw (again) what you like and you know what is the ceiling price, act like you are slightly interested but it is not something that you would really buy. This 'look' is the look that all shop owners would look for because this is the look of the impulsive buyers and they are the ones who make them rich! So, you have already attracted his attention. Just casually ask, how much is the goods going for. If he says a price within the targeted range, having collected the infor earlier on, you pick up the item, ponder on it and let him see that you are pondering, the look you want to send out is between 'should I get this?' He will then tell you the story of the item, if there is any and assures you that your buy will be a worthwhile one. Then you start your bargain.

Start bargaining at a ridicolous 70%, just so that he knows you are not really wanting to buy the item. He will say, "Oh no, cannot..." he might also say, "Get lost from my shop" but chances are (more so) that he will humor you and say, "Oh that is too low. My cost price is higher than that. I can only give you 10%", whereupon you will put down the item and look at him and say, "Hmm... really? Ok ...maybe another time." No self respecting shopkeeper will back out of a delicious bargaining stance and he will say to you, "Ok ok.. what is the best price you can offer me" Yes... he will ask you. The ball is in your court now, so proceed with caution. You say to him, "I don't really want to get this item but it is beautiful and would do very well among all my ornaments on the mentel. How about 50%?" He will scratch his unitchy head or he will shake them with a slight frown and say, "Please Miss, you can do better than that." When you get to this stage, you know that you will get a good price because he is softening. So you say to him, "Ok common, you can give me a better price. Tell me...how much can you give me?" He will be a bit confused at about this time because he has started to tire. Don't back out. He will give you that price. If he is not willing, just walk away. Most shops I have been to in Asia and Mid East will defnitely call you back and offer you the last price you asked.

After that buy you go and get yourself a cup of coffee and get ready for the next bargain stance!

Welcome Flashy Forty

2010-09-26T19:39:00.000-07:00

It has been a while since I am inclined to put anything down here. Just unlike me as this is where I lay down everything I cannot sum up enough courage to tell anyone. The truth to the matter is, I am finding living in the 40s a little bit too overwhelming for my audacious being. Suddenly, all that Mom went through during this time became crystal. It was as if life has entered another phase. 'Welcome to the 40s,' it said to me.

Although I am slightly more than 40 - denial probably helped through the time when I turned exactly that number - I can feel what is looming. With each acid reflux contractions, I grew more grumpy. Menopause, grandparenthood, the depreciation of libido, fashion overhaul (erkkk...), make up overhaul. I was depressed. To make it worse, I am facing this alone, safe for a personal demon that flares up once in awhile to remind me that there is no turning back unless of course I have a time machine - imagine my trail of destruction if I have that. Of course, the first instinct was to boo hoo but the survival instinct was not far behind. So, kicking and fighting, I tell myself, 'bring it on!'

I decided first thing I must do was to get rid of extra 'baggages'. So I go from this ....

A trip to Langkawi in 2002 for the Salsa Getaway. At the time I wondered why people won't lift or dip me during Salsa. Of course at the time I see myself everyday as this svelte 30something. Denial is our greatest enemy to any change. I was 83kg at the time.

..... to this

At 70kg.Taken recently during Eid after a month of fasting - so that helps...

......and I cannot start to explain how hard it was - just that it can be done. How? The key word is CHANGE and yes, you can do it too without the help of drugs or any supplement food. Just change the lifestyle habits. I began by writing down everything I ate in a day and discovered that 90% are fried stuff. Those are slowly changed to poached, grilled and fresh food with lotsa grains. I love to read health book and a little hypochondriac so that helps a little too. When I started changing my dieting habits in 2009, I lost almost 14kgs in 3 months and I gained 4kgs back in 1 month. I pretty much worked harder to keep with the program and have now been able to control the weight by consciously doing an inventory of my intake.

Besides tailoring my own diet, I also chose my own exercise program to help with the weight lost. I love dancing so naturally, the exercise regiment consists of very fun and cheeky dance routine. Paula Abdul exercise video (The First Edition) is one of my favorite along with these:

I downloaded these to my computer and do it at alternate days. Now, these are my new habits, watching my diet and instead of snacking on fried food, I dance when I have nothing better to do.

By the way, I am not advertising any type of supplement or slimming program. I feel it is important to say that with the right motivation, anyone can do it. These are mine:

Husbandry

2010-03-22T17:13:00.000-07:00

I was watching a movie, about a new wife who never met her husband before marriage. The setting was in a subdued late autumn in a prairie field. After the ceremony, she was taken on a horse car by the solemn husband to her new home. He helped her down from the carriage barely touching her, both coy and civil and left her in the house while he excused himself to go and get some provision from the town. There she was, a suitcase at her feet, standing in the modest living room when her eyes fell on a book - The Husbandry of Cattle and Chicken. She picked it up, looked at it with a wonderment in her eyes that said, "Well, at least if he is boring, I have something to read!" If that was a real setting, I bet you in less than a month she would have discovered that husbandry is something that women has an innate knowledge of, no need to read about it.

mariannadias.com

That was the first time I came across this word. Husbandry - Husbands run dry... or no more husband or a very dry husband. Leave it to me for some more zanier definitions!

Subsequent search on my trusty internet revealed the following definitions:-
"farming, management of one's private affair"
and a more elaborate one is the following:
Concept: [The economy or management of animals] Husbandry.

Category:
1. Vitality; special vitality
Synonyms: -nouns
husbandry, taming; circuration, zoohygiantics; domestication, domesticity; manege, veterinary art; farriery; breeding, pisciculture., menagerie, vivarium, zoological garden, zoo; bear pit; aviary, apiary, alveary, beehive; hive; aquarium, fishery; duck pond, fish pond., [Destruction of animals] phthisozoics (killing) [more]., neatherd, cowherd, shepherd; grazier, drover, cowkeeper; trainer, breeder; apiarian, apiarist; bull whacker [U.S.], cowboy, cow puncher [U.S.], farrier; horse leech, horse doctor; vaquero, veterinarian, vet, veterinary surgeon., cage (prison); hencoop, bird cage, cauf; range, sheepfold (inclosure).
-verbs
tame, domesticate, acclimatize, breed, tend, break in, train; cage, bridle (restrain).
-adjectives
pastoral, bucolic; tame, domestic.

www.fauvet.fau.edu/webtrng/Gener...ndry.htm

from: http://www.alphadictionary.com

Notes: Women are probably surprised to discover that today's word doesn't mean lounging around watching football in order to avoid household chores. Husbandry, to tell the truth, is something women are often better at than men. This Good Word derives not from the noun, husband, but from the verb, to husband "to conserve, to spend judiciously, to scrimp", as to husband one's money or time.

In Play: You might try this word in lieu of more grating ones in this manner: "Your husbandry of the truth makes me much less susceptible to persuasion." There are so many places where that expression works. Remember, anything considered a resource that is easily overspent, may (and should) be husbanded, "Ivan Oder can't understand why his wife husbands her affection for him so." (Can you?)

Word History: This very Good Word originated as Old English husbonda, one of many words snitched from Old Norse. This one was originally husbondi "freeholder, peasant with his own farm", a compound noun made up of hus "house" + bondi "estate owner", the present participle of bua "to have a household". This is where the meaning of "to manage a farm" originated. The Old Norse-speaking Vikings who invaded England in the 9th-11th centuries century often took Anglo-Saxon wives. These women proudly referred to their men as land-owners. Other women later stretched the truth until the meaning of the noun husband changed but not that of the verb. Curious, eh what?

www.freakingnews.com/Warrior-Wom...4821.asp

I was lost between husbandry and taming - a pure oxymoron - haiyaaa where got such things one... I have yet to see a woman who could tame her husband! My very late blessed Great Auntie chased her husband with a shining mechete all around a village after she failed miserably to 'tame' her husband. The man had a poor husbandry on his gambling habits. Thrown in with a little distraction from the village hussy, that hit my GA with the enthusiastic "die! die! die!" motto that day when she decided on the murderesque triathlon. Despite the lingering trauma from the chase, he outlived her by 10years and by the time he joined her up there, I know he would have been a champion in the husbandry of my GA's emotions. Come to think of it, my mother did the same thing with her second husband, who at the time had just lost one leg in a booby trap accident. Oh.. the guy deserved it. He sneaked out the back door to have an affair with his ex wife who was a little schizophrenic. He ran on one leg and crutches like there was no tomorrow! Wonder if it runs in the family?

In a way, sometimes husbands are like farm animals. You tell them something and the next day they are back with their old habits, untameable. Maybe that is why the word 'husband' is used in this management of farm animals because they mimmick the animal behavior.

Half way through writing this, Miki, the Swedish dude asked me, 'why the hell are you writing about this?' I answered him slyly, 'writer's prerogative, I have it in good husbandry of my blog to write whatever from my heart.'

Just My Average Drama Nite

2010-02-15T05:53:00.000-08:00

So that day, I thought I’d get a head start on the next by getting the groceries. Juggling domesticus and work requires creativity with time management. Tesco at 9.30pm was very serene, peaceful, not crowded. My family and I headed down to the wet market and were choosing seafood of choice when suddenly there was a ruckus. I saw a boy of about 13 running towards the wet market with a lady of about 40 hot on his heels. She caught him by the collar when the boy slowed down and she immediately gave him a tight slap while saying something incoherent but with great anger. The boy, looked petrified, tried to shield his face but didn’t say a word and accepted the assault. When something like that happens, the usual reaction is no reaction as we were taken by surprise. Once the realization dawned down on me, I said to myself, “Urrgghhh.. not tonite! It’s too late for drama!” There were about 20 people around and all of them were just looking at the scene but none of them did anything. That’s when I felt I had to do something. I looked at my sister and she understood. She told the nearby sales person to alert the security guard. At the same time, I went near the excited lady and asked her what had happened.

“He grabbed my boobs, he molested me, while I was alone at the detergent aisle!” she blurted angrily.

“What? You molested this lady? Where are your parents?” I directed my question to the boy, contempt spreading like fire in my veins. In the meantime, a few tight slaps landed on his face, courtesy of his victim. I would too.

“They are outside,” he said, weaving in and out of the slaps. Through this all, our idle spectators increased in numbers.

“Can you please tell me where the security office is? I need to take him to a security guard or police or something,” said the lady. I told her, “Just stay here, I will try to get someone to come here.”

“Ok , ok. I cannot let him go, he will run away,” she said. “So young, so small boy, but can go molest people, who do you think you are, @@#!!???&&%$%%&$*???!!!” she raged on.

In the meantime, a Tesco personnel arrived at the incident and told the lady to let go of the boy and to not slap him anymore due to concern over possible injuries. For a moment I thought the Tesco guy would be assaulted as well because the lady was livid. She ignored him and kept holding on to the boy’s collar and asked me if I could call her husband. I took out my mobile and while I tried to call him, they were already moving to the security office. I didn’t get through her husband though.

There was still fish to choose and tomorrow is another day. I went back to shopping with my sis, expressing my disbelief. The boy looked educated, well fed and well clothed. What could have gone wrong? I doubt the lady was making it all up but then these days, it is very difficult to tell the genuine and the hoax. When it was time to pay, we met with a guy that looked like the boy but older. He was peering into the market and I asked him if he was looking for his son. He had another boy younger than the 13 year old with him and his wife was sitting at a bench nearby. He said yes and I told him what had happened. He shook his head and muttered slowly, “It’s impossible!” Irregardless, he started towards Tesco office.

After the shopping, we decided that we wanted roti canai pisang and headed to the restaurant. After the meal, we met with the Tesco guy and asked him what ensued after the boy was taken to the security room. He said that the boy denied the molesting claim and gave wrong information to everything he was asked of including his address and his father’s cell. It was later found out that he is a student of a renowned religious school. I look at the Tesco guy and said, “ohhh.. I see.. that’s why la… “ I guess he understood what I meant by that. Hormones, hormones........

This morning Shirley called. She thanked me profusely for calling her husband although the call wasn’t successful. Apparently, after the boy grabbed her breasts from behind, she gave chase and caught him but he broke free so she chased him again. The second time she caught him, she asked if a nearby male shopper could call her husband for her but he said, “Why? You don’t have a handphone kar?” She couldn’t believe her ears and said to me, “You know, I was holding on to the boy and if I let go, he would run away, how can I made the call and hold him at the same time?” Haiyoo.. I got no words for daftness lah...

After the boy’s father rejoined him, they went over to the police station and made a report. The police officer there explained to Shirley that even if a report is made against the boy, he is a juvenile and worse case scenario will only be sent to a rehab. In a way, the police were trying to tell her that pressing charges is futile. Of course Shirley didn’t agree but the boy’s weeping mother calmed her down and she agreed not to convict him. The boy’s father refuse to believe that his son had done what he did which made Shirley irritated.

I could hear that she is still angry over the incident but thank the heavens it was not her daughter who was molested. At the time of incident the daughter wondered of to the chocolate aisle to get herself some candy and she was also pretty much alone. I agreed that would have been more traumatic and we both agreed that it couldn’t have been his first offense. It’s just so happen this time, he picked the wrong boobs.

You know what? Sometimes I just wish we don’t think too much. When something like this happens, we should do the kind thing and help, even if we think the request is ridiculous. If we don’t want to help, just move away and don’t gawk. Imagine if it happens to one of our loved ones…

And to you ladies out there, be careful when shopping alone. Sometimes that seemingly harmless boy could be packing up hormones the strength of a nuclear bomb!

What Makes Me Tick

2010-02-11T16:18:00.000-08:00

I have always been musically inclined. Well, I don't play any instruments well but I did hit a few notes on the drums and organ (since been outmoded by synthesizers) just for fun. The first time I ever choreograph was at 7 at a school concert. Every time I hear any kind of music, my feet will be making its own movement, that which is not associate with my sound faculties. Therefore it is a bit despairing for me to find that certain music does not make me feel that way anymore. Is age catching up?

I was discussing this last night with a dear friend - him not in his spring chicken years himself - in a humid and sweaty environment of a club which bears the name of a Hawaiian island. The life band was playing music I love (note the word music, not noise) from a very varied repertoire. The Rizal's is a band to be reckoned with and lends a very interesting and unique arrangements to their music. Gyrating with the beat, I was moving this way and that, feeling the lyrics and the rhythm. My friend was similarly transported into a world of his own which can only mean that the entertainment was gold. Together, we looked like 2 passe hippies high on ganja.

At one point, something dawned to me. I used to feel like this with Salsa. Whenever that clave starts tapping, I couldn't stop my feet from moving but it doesn't seem to be the case these days. Why, I wonder. So, I tapped on E's shoulder and said to him, "Eh, how come I don't feel like this with Salsa these days? It used to be that I was the first on the dance floor but now, I wait and wait until the right song before I would even consider moving my legs." He looked at me and said, "It's just not the same lah... those days we have life bands from Cuba, now it's just records. The 'loving' feeling's not the same." I shrugged my shoulders and thought, yeah... that make some sense but there is something else to it, something more personal.

Then this morning, I was watching the American Idol season 9, the first part of the Hollywood audition and saw a few next American Idols - Andrew Garcia for example. One particular female contestant, Crystal Bowersox, sang "Natural Woman" a song originally sang by Aretha Franklin and Crystal just blew me away! Simon said, "You are infectious!" and indeed she is because I found myself looking for the lyrics of that long forgotten song and listening how to sing it right because the song really caught my attention, playing over and over again in my mind, after that rendition by Crystal. So, how come Aretha didn't have that same effect on me? So, what is that special element Crystal added to the song? I can only say that when she sang it, she parted a little piece of her in that song, making it full with soul and love. (BTW this girl might be the next American Idol if she keep up with this kind of renditions). Ahhh... maybe I shouldn't go into it too deep, my brain hurts to think and hear the music in the background. I know one thing, this weekend, I will be singing that song with my Portuguese amigos in Melaka.

Funny what makes me tick these days and short of blaming the advancing maturity - for lack of better word - I would just say that I require a little 'heart' in the renditions and with records, you just don't get that.

The Legend of the Python Prince

2010-01-20T04:10:00.000-08:00

Whenever I miss my mom I would remember the time when she used to tell us the Banjar fairy tales. Her stories were very original and can never be found in any book because it was told orally from generation to generation. One of the tales she told us was unlike Snow White. It is called, the Legend of the Python Prince.

Once upon a time, there was a girl, Diang, who lived with her step mother. Diang's father was a traveling merchant and he would be away for months on end. That left her to her stepmother's mercy and she wasn't spared any. Her days started very early and it didn’t end till very late night with little respite in between, doing the house chore as a servant would.

http://dailyscrewups.com

Even so, her beauty surpasses all and that was a source of angst for the stepmother. Each day her workload was increased in the hope that she would become ugly with exhaustion. However, despite that diabolical plan, Diang seemed to become more radiant.

Unbeknownst to her stepmother, the lone Diang had found a friend in the form of a big snake in a well she frequents for water. She was fetching water one day when she heard a hissing sound coming from the well. Feeling too despaired to be afraid, she decided to find out what it was.

“Oookk,” Diang said.
“Hissss....,” says the snake.
“Who are you?” asked Diang peering into the well but seeing nothing.
“I am a snake, a big snake,” said the voice.
She considered this for a while and decided to talk some more, “What are you doing down there?”
“I am curssssseed, I can’t be outside as it is too hot, so I stay here because it is colder,” hissed the snake.
“I see. You must be new here because this is the first time I heard you. Emmm….I don’t have a friend, will you become my friend? But promise not to eat me ok?” Diang negotiated.
“Of course I won’t eat you, I don’t eat humans. I am lonely too,” says the snake.
“Alright, I will be here again tomorrow and we will talk again,” Diang said, gathering her pails of water.
“I will await you tomorrow. Do be careful, “said the snake, biding goodbye to Diang.

http://www.istockphoto.com

That day, Diang came home humming. Her grim stepmother of course noticed this and eyed her shrewdly. From that very day, every time Diang came back from fetching water, she was in a good mood, humming along. This made her stepmother more resentful of Diang and decided to get to the bottom of Diang’s happiness. The naïve Diang was oblivious to her stepmother’s malice when she was followed by her stepmother to the well one day. Hiding behind a bush, the stepmother was growing enraged with the cheery conversation that followed between Diang and the snake.

Suddenly, stepmother sprang from under the bush. “Ohhhh….!!! This is what you have been doing??!!?” she shouted. “Well, we shouldn’t let both of you lovers be apart then. You two should be together!” and with that, she pushed Diang who was sitting at the edge of the well. Diang fell into the well and struggled in the water, for she didn’t know how to swim. The stepmother gave out an evil laughter, as a diabolical stepmother would and when the struggling shouts and sounds ceased, she went home, feeling very happy with herself.

Nothing was heard of Diang afterwards and by the end of that month, Diang’s father came home. The doting father was looking forwards to seeing his only daughter and was eager to show her the presents he bought for her during his travels. Stepmother, already rehearsing her drama debut, howled while telling him about the accident that happened while he was away. It seemed that Diang fell into the well while looking for her veil that was blown away by the wind into the well. Her father was bereaved. He gathered the presents with him and took it to the well, so that he can leave it there for he cannot bear to look at them which were meant for Diang.

http://www.gaiaonline.com

Lo and behold, when he got there, who was there but none other than a radiant Diang, clad in the finest garment with a handsome young man beside, waiting for him with a big smile. Confused and looking back at his wife and then to Diang, he asked, “Diang, your mother told me that you are dead! I almost died of grief myself but now I am so happy to see you here. And who is this young man?” The teary Diang ran to his father and embraced him. When she was slightly composed, she said, “Dear Ayah (father), as you can see I am not dead but stepmother did push me into the well. All the years that you have been travelling, I was subjected to her tyranny and I am glad the day I found Abang (my darling) and he saved me.” Horrified, the stepmother screamed at her, “How can you be alive, when I myself pushed you into the well!!??” With that she lunged at Diang but was stopped by her father. Diang smiled sadly and said, “Stepmother, when you pushed me into the well, you broke Abang Uyai (Brother Snake) curse and he became a Prince once more. He was cursed by a Witch because he was an arrogant Prince who looked down upon all his subjects and acted with tyranny. The curse could only be broken if a girl would fall in love with him despite his appearance and would come down the well to meet with him. I didn’t know he was a cursed Prince. To me, he was just another lonely being looking for companionship, just like me. Although I was scared of him at first, I gradually fell in love with him as he showed me compassion and care. After he turned into a Prince, we climbed out of the well and he took me back to his palace and we were married the next day,” she explained.

http://www.snapshots.net

Filled with disbeliefs at Diang’s good luck, again the stepmother screamingly lunged at Diang but as before, Diang’s father was there to stop her. With a hiss, Diang’s father said to his wife, “I have given you the best of life anyone could ever asked for and you ill treated my only daughter. For this, I banish you. Remove yourself from here and I wish not to see you again. “That was the last any of them ever saw the stepmother.

Diang, her husband and her father walked back to the waiting carriage that took them to the Prince’s grand palace and like any other fairy tales or legends, mother ended her story with “… and they lived happily ever after.”

The End.

Footnote: Diang is a term of endearment which is used by the Banjars to lovingly call their daughters

Date Crostada

2010-01-17T20:14:00.000-08:00

I love dates. Mother used to make prata with dates filling and although it was a little over the top sweetness for me, I still loved it. We break fast with dates and I feel better the next day fasting if I break fast with dates the previous day. It serves to rejuvenates our system.

Dates are valuable as medicine for their tonic effect. It is easily digested; they are very useful for supplying energy and repairing waste. Milk in which clean and fresh dates have been boiled is a very nourishing and restorative drink to children and adults alike, especially during convalescence. The nicotinic content in dates is an excellent remedy for intestinal disturbances. Liberal use of dates keeps in check the growth of pathological organisms and helps to establish a colony of friendly bacteria in the intestines.

Dates Palm
http://www.ayushveda.com

The date is a laxative food. It is highly beneficial in the treatment of constipation as the roughage provided by it stimulates sluggish bowels. They should be immersed in water at night and taken after making them into fine syrup the next morning to secure laxative effect.

Dates are also an excellent remedy for alcoholic intoxication. In such cases, drinking water in which fresh dates have been rubbed or soaked will bring quick relief. Besides, dates are an effective remedy for weak heart. Dates soaked overnight in water and crushed in the same water in the morning after removing the seeds should be taken at least twice a week in this condition. It will strengthen the heart.

Sexual weakness can also benefits from dates. A handful of dates soaked in fresh goat’s milk overnight should be ground in the same milk in the morning. A pinch of cardamom powder and honey should be mixed in this preparation. This becomes a very useful tonic for improving sex stamina and sterility due to functional disorders.

Dates
http://www.kidsnfruits.org.au

Experiments have also shown that dates contain some stimulants that strengthen the muscles of the uterus in the last months of pregnancy. This helps the dilation of the uterus at the time of delivery on one hand and reduces the bleeding after delivery on the other. Dieticians consider dates as the best food for women in confinement and those who are breast-feeding. This is because dates contain elements that assist in alleviating depression in mothers and enriching the breast-milk with all the elements needed to make the child healthy and resistant to disease.

However, as a precaution, dates require great care for selection. The sticky surface of the date attracts dust and impurities of the air to settle there. It is, therefore, advisable to purchase the best varieties in good packing condition and to wash them thoroughly before use.

So when I saw Anna Olson on Asian Food Channel with her 'Dates Costada', I instantly fell in love with the recipe. I tried it over the weekend and it was delicious.. too bad I didn't take a picture of it but promise will do that the next time my kitchen is graced with the presence of this wonderful desert. For any of you adventurous enough to make this fairly easy recipe, it is best taken warm with black coffee.

Dates Crostada
http: //www.creampuffsinvenice.ca

Date Crostada
By: Anna Olson

Ingredients:

For Filling:

2 cups pitted dates, roughly chopped
1 ½ cups apple cider
¾ cup red wine/red grape juice/cranberry juice
¼ cup golden brown sugar, packed
2 cinnamon sticks
1/8 tsp ground cloves

For Crust:

¾ cup unsalted butter, room temperature
½ cup sugar
1 egg
1 Tbsp sour cream
2 ¼ cups all purpose flour
1 tsp anise seed, whole or ground
½ tsp salt

For Cream Cheese:

4 oz (½ block) cream cheese, room temperature
2 Tbsp sugar
½ tsp vanilla extract

For Egg Wash:

1 egg mixed with
2 Tbsp water

Method:

1. For filling, combine all ingredients in a pot and bring up to a boil over medium-high heat. Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer, stirring often until dates have absorbed liquid and is thickened, about 15 minutes. Cool to room temperature and remove cinnamon sticks.

2. For crust, cream together butter and sugar until smooth. Stir in egg and sour cream. In a separate bowl, combine flour, anise seed and salt and add to butter mixture. Mix just until dough comes together. Shape into 2 discs, wrap and chill for 20 minutes.

3. For cream cheese, beat cream cheese until smooth, then stir in sugar and vanilla and set aside.

4. Preheat oven to 350° F. On a lightly floured surface, roll out first disc to just under ¼-inch thick and line a 9-inch removable-bottom tart pan, trimming edges. Spread cream cheese evenly on bottom of tart shell. Dollop date filling over cream cheese layer and spread evenly. Roll remaining pastry disc to ¼-inch thick and cut 12 strips, each ¾-inch wide. Lay six pastry strips over date filling, spacing evenly across tart. Lay remaining six strips crosswise over first layer of strips and trim excess dough from edges. Brush pastry with egg wash and bake tart on a baking tray for 40 to 50 minutes, until a rich golden brown. Cool tart for at least an hour before serving.

5. Tart can be served chilled or at room temperature. ,

Worship By Any Other Name

2010-01-14T17:38:00.000-08:00

I thought it’s interesting that this morning while looking for something to read for my “oo-oouk” session I found this almost 2 years old article from “Off The Edge”. Needless to say, I postponed my “pondering” session and headed of straight to the computer, seconds later, punching away with gusto - errr.. since I couldn't find the full article online.

The article was penned by Farish A Noor, a Senior Fellow at the Rajaratnam School of International Studies at Nanyang Technical University (NTU), Singapore where he is Director of Research for the Research Cluster on Transnational Religion in Southeast Asia. He is also guest affiliated Professor at both Universitas Muhammadiyah Surakarta (UMS) and Sunan Kalijaga Islamic University, Jogjakarta. He is the author of ‘Writings on the War on Terror’ (2006), ‘From Majapahit to Putrajaya’ (2005) and ‘Islam Embedded: The Historical Development of PAS’ (2004). He was at the time based at the Zentrum Moderner Orient, Berlin and one of the founders of the www.othermalaysia.org research site. Farish can be contacted at farish @ othermalaysia.org.

WORSHIP BY ANY OTHER NAME
Time to brush up on our general knowledge of the world

ODD HOW LANGUAGE confounds. Odder still is how we depend almost entirely on it to make ourselves understood, and yet more often than not the failure to understand and communicate seems to be the prerequisite for communication itself.

Watching Malaysia from the vantage point of Egypt where yours truly has parked himself for five weeks or so – is a challenging experience to say the least. Bogged down by the infernal maddening traffic of Cairo and shuttling from one pyramid to the next temple or monastery, which, for convenience’s sake , is often situated hundreds of kilometers away, the news from Malaysia reads and sounds dim amidst the noise and bustle if traffic and movement. Yet is has come to my attention that something is amiss about the word “Allah”, and how some quarters in Malaysia today seem perturbed by the word slipping out of their monopolistic grasp and falling into the clammy clutches of others.

Now this, of course, comes as news to me for just a few days ago I was at the Coptic Christmas mass in the Coptic Cathedral of Aswan where the Coptic Pope (who else?) was delivering his Christmas sermon beginning with the familiar phrase “Bismillah”. All around me were images of the Prophet Jesus (suitably named ‘Isa’, of course) and copies of the Coptic Bible in Arabic. The priest who invited me to the mass and who made sure I was seated as close to the front as possible so that I didn’t miss any of the action was mildly bemused when I informed him that in Malaysia there are some people who may object to the Christians using the word “Allah”. ‘Then what are we going to use?’ he replied. ‘We are Arabs and we are Christians – Arabic is our language and that is the only word we know. What else can we say?’ Well, tell that to some of the Muslims of Malaysia who seem to think that they are about to lose their religious identity pretty soon, I thought.

An Egyptian Coptic Priest
Courtesy of: http://www.lightstalkers.org

That “Allah” is an Arabic word and that the use of the word “Allah” predated the coming of Islam is such a trivial fact that even the poorest, lamest student of basic Islam 101 would know it by now.
What upsets me even more (and believe me, this is upsetting as I am meant to be on holiday and enjoying the sunset by the Nile instead of droning on in this ponderous pedantic, stuffy academic way) is the fact that not only have we forgotten that the world “Allah” has more to do with Arabic culture and language that it has to do with Islam; we have also forgotten the fact that in Southeast Asia there has always been a longer tradition of semantic and semiotic ecumenicalism than anyone can remember.

Remember “Dewata Mulia Raya?” Well, that was precisely the name given to God with the initial contact between Muslim missionaries and the pre-Islamic Malays of Nusantara. The earliest traces of Islam’s arrival that are found on the stone inscriptions that dot the Peninsula all refer to the coming of the new creed and how it introduced the notion of a singular, monotheistic God, referred to as Dewata Mulia Raya. For centuries that followed – and right up to recent times – Malaysian Muslims were content with the word “Tuhan” and phrases like “Tuhan Yang Maha Esa” (which, incidentally, happens to be a Malays sentence composed entirely of Sanskrit words). Day in, day out, Muslims in Malaysia would go to perform their “sembahyang” (prayers), and on Fridays the roads would be jammed because of the double –parking in front of the mosques of Kuala Lumpur due to the “sembahyang Jumaat”.

Well, let this bespectacled chain-smoking academic note that “sembahyang” happens to be pre-Islamic term and is derived from the words “sembah” (to worship_ and “hyang” which refers to the “Primal Ancestor”” the original, primordial Human spirit-being that was also worshiped by our dear orang asli friends and neighbors, and who was for centuries associated with the earth-genesis cult of many an aboriginal group.

As a kid (longgggggg ago), I recall scampering about the neighborhood with my friends, doing all sorts of unspeakably nasty things that boys are wont to do when they are left unobserved for more than a minute,only to hear the grumpy Ustaz cry out in the distance, “Hoi! Pi balik rumah sembahyang!!! Nanti kena rotan!” (Hooooii! Go home and pray!! Or you will be whipped!) Odd then that during those golden days before the coming of the Mullahs, it was fine for even the Ustaz to ask us to ‘sembah-hyang’, for we all knew what it meant.

The Muhammad Ali Mosque from the Citadel in Cairo, Egypt

Those days are gone now and Hyang has made his exit, stage left. The very semantics of religious praxis have become the battleground where communal, racial and class differences are being fought out, in some confounded proxy way where the real issues at stake – like Malaysia’s economic future and the rising costs of living for instance – are left undiscussed. Worse still, we are no closer to understanding ourselves or recognizing, our past in our hurried rush to show everyone what a wonderfully moderate progressive Muslim country we are. This nonsensical debate on the use of the word “Allah” has less to do with Islam and more to do with the communal and divisive politics of Malaysia. And for some to insist that the word “Allah” can only be used by Muslims in Malaysia is as shallow and obnoxious a claim as any, for it serves only to rob us further of our Asian identity and Arabise Malaysia even further.

The final laugh, however, goes to the non-Muslim Arabs of he world who must be looking upon us with more than a hint of amusement. For who is worshipped by the Catholis,Copts and Jews of the Arabs world, if not Allah himself?

2010

2010-01-02T15:05:00.000-08:00

So where did 2009 go?

As I usher in 2010 with the rest of the 5billion people in the whole world, I was adamant not to have a new resolution this year. Simply because I don’t believe in making promises that loose its purpose come half year. I don’t need a new year to start making changes for myself. That can happen now.

That doesn’t mean that I snigger at those who do. I mean, it is everybody’s’ prerogative to have a resolution. It’s just that after what happened to me the last 4 months of 2009, my perspective on resolution has somewhat gone askew.

For starters, I hit a wall on all my business plans and the hope of things changing were wearing off. Along came the health problems followed by marital melt-down. To add up to it, my kids were showing signs of neglect, although I was there in their lives constantly. I reached the summit of my predicament when I felt paralyzed from it all. However, some senses came back knocking into me and I instinctively know I have to fight back.

So, I set out to make the changes. In a gist, I took control of the situation and got back my health, realigned my business and made sure my kids are given the proper attention they require, if it means I have tan some hides! The other thing which I want to make sure is that I still channel my thoughts on this blog, which I hold dear to my heart.

So, come forth 2010, bring it on!

A Soujourn

2009-09-25T05:46:00.000-07:00

It's been a while and I have missed blogging. There are many adventures which I have gone through these last 3 months and I will posting them here soon. In the meantime, all my love to all my friends.

- Inamohde

Tsunami

2009-07-19T07:49:00.000-07:00

I will be going outstation, near the sea 3rd week of July. About 2 months ago, my sister alerted me of the tsunami prediction resulting from an eclipse quake and begged me not to go to the venue. Apparently, the tsunami is going to hit the eastern coastal areas, right where Cherating is going to be on the 22nd of July 2009. At the time when she told me, I didn't think it pose much of a concern because after all it was just a prediction. It may or may not come true, innit?

Today we had one of those family get-togethers and while watching the kids in the pool, sis related to me something her colleague told her. This particular office mate has a husband whose hobby is fishing and every weekend, his fishing buddies and him will be in some lake or river or the sea or a man-made fishing pond where one pays RM15 to fish for 2 hours.

Last week they went to a river and they didn't have to cast their fishing hooks. The river's water level had somewhat decreased and all they had to do was scoop the fishes out with a big net. Everyone of them came back with abundant catch and had fish party in their homes. What's that got to do with tsunami eh?

Well, only that, the last time they had a party like that was a few days before 25th December 2009.

Faux Pas

2009-07-18T01:42:00.000-07:00

My internet connection had been down for quite a while and when it came back, the modem plays hide and seek connection with me. Most of the time this left me jumping up and down in anguish and I just switch off my computer and attend to other work. Then about 2 weeks ago, work started to build up, leaving me with no time to attend to my beloved blog.

If you are wondering what had taken my time off the puter, its these babies here. Other than that its the same ol' mundane chores times 3. I noticed that when I am working, I don't have enough hours in a day and I loose track of everything else.

So this morning when Mai told me about suicide bombing in Jakarta, it came as a surprise to me- coz I have not read the news. However, I think almost everyone in this region are not shocked because there was a travel alert on Indonesia since early this year. My condolences goes out to the innocent people who have been murdered senselessly.

On the other hand, my heart goes out to the people of Indonesia on the whole - those non terrorists ones. These series of new catastrophe will definitely hit their tourism industry bad and people making a living in this industry are going to suffer much. The poor things living off Rp15,000 (USD1.50) a day. If you walk the streets of Yogya, you will find the most friendly smiles and hard working people anywhere in the world. Centuries of changes are assimilated into their way of life and one would feel very comfortable being among them, people who have open hearts and non prejudiced towards different religion, creed and race.

When I was in Medan, our group hired a taxi driver called Jali. This guy drives like a mad person, that's all I can say. Of course, by Indonesian standard, that is pretty much acceptable, because if one were to drive like an Australian on an Indonesian road, that person will be joining the dearly departed not 15 minutes after he starts driving. Although it might sound bad, trust me, I am not bashing them. Their traffic behaviour is an attribute to be noted. You see, on top of the international traffic language that we all learn at driving schools, the Indonesians have another language amongst the drivers that uses a lot of honks - eg one honk for "incoming car, you had better get out of the way because I am over taking this slow coach, even if it is a single way road, make you way to the emergency lane." There was a time during that journey when 3 vehicles actually traveled side-by-side going the same way - one on the emergency lane, one of the main lane and the other on the incoming lane. The feeling was not unlike going on a roller coaster on a high drop - you simple lost your heart somewhere at the top roll. However, no matter how precarious you think a situation is, an Indo driver can always whizz out of it. Of course, I have lived to tell in which case, if I had not survive, we won't be talking about it now!

webs-of-significance.blogspot.com

When he is not 'busy' haggling with the rest of his fellow instant formula 1 speed racers, I managed to ask somethings about him. Jali graduated from Gadjah Mada University, one of the oldest and prestigious unis in Indonesia in political studies. When he graduated, work was scarce but he had to start supporting his parents so he becomes a teacher. A few years teaching and he found that working as a driver will bring more dosh to the household and he quit. Thus his career as a driver aka road terror started. We talked about his family, how cost of living is escalating every year, what are his dreams for his 2 girls and his ambition of one day owning his own land for plantation. These are real dreams and by the looks of it, he works very hard and saves every penny to get there.

www.seppo.net

Although I believe that dreams are achievable, I can see that it will take Jali 100 times more effort to get to that summit of his ambition, as oppose to if he had been born in Malaysia. These are the people who are going to be effected by the bombing and I guess the bombers didn't think they will be depriving their brothers of their livelihood because of what they did.

As parting words, I enclose 2 surah from the Quran - one clearly stating that Islam do not condone suicide bombing and the second one, a surah that promotes peaceful approach (is anybody listening to Quran at all?)

"O ye who believe!... [do not] kill yourselves, for truly Allah has been to you Most Merciful. If any do that in rancour and injustice, soon shall We cast him into the Fire..." (Qur'an 4:29-30).

"O ye who believe! Remain steadfast for Allah, bearing witness to justice. Do not allow your hatred for others make you swerve to wrongdoing and turn you away from justice. Be just; that is closer to true piety." - Qur'an, Surah al-Maidah (5:8)

Ponzi Field Day In Malaysia

2009-06-14T18:11:00.001-07:00

*Ponzi Scheme
A Ponzi scheme is an illegal pyramid scheme in which some early investors are paid off with money from later investors in an attempt to make the system look legitimate. But when later investors demand their money, the fraud collapses. This type of scheme is named for 1920s-era swindler Charles Ponzi, who promised investors a 40 percent return in 90 days.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I was surfing this morning when I accidentally clicked on one of them 'work-from-home' ads. Basically, the ad says you can earn RM300-RM800 a week just by doing some junior level data entry job from home, according to your own time, at any rate you want. Which means more work, more money.

I admit I was intrigued. That's quiet a sizable cheque just by sitting on my bum in front of the computer. What I learned from all my life experiences is that, if something is too good to be true, it probably is. However, I don't want to be an outright skeptic. There is this thing called 'hope' and you have to be a dreamer to achieve something so... some sleuth work is required here.

My research took me to this thread here. Notably the two companies which I checked were:

1. Adtypists Home Business
2. Coulomb World BPO

Since I used to work with one of the biggest frauds this side of the pacific, my mind steers itself easy as I realize how these people make their money. These are nothing but pyramid style money scam. First, to get the job, you have to pay a small sum. Actually depends on what is small to you - RM25 to RM1040. Wah... before you actually get paid, you have to pay? (Alarm bells tolling) Then you are given a (I'm sure) repeatedly-passed-down-from-one-internet-fraud-company-to-another printed material which they call manuals and you are suppose to read it carefully. They will give you some data entry job and you will get paid maybe 1st and 2nd time. After that, the company will give all sorts of excuses to make payment until you feel your phone calls worth more than your initial paid-up. Just like any pyramid style business, those pioneer members gets paid as they should but as you go down the line, you might not be able to recover your initial investment at all.

Reading down the thread, I saw that there are some 'people' who are getting paid, some even acting very defensively for the company. My mind then starts playing 'devil's advocate' with me. What if this thing actually works? What if I don't get into the band wagon and miss a golden opportunity? Hmmm.... to try or not to try... AND thing is, if these are scams, how come they are not reported and are still in business, recruiting new people (Coulomb World is 1+ year old).

I decided to go with my initial sentiment, be a skeptic and get out before you get in. (Bells tolling to the tune of 'too good to be true'). I guess it boils down to one thing... our 'tidak apa' attitude, yours sincerely a guilty party too. Who wants to go through all the trouble of contacting the authority, submitting complaint form for RM25 that we lost? But I bet an ang moh will not let it go.....

Taboos

2009-06-10T17:36:00.000-07:00

I was cooking and needed the curry leaves. I shouted for Meimei who had her behind rooted to the computer chair, chatting with her friends. She came down and I told her to take them leaves. She went out the back door and plucked a few. Instead of coming right inside, she handed them to me through the window. I frowned at her and said, “Missy, don't pass it through the window. What did your grandma say about this?” She obediently came inside and in less than a second she was gone, without reciting what was it grandma told her. What my mother would have told her would be – don’t pass anything through the window because it is bad omen as burglary will happen in the house within days.

Growing up in a society steep with mystical beliefs, I learned to not think too much and just obey the taboos that were practiced in our house. Although the Malays are predominantly Moslem and Islam do not practice mystical taboos, the custom changed very little. There were a few times I questioned the rationale of it only to be reprimanded by my parents for disobedience. Some makes sense, others, to me, are just periodical. One thing for sure sometimes, because of the military-like programming, I practice them almost on autopilot. These pantang (taboos) are passed down for generations and they cease relevance today but still some obey them faithfully. I deduce that it is a way of ensuring all precaution taken so that life will be smooth sailing. Among some of them are:

Don’t sit on pillows; you’ll end up with boils Pillows are for heads not the butts; I wouldn’t want to put my head on a butted pillow too…
Don’t cut nails at night – Bad luck and death will befall the person soon
Before there was electricity, lightings were provided by kerosene lamp or candles which most of the time didn’t provide enough lights and there were no safety enhance nail clippers. People used small blades to cut nails then. So, it is easy to suffer a cut that will become septic and that would lead to bigger problems.

Don’t throw out trash or clean house at night – Along with the trash, the luck will also be swept out too
It was said that some families suffered ill fate in their business as a result.

Don’t sing in the kitchen while cooking – A girl will end up marrying an old man
Hey, in this era, that might not be such a bad thing…. Ahaks..

Don’t spoon food from the pot on the stove straight to your mouth (to eat) – You will be despised by people for no reason
I think it is an unbecoming habit for a lady; I’m not surprised if the habit is criticized.

During meals, don’t change seat more than once – You’ll end up having more than one wives/husbands
This is stressed more for children. Children are messy eaters, so maybe this is to discourage them from messing up more than one place.

When cutting vegetables, always start from the stem down, not the other way around. If one doesn’t follow this, you might end up with a breached baby
Unfortunately, at the time of writing I have no explanation for this.

If you spit while passing motion, you’ll end up with bad breath
I will do some research on this and will later post the findings.

Never position your main door towards a road, the occupants will be infected with endless ill health
I would think that it is kind of hazardous especially if a bull cart were to go above its speed limit and crash into the house..

Never open an umbrella inside the house, that will invite snakes into the house
This one I followed faithfully for I am afraid of them snakes.

Sewing at night will end one up with poverty
Perhaps it was thought to have the same effect as ‘Sleeping Beauty and spindle pin’?

Don’t eat from a plate you hold in your hand, put it on a table. If you don’t your whole life will be riddled with debts.

Never let salt, sugar and rice (staple items) to run out or you will enter hard times
I agree with this one.

Tailoring is best done on Friday. If you do it on Sunday, the end product will end up in tatters very soon and Thursdays will result in a fragile finish.

Never lie on your stomach with your legs bent in the air, your parents will die sooner than time.
Mom used to shout at me for doing this. She lived to be 72.

Maidens are not allowed to sit in the middle of a doorway, it will delay suitors.
Like I said, these are passed from our forefathers down…. Way way back forefathers… even way back and then some… where there is nothing more for a girl to do after she turned teen but to be married off to good suitors.

When there is knock on the door if you hear someone calling you after hours, make sure the knock is more than three times and the calling is persistent. If you don't you might find no one at the door when you open it and demons will come and inhibit your house.
We take off our shoes when we enter the house and we were always told to wash our hands, feet and face before we go near babies (if any) that resides in the house. This is to rid of any bad spirit that might have hitchhiked on the way to the house.

The use of mirror is prohibited at night. If you defy this, you will appear ugly up close.
What? Beauty is NOT in the eye of the beholder?

These are but mere drop in the ocean of what we were told to practice. I can’t remember all of them because as time pass, they don't make sense. Taboos are still observed in the villagers. Maybe I should visit my kins there and compile a list of the taboo, especially those concerning pregnant ladies.

But on a more serious note, I must stop looking at myself in the mirrors at night....

Seduction

2009-06-10T05:30:00.000-07:00

I was looking around for old videos and found this. Madhuri Dixit is really stellar here and I have not seen anybody dance with such finess and as fluidly as she does. Perhaps this is why Indian girls are highly sought after.. learn the art of subtle seduction....its an art..

Arrest Reality

2009-06-09T19:30:00.000-07:00

What happens when the wind of reality
blows away the clouds which blanketed our senses?
When the sunlight that once was refreshingly warm
becomes too brilliant for our understanding?
And the glossy road to the future
is blanched stark and no longer shows direction?

What happens when the knight in shining armor
begins to show his battle wounds?
While the princess in the tower
decides to save her tired voice from hurting
And they no longer yearn to ponder the possibility
of role-playing one more time.

What happens when small annoyances become major burdens?
When the expectation level is raised,
and the acceptance level is lowered?

What happens when the glitter fades, the masks fall off
the marks aren't made?
What happens when the shoe won't drop, the feelings wane,
curiosity stops?
What happens to the plans that fade when daily life
tolls each hour?
What happens to the perfect light that has faded from our sight?

http://zenhabits.net

What happens is we see each other
as people who have emerged from years of experience
unique only to ourselves.
Our own struggles, hardships, luck, happiness
crossroads and detours, gains and losses
These are life's puzzle pieces that have created who we are.

And now we are not blinded by infatuation
We can begin to see how the pieces join
and slowly understand from where they fell
And start building a more comfortable appreciation
Of the real people that have emerged
from behind the clouds.

I did not write the above. G did during a lull in the middle of a failed relationship. I seriously don't think there is anything wrong with him but more and more of my very successful friends are facing their days in solitary. Other than work, immediate family and a handful of friends, they are void of that most crucial human interaction. G's writing says it all.....

Emotional Spring Cleaning

2009-06-01T20:20:00.000-07:00

Spring cleaning – the activity of cleaning a house thoroughly at the end of winter (from www.wordnet.princeton.edu )

As a citizen of an equatorial country which have never experienced winter, I still carry out spring cleaning at whim throughout the year. Spring cleaning here denotes that time when you clean your house of clutters and as it is always summer here, we can do literally throughout the year. Other than the material stuff spring cleaning, I also, once in a decade or so, carry out spring cleaning on my so call friends. Come to think again, if they are friends, why do I need to do that?

Basically, the individuals who fall into this category are those people who have been constantly acting in such seemingly-friendly-with-big-smiles-but-said-the-most-confusing-unfriendly-things. I believe that to keep a healthy being, I must remove the physical as well as emotional impurities – emotional impurities being the ones that caused me confusion and angst, the impurities outside my circle of influence. (The concept of Circle of Influence / Circle of Concern is powerful way of becoming more self-aware of our own proactivity. It helps us focus our time and energy. It is a way to de-stress and find inner peace. We'll look at our Circle of Influence in both our professional and personal lives. - Franklin Covey)

So, the first step I do is to put them in compartments.

1. Friends who make me feel less about myself, who constantly points out my weaknesses with such brutality that it confuse me whether they are being cruel-to-be-kind or mocking my inadequateness. Whatever it was, I always feel so much more unworthy after talking to them.

Oh... and that crap about nobody-can-hurt-you-if-you-don't-let-them - how many of us, are perpetually strong minded that we are not affected by what people say especially when we are at our low points? Even if momentarily, there were times when we feel the stinging pain when somebody said something unkind, that moment before our nurturing kick in, telling us how we should react. Then, as fast, we can almost feel the muscles in our hearts tightens and wills itself to rid the pain. Simulteneously, the brain wills itself to rationalize the situation and concoct what socially-accepted reaction should be displayed.

2. Those who can’t seem to keep their promises or cheats. They always come with the supplementary attributes of lying without batting their eyelashes.

3. Gossip mongers. Usually you won’t know who they are until someone tells you or you get to hear something about yourself from someone the gossip monger had confided in.

4. Backstabbers and hypocrites.

There are other attributes to this category but the above are the more acute ones. Of course unlike materials which you can easily take to the dumpster and off with it, I can only make a mental note of NOT sending them anymore cards, baking their birthday cakes, calling once in a while just to ask how their family is doing. Hey, wait a minute, sometimes I don't do these things for good friends too, innocent oversight being one reason.

In the end, I decided that they are not my friends anymore in my mind. Yeah, I can live with that, I got even.

The Chung Mamogram

2009-05-29T17:36:00.000-07:00

It was dumpling (chung) festival and I was invited to Sabrina's along with the other ladies for chung breakfast. She sms'ed earlier saying that she will only serve the sweet version and nothing else. Normally, the ladies would bring something anyways, despite being told not too. Who wants to come empty handed? I was however, obedient for once, having been too flustered these days with chores.

Chung is essentially glutinious rice soaked in alkaline water to give it the yellow tinge and then wrapped in banana leave, held with raffia strings. In the olden days, gunny strings was used, which I think is more hygenic. Then it is steamed slowly to ensure thorough cooking. The art comes in the method of making the molasses syrup which is a guarded secret for each Nyonya families. If you are wondering what inside it, it is secret!

There are two types of chung, savory and sweet. The savory chungs normally contains pork or chicken prepared with spices and cooked before stuffing.

Sweet chung served with molasses syrup
from: www.penangfaces.chanlilian.net

Chung dumpling wrapped with banana leave. from: masak-masak.blogspot.com

As usual, I was the last to arrive and I could hear the crakling laughter coming from the dining area. Instead of just the dumplings, I could see the the small dining table brimming with food - lobak (jicama cake with pickled vege topping), cakes and more cakes. There were at least 5 types of tea - ginseng tea, crysumtimum tea, rose tea etc - and 4 other types of coffee from around the world - Vietnam, Colombia, Ghana and American (?).

Because I am also one of the youngest (hehehehe), I was served by the loving ladies. First they gave me the chung and poured syrup on it, then they poured two cups of coffee and tea each, both tasting like some kind of herbs I took after childbirth and then they served me some more food. My 'sleeping partner' during travels, Helen pointed out that I should take a small sampling of everything in between the drinks to savor the taste - a culinary journey apparently. It was too early in the morning for me but I was there more for the conversation. My tea cup was constantly full because I have a tea keeper besides me. Not drinking the tea would be rude and that I am not.

While I was fighting with my mouth and hands, I blurted out that I went for a traditional massage a few days ago. An excellent Indonesian lady who has been staying in Malaysia for 15 years. Her services is highly sought by the 'people just below heaven' class and she charges reasonably. RM50 for 1 hour. For someone extroverted, I admitted feeling bashful when the masseuse kneaded my breasts. Of course I have done it before but for some reason, having your breasts handled when you don't have a condition (eg after childbirth) is a little bit more than daunting.

Wenny: You think that was bad? We went for Ayurvedic massage and they actually make a dough out of your breasts you know.

Ruth: That is not the half of it. They stripped you down to your last article of clothings and gave you a loin cloth the size of a band-aid. Haiyooo.... I was going of my mind trying to keep the patch to cover my pussy cat! At the end day, I let my nether region as it was when I was born lah... bare for all to see... couldn't hold it on with all that slippery oil she put on me.

Wenny: Yes! Yes! There was so much oil!!! And they slap you around and turned you up and down. How to keep the loin cloth in place? I was moving around too much on the stretcher at one point I almost fell of it. The messeus although old was very strong. Almost everytime she touched me, I laughed .... beh tahan loorr (cannot stand). I felt like a roti canai (a bread dough) wooorrrr...

By this time, the roam was thumping with laughter from all of us.

Sabrina: How did you feel afterwards? Better or not?

Ruth: Surprisingly, I did feel better. I guess she straightened the blood flow and my croked veins and bones because I felt lighter afterwards.

Me: My messeus told me that she found a lump in one of her clients breasts. The client got it checked and apparently it was cancerous.

Vas: Talk about lumps, I had my mamo done last month. It was painful lah.

Sabrina: It shouldn't be what... only for a little while.

Vas: I had it done 3 times because they said thats normal for Indians.

Me: How come?

Vas: Apparently, the Indians has the most dense breasts, the Malays second and the Chinese has the easiest breasts to mamo on.

All of us: Really?

Vas: Yes. That is what the technician told me. Actually for my case, I think it was because I laughed too much. Everytime she pulled at my breasts, I sniggered violently and my breast would come off the plate which made HER laugh and she had to start the procedure again. In the end she had to wait until my giggle subsided before she did it again.. hahahaha

Again, there was an uproar in the small room.

Me: You silly nugget! I hope you don't get the same technician to do it for you or she will tape your mouth. Or worse, maybe she will put your lips on the plate!

We laughed somemore and continued making fun of stuff and before we know it, it was time to get back to the mundane chores in our lives.

The Keyboard Malfunction

2009-05-29T15:14:00.000-07:00

My keyboard ceased to work last week. Apparently there was something wrong with the wiring. Before it went kaput, I could always manage to get it to work again by twisting and turning the wire but that very last time it gave out its last alphabet before it went straight line, I almost ripped the wire off but no alphabet would come. I was staring at a blank google search screen. Death to my computer keyboard.

As I was rushing to do some other ongoing chores, replacing the new keyboard, although crucial in my line of work, was put aside. Everytime I passed by my desktop, I kept telling myself that I need to replace the keyboard or I might find myself in a fix when I need info. Well, that day came too early. I had to quickly do some research on something and what do I do? They say desperate times calls for desperate measures.... ohh... don't worry, I am not capable of cooking up something radical like some people.. just common sense.

Since I cannot type, I clicked (thank god for little mouses) on my search tab. Once the page loaded, I literally cut and paste the words one by one from the search page, like below - alphabet by alphabet.....

..............until I get this

Don't worry the spelling is not right, google is so intelligent it will suggest the right spelling for you on the search listing.

Better still, get a new keyboard, saves the trouble of torturing mousy. Obviously, I did.... although it would be interesting to see if I have the patience to do it. Besides, I don't think my mouse could stand the nonsense.

Arab-American comedians break the funny barrier

2009-05-11T22:39:00.000-07:00

Whenever I log on my chat program, a small window will pop up with the latest news. I never took notice of it, I normally click it off. This morning however, something out of the ordinary caught my eyes. In my opinion, Arabs and comedy is like the mythical Bigfoot staring in the next Jerry Bruckheimer movie. Why did I say so? I used to live among them and even dated 2. (and I wondered what weapon they used to break it with?)

After reading the news, my skepticism dissipated and I went to youtube and watched Axis of Evil, a roadshow featuring Arab comedians. One in particular really made me laugh and I think he was quite the best from all of them - I hope none of them are reading this or they would probably resort to throwing things at each other - Palestinians mothers like to do that when they get angry, apparently.

Arabs are a self-righteous lot. I had the luck of dating an old fashion one and he criticized everything I do, especially where religion and my religious rituals were concern, saying I don't do them right. Well, I thought it was good that I even tried for he was nowhere near the praying mat ever since I met him! He went too far one day with his joke when he demonstrated how hard his swing was when he swatted 'the' fly - on me. Needless to say, I reciprocated and left him rolling on the floor with hopefully a swollen peepee. That was the end of that.

The following vidoe is by Aron Kader (used to be Kadhir) and I thought he is kick-ass funny.

WOOCC

2009-05-11T08:01:00.001-07:00

It was dark and the mothers were anxious. Huddled in one corner at the staircase landing, children – fingers going at hypersonic speed on the portable PS3 keyboards. How they do that in the dark was a magical wonder. Fathers talking in hushed voice for not wanting to irritate the anxious mothers. Sabrina in particular had rooted herself at a sentry post facing the front door in the living room, looking out to the gate impatiently. No, we were not planning a heist; it was just Nancy’s surprise birthday.

The presents

Earlier on, I received a reminder sms from Sabrina. As I got to Nancy’s, I can hear the bustling activities of the other ladies, getting the party ready. Jeff - Nancy's other half - had left his house key in Sabrina’s mailbox at around 2pm and they have been out ever since. He was under strict orders to get Nancy home by 6.30pm. I made chocolate tart and multi-colored-drizzled-chocolate-dipped-donut and the birthday cake. By 6pm, everyone – except for some David and Will, were all there.

The choc pecan tart, yum yum....

6.30pm came and gone. We all looked at each other. 6.45pm, still no Nancy. Children were getting restless and hungry. “Eh, why don’t we feed the small kiddies first?”said Ruth. Someone quipped it will get messy if we did and we buried the idea. Another 10 minutes went by. Sabrina asked Wenny to contact Nancy on the pretext of inviting her for a game of mahjong. “Hello Nancy, what time you coming back? Want to play Mahjong?” said Wenny.

“I am still shopping at Tesco loorrr. Will come back around 7pm. Count me in for Mahjong “ Nancy answered.

The 'Forever 21 Birthday Cake'

Wenny relayed her conversation to us. “What?! 7pm? This Jeff cannot control his wife!!” said Sabrina, horrified. Jien intercepted, “Haiya! When was the time any of the men in this room can control their wives?" The other guys looked at their wives and laughed. He added,"If we go visit with friends, everytime we said we want to go home you will say, 'waitttt.... a few minutes more... waiitttt'. The next thing we know, we will only leave after a week!" The guys laughed some more. "Yes, its true isn't it guys? They have those bonding things that they do with their girlfriends, catching up on midwives tales." Sabrina just laughed goodheartedly at her husband's remark.

"You will tell us, 'honey, I want to go and get a small vase for that shelf'. Next thing we know, I ended up adjusting half a forestry in my car!" Jien went on. "What's worse, you ask ME where in the house to arrange your jungle. How would I know, you said you just wanted a small vase." The living room was in an uproar, threatening the jeapordy of this surprise.

“You poor thing, I guess I can call you guys the members of WOOCC – Wife out of control club. But you know what guys, I think you can admit an Honorary Member because Vas is the only lady here who has to kao tow to her husband!!”
More laughter. Vas is very subservient and shy wife who has a shopaholic as a husband.]

Once the laughter subsided, Sabrina moaned, “Oh Nancy.. where are you”

“I think this is a reverse surprise. I think WE are being surprised by Nancy!” said I.

Suddenly, I saw the automatic gate opened. I quickly gestured to the kids to stop their laughing and chattering. Sabrina instantly got ready to cue us.

From inside we can see Nancy fussing with the key and turned to speak to her husband who was still in the car. As soon as she opened the door, all of us shouted a monstrous SURPRISE! and it startled her so much that she almost stumbled backwards!!

Don't run Nancy!

Nancy recovered swiftly and realized that it was HER surprise birthday party. She looked like as if she was going to cry. All of us took turn to wish and hug her. 5 of the ladies bought her a very handsome looking mahjong table and Nancy was clearly pleased.

It would be difficult to pull another surprise like this, with the husband being members of WOOCC!

Happy Birthday Nancy!

Mat Rempit

2009-05-10T20:24:00.000-07:00

Mat Rempit is what we call our illegal street racers in Malaysia. These terrors on 2 wheels are usually late teenagers on 80CC motorbikes racing illegally on highways, weaving their vehicle in and out of traffic usually in very dangerous manners. Recently, there has been an increase in snatch theft involving the Mat Rempit. Although a menace, I know one thing. These so call menace has to be shown a different life perspective than the one they are used to, to be recognised and to be loved. But, who is going to do it?

www.rindok.com

I am no friend to Mat Rempits. One crashed on my daughter and almost made her lost her vision. She ended up with 6 stitches just a millimeter above her lid. My nephew were beaten to pulp by Mat Rempits and spent 1 week in a comatose condition. It's a miracle he got out of it, despite his brain having swollen to twice it's size. So I am no friend of Mat Rempits...thats for sure..

However, I also know that most Mat Rempits comes from lower income households and they need an outlet to vent. I remember driving down to Kota Bahru on a Friday evening and seeing hundreds, nay, thousands of Mat Rempits by the road side all along the highway waiting to turned their Honda Cup into a Hayabusa. We cannot hate them... we have to do something about this problem. I am sorry my friends, I am a Mother and I cannot help but look at them as children who needs their parents' attention the best ever possible way they know how to, by being a delinquent.

www.nineoverten.com

The solution? I say have more racing circuits. Encourage them to race there and GOVERNMENT should appoint a special committee to hold weekly racing, discuss, plan, execute and maintain development programs. It is important that this will not be operated in such a way that it will be held down by too much bureaucracy. They just don't want to race, they want recognition that they exist. So give them the attention. There should be programs such as Rakan Muda infused so that this is also an educational program of some sort. Teach them how to repair motorbikes, get them excited by having competitions not only on racing tracks but competition on innovation, designs, new invention... the list go endless. This will create jobs for them and appease their souls.

Of course all these is only possible if GOVERNMENT sees that as a real problem and really WANT to do something about our future generation. They need to be heard, lets hope somebody is listening AND understanding what they are listening to.

Happy Mother's Day

2009-05-08T00:51:00.000-07:00

You know something is up when your child suddenly showers you with kisses. That's what happened today.

I picked her up as usual at the usual time. She entered the car, belted up and then fussed around with her bag, those little fingers fighting with the bag's zipper. She made tiny frustrated sounds and I tried to look at her via the rear mirror and asked, "What's wrong Darling?"

She said, "Nawphing (Nothing)"

A little while later we were at home and she finally got out what she wanted from the bag and came to me. I told her to change her school uniform but she refused. Instead she asked me to bent over and kissed me a few times. She then pulled out a crepe paper flower which she must have made at school today. It has a small heart on it with garbled written on it but to me it meant "I love you Mummy". I kissed my baby back, those tiny hands hugging me with so much conviction. She made my day!

To Sabrina, Wenny, Ruth, Nancy, Vas, Helen, Micke, Katherine, Joanne, Jo & Judith (Adelaide), Vinny (Perth), Adung, Aniza, Alex and all the mothers in the world - HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY.

Oh God!

2009-05-06T09:35:00.000-07:00

So here I am, wide awake after drinking Egyptian coffee, courtesy of Lim who shuttles to the country every time he finishes his 'supply' of brew. Since I don't have any new DVDs to watch, I decided to read my emails and saw this one by a friend about the following piece of news.

Secretary accidentally bites off boss’ penis A Secretary accidentally bit off the penis of her employer while giving him oral sex in a car. It was reported yesterday that while the 30-year-old woman was performing oral sex on the man, the car was hit by a reversing van. The impact of the crash, China Press reported, caused the woman to bite off her lover’s organ. The daily reported that the incident occurred in a Singapore park where the couple met after work. To make matters worse for the woman, her husband had sent a private investigator to spy on her after suspecting that she was being unfaithful. The investigator said he had followed the woman and her boss to the park. On reaching the park, they did not alight from the car. Not long after, the car started to shake violently. After the car was hit by the van, there was a loud scream from the woman whose mouth was covered with blood,” he said. The woman later followed her lover to the hospital with part of the sexual organ. The investigator, who called an ambulance to send the man to hospital, said that this was the first time he had encountered such an incident.

It didn't say if the 'part' was successfully re attached but as they say, 'no news is good news'. The friend who sent this news suggested that perhaps they have been 'impaled' by the wrath of God. What are the odds that a car would hit theirs and at the same time, there were being tailed by a PI?

So, taking my friend's train of thought in mind, I reflected back to Bruce AlMighty, that 2003 movie - which I happened to watch just yesterday. In the movie, it showed how Bruce had to deal with millions of prayers as a condition for taking the 'God' helm temporarily. He answered all the prayers with "Yes" resulting in everyone getting the prayers answered and that caused a massive chaos - all because he was too lazy to 'sieve' through the prayers. So that could be it and not really about being punished for a sin (Ina bit her lower lip.....)

According to the movie, anything that start with "God... " is termed as prayers. So going with that, these could have been the very prayers, albeit lacking conviction:

1. Boyfriend: "God, I hope we will have sex again today."
2. Girlfriend: "God, I love eating ........."
3. Husband of Girlfriend: "God, please show me the real truth about my wife"
4. PI: "God, please let me have 'the story' so I can charge the husband big money"
5. Van Driver: "God, I really want to take a shit!"
6. Car: "God, I need a new paint"

Well, I heard this sometime back, "ask and you will be given".....

The Boss Dilemma

2009-04-30T17:21:00.000-07:00

I listened emphatically when a friend complain about his boss being deaf and dumb. I replied, "Poor thing. Maybe he has something obstructing his ear hole and his wind pipe so that he cannot say anything coherent to you or hear you properly." Next thing I know, he wasn't there anymore. We were chatting on messenger where it is void of all crucial emotions such as humor. Well, not really, you can add the smileys and the "he he he" . Truth is, I was trying to make him see that there could be a possibility that maybe he has something to contribute to that.

Let's face it. When do we ever ever ever truly love our bosses? In my 17 working years, there was but 1 boss which I truly respect and admire and aspire to be but still there was a flaw in him. I will not go into details, suffice to say, bosses are also human at the end of the day.
I have had my share of a diabolical boss. He was short but shorter was his temper. Every time he flared up (almost literally), his face would turn strawberry red, his wide nostrils would flare not unlike a bull, a midget bull at that and worse, he would provoke you by pointing out your physical flaw, "I think your limp has effected your brain." He was the production manager and nobody of his 150 staff were spared his wrath. Normally it happened at the end of the month, when production quota had to be met or when he had a fight with his wife, over his mistress. Once his wife came to the office while he was entertaining his mistress in his locked room. Needless to say, the whole staff were walking on eggshells the whole week after that.

"I should fire you! But quite frankly I can have much more fun
if I keep you on and make your life a living hell."

That notion about female bosses being worse than male ones are all hearsay. Male bosses has worse PMS and they are more ruthless at getting even. When it comes to lady bosses, I would say I have been lucky so far. One particular lady boss was so nice, she offered to pay for my further studies. When I left the company, she became a good friend. Another one was so trigger happy and sloppy, I have to hand her a hanky everytime she was about to meet visitors. But she was adorable, always laughing and never took anything seriously, other than her job of course. However, she ran out of favor with the Big Boss when she played a prank on him... talk about serious humor!

Eventually, I became some sort of a boss myself albeit a small boss in a tiny company. Sitting in that chair made me look at things in a different perspective. The importance of accuracy and effectiveness is crucial to enable optimum production therefore resulting in high revenue - yeah.. whatever. How not to be upset at a stupid mistake? How to delegate effectively? How to harvest the best abilities of all your staff and translate that into synergy that will profit the company. Wah leooowww... my head was spinning.

I would like to be a likable boss but I doubt that is possible if I want my company to be successful. Perhaps I can find a mid way between diabolical-PMS ridden-breath down the neck and sloppy-unserious-jobless boss.

My New Gadget

2009-04-28T17:05:00.000-07:00

I am not gadget crazy or savvy like my sisters. I don't change my cellphone every 3 months. I use the very basic functions, calling, sms, phone book and sometimes browsing internet. I have 2 mobiles, not because I am kia-su but I like to segregate biz and personal calls. Its a bit of a hassle when I go out, to carry two mobile phones.

2 days ago while out to Econsave to get some vegetables for dinner, something made me look at the various displays that cluttered the entrance to the supermarket. There are the usual mainstream ones like Nokia, Sony and Motorola and then they are not so go-down-the-stream brands like Samsung, Apple and China phones. China phones are easy to discern, they have Chinese character keypads.....

Generally, I go with instinct. I do a sweeping gaze and see if anything catches my attention. One did. It has a very nice layout; something different and what’s more attractive was the price, RM499. The description says, “THL A1000 Dual Sim, TV, FM Radio, GPRS, Gold Detector (kih, kih)…” Well, wouldn’t it be good if it really can detect gold? Not bad, I thought. Usually, something like this by Nokia would costs nothing less than RM2k.

So, I stopped, asked the very friendly shopkeeper, Jimmy, where is this THL from, as normally brand is an indication of how reliable or durable this phone is. “This phone is produced under license for a Malaysian company in China”.

“Ah… Chinese phone,” I said, a bit skeptical now. “Any complains?” I asked, squinted my eyes at him, daring him to lie. He smiled and said, “So far no complains Sis. I have sold quite a few. There is a one year warranty. So if there is any problem, you can send it back to the manufacturer and get a replacement for free.” Hmm….. one year warranty, really? ”Quite a few eh?” He laughed good-naturedly and said, “5 units in the last 2 weeks” Well, given the location of that place, 5 is cool, I silently deduced.

The diamond cut really work wonders on the appearance and I was warming up to the phone. “What is this meaning, dual SIM?” He opened the battery panel and showed me, “If you have 2 numbers ie 2 SIM cards, you don’t need 2 cellphones, both the SIM can go in this phone, here,” Wahleooowww! 2 SIM one phone. This will solve my logistic problems. I was impressed but I suppressed the surprise. “So, what can this phone do, not that I am really gonna use the functions, coz I only call and send sms, “ said I looking at the tiny keypads. I put one finger on the keypad and it covered 2 buttons. This could be a problem, I thought. He saw this and reached into his drawer for something and came out with what looked like a small pen. “You can use this for message, don’t need to use the keypad. “ and he proceeded to show me the method. That was all good and nice except that the each letter on the screen keypad is no larger than a grain of white sugar.

Product Description

Dual SIM cards dual standby
Bluetooth
FM radio(can output voice)
E-book reader
MP4, MP3
TV player (Schedule TV record)
Support TF card extend to 8GB max
Quad-band(GSM850/900/1800/1900MZH)
Hand shaking function(change music, TV and turn over page by shaking)
Language: English/French/Spanish/Portugues/Italian/Greek

Features
1.2.6inch screen, 260k QVGA; PX: 240*320
2.500 group contacts
3. T-Flash Card Suphporting, 512MB TF for free, support to extend TF card to 8GB maximally
4.1.3 Mega pixel camera for Picture & Video capability, solomobi. COM test put out biggest size is 1280*960

5. Stereo Loud speaker, 64 chord ring tone
6. MP3 & MP4 player
7. GPRS & WAP connectivity, MMS Transceive
8. U disk support function to keep the information storage
9. Bluetooth
11. Calendar, To do list, Alarm, World Clock, Spotwatch
12. Caller picture, caller Ring Tone
13. Telephone directories: 500groups of contacts, support incoming call with big head sticker, group ring an Messages &Multimedia messaging: SMS, support MMS; Can use downloaded MP3 as SMS rings
14. Schedule power on/off: Support to start/close under set time
15. Alarm clock: 5 groups, support alarm clock when machine's closed, can set from Monday to Sunday
16. Games: 2 common games

Anyways, I thought to myself, the keypad is really not that bad. For the next 30minutes he showed me how to use the various functions on the phone which mimics Nokia’s functions and which I forgot as soon as I left the place. I traded in my Sony Cybershot and a Nokia 6080 for RM350 and got that mobile with extra 1Gb memory card for RM499. He even threw in a nice semi-leather holder.

I continued with my groceries shopping and went back to my car. Suddenly I received a message and I fiddled with the tiny keypads but couldn’t get the screen to unlock. After a few seconds, I looked out my window, contemplating if I should go back and ask Jimmy how to unlock this fast-becoming-dang-phone! I would have reached out for the manual but trouble is, I don’t read Chinese.

Finally with one grunt, I got out of the car, walked to Jimmy’s shop. After showing me what to do, he assured me that I would get the hang of it, as the functions are very similar to Nokia. What he don't understand, I never had an expensive function laden Nokia before, so it would be a while for me to champion this phone!

The first thing I did when I got home was went online and look for the manual in English, which thankfully I did get after some creative googling. The phone did what it is suppose to do and the sound system is da bomb! I would say that I am quite happy with it (Akak puas hati!) It still takes me several minutes to type in messages using the tiny typepad and I am afraid of some conflict with the dual SIM mode but so far so good. It really challanges my mind to work harder, to remember which is SIM A and SIM B but I still feel it is good. Change is good. (Consoling myself... after all for that bargain price, don't complain so much!)

While reading the manual this morning, which I printed out for easy reference, I thought, if only China have mastered English, the world would belong to her!

The Supernaturals

2009-04-26T16:20:00.000-07:00

Over the weekend, my sisters stayed over with Abah. Whenever we get around, we bond by watching our favorite series together. It’s a choice of Supernatural, Medium or Ghost Whisperer. Of course we tried to include some other series like True Blood but what sense does it make when 1/3 of the series is about people having sex? Chelsea Quinn Yarbro – the great vampire story writer would be insulted!

Image from http://1.bp.blogspot.com

So there we were clustered in all manner of positions in front of the tv in my room. Chay Chay lying diagonally across the bed so that she was watching upside down, Adung on the carpet lying on her side, Yani sat on the floor hugging her long legs, Nar ill-at-ease coz she is not used to watching tv – she’s been away too long studying - was changing her sitting position this way and that. Of course my youngest was in and out, watching Teebo and sometimes coming in to take a peek at the scary Supernatural.

Normally we would watch the latest series and then recap from 4 other earlier ones or sometime we choose our favorites. In the latest SN, Dean and Sam found out they have a brother, Adam who is a pre-med student. Turned out Dad John had one of them quickies that last for 9 months after that….and voila! encore Adam Winchester. As tall as Sam and missing his mother, Adam had called his father’s cell and for some unexplained reason, his cell was still working although John had died for almost a year. Curiosity got the better of Sam & Dean and they went up to see Adam.

Of course Dean, the skeptic made all manner of effort to ensure that this boy is not of them demons by slipping some holy water in the boy’s glass when he was not looking and swapping the cutlery to silver. Adam ‘passed’ the test and the boys started the search for the Adam’s mother. It turned out it was just a ruse from one of them bad ass ghoul to get even with John but since he has kicked the bucket, his kids would do. Apparently, ghouls are immune to holy water, silver and salt and the only way to kill them is by ol' fashion shot gun. All the time, the real Adam and his Ma were buried in an old crypt, long gone into oblivion.

Watching this series evoked something familiar in me. When I was around 8, my father brought me to see some people whom he later introduced as my half sisters, all six of them and one old grumpy lady, my so call step mom, although you can't really call her that when she's divorced with my dad right? Imagine having 9 girls altogether.

They didn’t give me any holy water or hold a comprehensive ritual to see if I am a demon, partly because I was already called that - compliments of my very adventurous nature when I was a child. Also big contributing factor, had they done anything like that, Mom was sure to turn them dear sisters into dearly departed! To their credit, they were nice to me, which lead my father to think that I should bond with them, get to know the root kinda thing, by sending me to stay with them over the weekends or school holidays.

I didn’t like it that much because they lived in a slum area of Port Klang, where they shit and throw their garbage in the same river that seemed to run behind everybody’s house. The stench was unbearable. This is the place where I learned that your feaces is very hot coming out of your body, coz I watched mine with steam emitating from it. I was always scared my bum would be snatched by a croc from the river but I rationalised, which croc would want to swim among the turd? When it rained, everybody was advised to stay on the higher part of the house because there is always possibility of the river overflowing. When that happens, you can see all kinds of garbage and very often big huge human turd. It was really an adventure of a new kind to me!

This is not the slum in Port Klang but it looked similar like this one. Notice all the plastic bags decorating the stilts? Classic ornament.
From http://yogisuprayogisugandi.files.wordpress.com

Now most of them have moved out from there, some did commandingly well and staying in better places. We still see each other; mostly during family dos, I give them respect by acknowledging them as the ‘ones before me’, although I can say they don’t really share my sentiment. My dad made it well with Mom and we lived in much better condition around the same time they lived in the slum. So I’m guessing there must be some kind of grudge there.

As I look at my own sisters around the room, I feel so lucky that none of them are demons from my father’s pass – if you know what I mean.

Pontianak

2009-04-25T06:54:00.000-07:00

Pontianaks are lady vampires endemic to South East Asia and people who had seen them always described them wearing long white robe, long hair without a distinctive feature and when provoked, show their fangs. Although their staple food are said to be blood and man's scrotum, they are no reports of death by these beings. What they like to do however, is tease and scare people to their death, and in my opinion, hence the white faced victims, as if all the blood had been drained from their bodies. They also prefer to inflict men with their brand of humor, as oppose to women. It is said that to deter the Pontianak, a woman just needs to strip into her birthday suit and the banshee will fly away with utter disgust and shame letting out a long shriek. Their two distinctive sounds are cries and laughter, both sounding almost the same. I once heard that eearie laughter while staying in a great auntie's house whose nearest neighbor was about a mile away. It is also said that if you hear a distant Pontianak laughter, it means they are just right next to you and vice-versa. Unless of course, they prefer to show themselves when they are laughing!

Writing about the earlier tale from Mom had reminded me of this very interesting one. There are many versions of how the Pontianak was 'made' but I like Mom's version.

A long time ago, in the land of my forefathers, there lived an old couple at the edge of a jungle. They were so poor they barely had enough to eat. However, their life was redeemed by their lovely daughter, Anggun, who has a beauty unmatched by any lass in the realm.

Once a week, this family will make a day’s journey to the market to sell what they could harvest from the jungle. Gradually, people in town noticed the girl and soon her beauty became famous.

One day, the son of a prominent man, paid a visit to her stall. Upon seeing her, the young man immediately fell in love and asked for her hand in marriage. Anggun’s parents agreed and in less than a month a grand wedding was held and Anggun stayed in the city with her new in-laws. Despite great persuasion her parents declined to stay with her and went back to their old home at the jungle’s edge.

Seven months past and Anggun is happily pregnant with her first child. Life couldn’t be any better but deep in her heart, she misses her parents very much. Anggun asked Andika if she could visit her parents and not being able to decline her anything, set upon a day’s journey to the edge of the jungle. Anggun’s parents were overjoyed to see her daughter again after a long time and happier still when they see that they will be grandparents soon. After making sure that she is in good hands, Andika left and promised to come pick her up after a week.

One night after a few days, her parents failed to come back after their trip to the jungle and Anggun was left alone in their hut. Something terrible happened during the night because when the old parents finally arrived the next afternoon, the hut was in a state of chaos. There was blood everywhere and all that was left of Anggun was her tattered clothes.

Feeling desperate, they were surprised to see Andika arrived. He explained that he was having a bad feeling and decided to come see Anggun. Upon seeing the hut, he went into a frantic search of his pregnant wife but to no avail. It was days before he finally gave up his search and accepted the fact that his wife has truly perished. The sad family performed the rituals for the departed and after that Andika persuaded the old parents to move to town.

One evening, about a month after that tragic incident, Andika was sitting outside his house when he heard someone sobbing. The sobbing seemed to be coming from a big tree. His aroused curiosity got the better of him, he walked towards that tree and the sounds grew louder. Andika looked up and what he saw next really stunned him.

On top of the tree, perched on one of the sturdiest branches sat an apparition of a woman with something that looked like a baby in her arms. She was wearing a long white robe, with long black hair but her face was not clear. Fear crept into him and he tried to move from the spot but suddenly was unable to do so, as if his body had frozen. Even his eyes were unwilling to avert itself from the specter. A million thoughts went through his mind on how to free him from the paralysis when suddenly he saw that the apparition slowly descended. Horror turned into longing when he saw that the specter was actually his beloved wife carrying a baby in her arms!

“Anggun! What happened to you? I have been looking everywhere for you. Why did you leave me? Why did you go?” a thousand questions escaped his lips as he was trying to make sense of what is in front of him. Slowly, he was able to move his limbs and reached out to her. She was cold to his touch.

“My dear husband, I am so sorry for what had happened. The night when my parents didn’t come back, a ferocious ghoul came to ravaged and devoured me. There was nothing I could do, nowhere to run. Because of what it did, I am now cursed to live this life with our baby as a pontianak,” cried the ‘Anggun’ mournfully.

Through his tears, Andika said, “but surely, there must be something that can be done?”

“There is something and I can show you. There is a hole at the back of my neck and if you can find a big nail and thrust it into the hole, I can become human again.”

Quickly Andika ran into his house to search for a big nail and a hammer and hurried back to the spot he left her. ‘Anggun’ then showed him the hole and with one mighty thrust the nail went inside the hole transforming her from a ghost to a human being. Andika got a smaller nail and did the same for his daughter.

From that day onwards, they lived as happy as any family. Alas, this bliss didn’t last. One day after a few years, Anggun was having her hair combed by her daughter when the child saw the nail poking out of her mother’s neck. “What is this mother?” asked the inquisitive child. “It’s nothing dear, just an old wound. Don’t touch it now or something very bad will happen to me,” said Anggun. A child will always be a child and curiosity got the better of her and she pulled the nail out. With this, Anggun wailed and turned into a pontianak again and flew up to a tree.

When Andika came home from work, he found his daughter crying. Alarmed, he asked her what happened and she told him of her erroneous mistake. He ran outside and looked for the same tree he found Anggun and true enough there she sat, waiting for Andika.

“Common dear. Come on down. I will put the nail back to where it is supposed to be,” coaxed Andika.

“No dear, I cannot do that now. I was given only one chance to change into a human and now it is too late to do anything else. And now you have to lead your life with our daughter,’ moaned ‘Anggun’.

With those last words, she flew off, letting out a banshee-like shriek into the night, never to come back again. That is why, many men in those days kept big nails in hope to 'catch' a Pontianak bride.

Why Do Pig Have Snouts?

2009-04-25T02:22:00.000-07:00

Growing up, Mom regaled us with her native stories, usually while we were plucking her grey hair. She knew pretty well it is not our most favorite thing to do so she told us stories to divert our attentions. Mom was an accomplished story teller and the tales she told were original, nothing you can read from the books as these are tales from the tribe of Banjar, an ethnic race originated from Banjarmasin, Kalimantan (Borneo). Of course I don't do her story justice because certain words are just not translatable but I will try my best. One of them stories were “Why do pigs have snouts?”

Once upon a time, pigs do not have snouts. They have ordinary noses, just like cows, goats and other farm animals. How they got it? This is how.

Before circumcisions among women started, women carried with them that extra part on top of their clitoris and it is called the 'beak'. Just so happened, there was a beautiful virgin so very famous her beauty. Nobody knows this maid carried with her a most dreadful secret. Her secret is that her beak possesed a very efficient lingual ability, meaning, it could talk. Everyday, that part of her anatomy exercised its 'mouth' by having verbal diarrheas, talking about everything under the blessed sky, sometimes making fun at people and serious situations. “Oh! What weird looking baby you have! Did you have sex with a cow?” said the talking genitalia. Imagine how offended the proud mother was to hear such a comment and how impossible it is for the virgin to redeem the situation, since nobody would believe that it was her beak that uttered those wretched words. Incidents such as that mortified the virgin to a stage where she gradually became a recluse. With each day, the virgin was growing tired and it was taking a toll on her beauty.

One day, while taking a bath in the river, the virgin decided to force free herself from her predicament by ‘cutting off’ the said part. With a gleaming blade in her hand she walks into a river and carried out her deed and let the current take the beak away. “Oh my poor self. Nobody wants me. I am but a lonely and broken object! Oh dear.. look at that hideous woman with her funny teeth!!! Oh my poor self! Somebody help!!!” moans the beak, sometimes breaking into her usual criticism when she saw something that interest her and continued with her howling afterwards. Everytime it hit the a rock or a drifting wood, it would shout, "Hees Tung Keer!" (and Mom would laugh her ass off as it is something hilarious that one utters in the native tongue when surprised, maybe same like Crickey! just more funnier).

Picture from http://www.ridingpassion.com

This continued until one day, the current brought the beak to a part of the river frequented by a prince. He was in the river taking a bath when suddenly; he felt something had stuck itself on his face. He touched his face and realized that his nose had suddenly grown big. “Oh dear! What is this! I caught a demon from the river and its stuck on my face!” cried the prince in horror. “No dear prince,” giggled the beak. “It is just me, your true companion and we will be together forever and ever,” says the beak coyly. Imagine the prince’s terror by this remark and the prospect of having a woman’s beak on his face. He rushed for a mirror and saw a beak on his face! Of course anybody could see that it is a part of a clitoris and he was so mortified not just because of the extra flesh he is carrying now but more so because the beak crooned to him.

"Oh! What a lovely darling you are, I love you, I love your face. We will be together forever and ever!" the beak let out a ghastly melody that horrified the Prince.

Because he was a Prince, witch doctors were called, doctors were consulted, even a midwife was sent to eradicate the problem but no one dared to do anything as the beak, now smarter, threatened everyone with the Prince's death, should she be removed. So, the prince carried his predicament with him and a special face cover was fashioned so that the Prince can still go out. However, that was becoming limited as the beak refused to go easy on the saucy remarks it was making and the Prince stayed more and more indoor. This is such a big predicament as he is soon to ascend the throne. Which dignified King can have 2 mouths counseling his subjects. Not to mentioned 2 different opinions on any given matter.

This went on until one day; the prince thought maybe he can reason out with the ‘beak’. So he said, “My darling, I think I had enough of wearing this cover. I should proclaim that you are my one and only love to the whole kingdom and should not cover you. However, I need to clean my face reasonably and I need to put you down for a few moments. We don't want the whole kingdom to see a filthy Prince now, do we? Please say you will endure a short parting for me, say yes, my darling?", coaxed the Prince.

For the first time, the beak was quiet. Who would have thought a small anatomy has a brain too. Then it said, “but if I detach myself, you will not have me anymore,” said the beak. “No, no, no… I will never dream of doing that, I promise. Once I have my face cleaned, I will take you back and put you back at your rightful place, ok?” persuaded the prince while he caressed the beak lovingly .

Reluctantly, the beak released itself from it’s death-hold and let the prince place it down. We all know what happened after that right? The prince scampered with all his strenght and speed like there was no tomorrow. The beak quickly regreted her action and started crying. “Oh I will never talk again. I have learnt my lessons. The next person I attached myself to will not throw me away!” it howled in anger and dismay. Just so happened, a pig was sniffing around for food the very place where the beak was. By instinct, the beak quickly attached itself on the pigs face and that is how a pig has snouts.

Meanwhile, it is proclaimed throughout the kingdom that virgins will have to have their ‘beaks’ removed to prevent such degrading situations, even if their beaks don't talk.

It was all fun and laughter when Mom told us but sometimes I wonder, this particular beak must have been humungus if the pig snout is as big as the above!! Would have been better for it to be cut off, in my opinion... hahahaha

Black Is In

2009-04-23T03:45:00.000-07:00

I just had to smile at this. Bobby sent it to me. He sends me
hilarious emails but this one really tops it all. No disrespect
intended. You will understand what I mean once you get
to the end.

The most powerful politician in the world is Black.

The head of the Republican National Committee is Black.

The best known media mogul on earth is Black.

The greatest golfer in the world is Black.

The top female tennis players in the world are Black.

The highest grossing actor worldwide is Black.

The fastest racing driver in the world is Black.

The brightest Astrophysicist under the sun is Black.

The Superbowl-winning Head Coach is Black.

The most successful brain surgeon in the world is Black.

The fastest human on the planet is Black.

... Michael Jackson must be kicking himself.

Happy Birthday Wenny

2009-04-22T15:46:00.000-07:00

In the end, its not the beauty that lasts, but the beautiful impression. Did I say that? Sometimes, on those very blue moon days, I say something that makes sense, something profound, not always babble and normally I am oblivious about it until much later, usually while biting my nails. However, after all that sugar and spice about how profound it is, I am not responsible about the way I got inspired - errr... which normally have something to do with food.

Anyways, I am not here to talk about my mimicking Yoda. Au contraire. I have great tidings to share.

Last week we were at Secret Recipe, celebrating Wenny’s birthday. Wenny is not the youngest in our group but she could rival any kid at being a kid. She loves teddies, Mickeys, Minnies, small delicate items and she has a very child-like wittiness about her that cracks us up all the time. Earlier on, all 8 ladies, at the height of their biological prime, ran helter-skelter to Sabrina’s house and hid, albeit pantingly in her storeroom to surprise the very cunning Wenny. Imagine an impala stampede and you will have the idea. She could always smell a plot and we wanted to play out her smartness one up. We hid, and we giggled like 8year olds, fully aware how silly we looked, huddle in the small opening of the storeroom, chin to chin.

Speedy Ruth, our Chief Conspirator. In an interview/post mortem later, we asked why she picked Wenny up earlier than time, she answered, 'Ughh.. I didn't know what to do lah..excited!"

Of course our conspirator, 'speedy’ Ruth - who was suppose to play out a ploy about doubling up to collect something she forgot from Sabrina - picked Wenny up earlier than schedule and that contributed to the panic in Sabrina’s house. She arrived ahead of the 10am schedule and 7 very excited ladies shouted “surprise!” to her. Helen came a little later and we shouted HER a surprise!!! I have a feeling Wenny knew about it somehow but she good naturedly played along and looked surprise anyways.

A new menu at Secret Recipe - 9 precision cut Shepperd's pie.

My source of inspiration, the beautiful cheese layer brownie and cheese and apple layer square efficiently cut into 9 tiny squares. Friends that cares, shares....

She was then showered with hugs, kisses and well wishes. We actually planned to open her presents at Sabrina's because we knew Secret Recipe doesn't open until 1 hour later. She liked most of the presents and then some. Mikê got her a very cute glittery Mickey Mouse shirt and she put that on immediately. Sabrina gave her two lipsticks and she put that one on too. She would have put on the small Masai warrior Kat gave her if not for she didn’t know what to do with the little spear! I gave her a small Lulu Belle that looked something like this, with her name braids on it.

Lulu Bag

The Gang

At 11am, we drove to Secret Recipe. The ladies insisted on ordering one bowl of each food and share among us. It was like a small buffet. I saw some very nice brownies that had a cheese layer and ordered that. It was efficiently cut into 9 pieces to be shared by 9 robust ladies. We also ordered apple cheese layer which was also cut into small pieces. In my opinion, that was the most delicious food we ate that day. Although it didn’t as beautiful as a Chocolate Banana Cake or a Marble Cheesecake or a Mango Layer Cake, it had all the ingredients that made me happy, I didn’t mind the small piece. Of course we ordered another 2 pieces after that, for good measure.

Wenny: ♫ When you wish upon the cake ♪.....

The cheesecake was brought in after we finished all the other food and the song was sung. Wenny wished and blew the candle and that wrapped up our celebration. Right after that, all the 'taxi-drivers' dispersed back one by one into our daily schedules which was pleasantly interrupted by this happy celebration.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY WENNY!
….and Wenny, happy birthday Gurrll…

The Lure of Ice

2009-04-21T17:59:00.001-07:00

I was rummaging through some old pics and I stumbled into this one. It shows Pipin, my youngest daughter at about 18months old, with a concerted effort face, drinking ice cold chocolate - when she wasn't suppose to.
Pipin: Come on, come on, I need to see the bottom before Mama turn around!!!

We were at Ayer Hitam, Johore , visiting kin. I remember, we made a pitstop to have something light and go to toilet. Generally Pipin is banned from taking anything too sweet, food or drink. Somehow she quietly snatched the drink from the dashboard while I turned around to speak to my sisters at the back seat. My sister who saw the whole thing kept quiet until Pipin finished half a container of the drink! Sis even took pics of it. Whatever I was talking about to the other sis must have been too mind averting because I only realized Pipin's deed after she finished it! Thank goodness for diapers.

Pipin: Ahhhhh! What a relief.....♫ Nothing you can do now Mama ♪

When I look at this pics, I thought to myself, they grow up too fast!

Hanoi, Vietnam

2009-04-21T16:31:00.003-07:00

I had the chance to travel to Hanoi, Vietnam sometime in February 2009 with Lin, to survey the city for an upcoming event. The season has just broke into spring and everywhere the trees are flowering. It was slightly still cold, especially at night but I didn't mind. It was like walking in an airconditioned room- nice!

The first day we arrived around 7pm. As soon as I walked out of the baggage claim and immigration area, there were so many limo services waiting. Their charges were 300,000 to 400,000 Dong which is around USD16 to USD20 which I think was propesterous. Lin called Giang, a local girl which she met during Malaysian Salsa Festival and she told Lin that the fare is around 200,000 to the city centre. So, we walked out of the airport to the awaiting taxies. They were all quite new and spacious and got a taxi that agreed 200,000 to travel anywhere in the city.

After driving about 15mins, we entered into a small town. There were traders selling peach blossom trees by the road side and I thought they looked lovely. The taxi driver said something to us in what sounded distantly like English and he stopped the car. He got out, crossed the road to the other side and bought some peach blossoms. I looked at Lin and she muttered under her breath in Malay, "do you know that Vietnam is notorious for women kidnapped, raped and murdered by taxi drivers?" I looked at her calmly and said, "But there is two of us and one of him. We can do lots more damage should he try something coz we will be ready."

We watched him across the road and when he picked up a plant, we realized that he stopped to make a purchase of the cherry blossom! Both of us looked at each other and started laughing. "Oh!" I said, "he wants to buy the tree".

He got back in the car and after about 10 more minutes stopped in front of an old building. He turned to look at us at the backseat and said, "My home." We nodded and at this point, I thought the whole thing was very amusing and began to laugh. I mean, only in Vietnam you get a taxi driver that takes you shopping with him!! I think he was offended because after that he drove very quietly until we arrived to the hotel. On the internet, this is the picture I got of Asia Hotel:

Asia Hotel, Old Quarter, Hanoi

When it truth the Asia Hotel is smacked in the middle of shophouses not unlike this one. I should have taken some pictures of the place to put it here!

One of the streets in Old Quarter Hanoi with its old world charm.

View from the back window of the Hotel Asia, OQ Hanoi

Some floors were even closed for some demolition exercise. Did I say demolition? Oh.. I meant renovation.A typical home in OQ Hanoi

One of the first thing I notice about Hanoi or perhaps Vietnam is the painting of girls in their national costume (Au Dai) from the back. Almost all the hotels or public places I went to, has a wall hanging of their girls from the back, wearing Au Dai. Maybe this is to show that their girls has retained the old world coyness.

That night, after freshing up, I went out to a place called My Way for Salsa. The crowd was mainly young people and they only pay USD2 for drinks and they can dance until 11pm. The government impose a very strict policy. Right on the dot at 11pm, the place closed up. I realized that the Vietnamese are very subservient people, that first night. One of the most happening disco/clubs in Hanoi is The Opera. This place is frequented by foreigners mostly and is the water hole of (reputed) some of the most influential people in Hanoi.

The next day, we went to Sheraton, Hanoi. This hotel is a very nice property indeed. From its room, we saw a beautiful view of the West Lake, one of the biggest lakes in Hanoi. This is a big lake in inner Hanoi covering an area of hundreds of hectares and the road around it is ten and a half miles long. Geographers have shown that the lake was once part of the Red River left behind when the river changed its course.

View of West Lake from Sheraton Hanoi

After that, the famished duo decided to try out Vietnamese cuisine. Not far from Sheraton, there is a very nice restaurant called, Hai San Ngon Restaurant. It was a perfect place to eat, with the right ambiance.

Hai San Ngon Restaurant, 199A, Ngi Tham Street.

After a scrumptious dinner, we went out to explore the city. We went shopping in Dong Xuan Street, a famous street for its variety of goods and affordable price. You can make the traditional Vietnamese constume for USD25 in one day! For men, one can pick a collection of 'designers' tie for only USD3. There was a nightmarket and it looks just like any other night market except for the small food stalls by the side of the building flanking the night market road. In fact, these stalls are a common scene in Hanoi. The stalls usually serve scalding hot noodle soup with meatballs or chicken and they sit on a very low stool and low table. They also eat very fast, so the turn over is very good.

Street Restaurant, Dong Xuan Street, Hanoi

The only thing we are a bit afraid of about Hanoi is the traffic. In Hanoi, motorbikes doubles up as a minivan, carrying the whole family at any one time. Usually, Daddy would have a child sitting in the basket in front, then there is one child between Daddy and Mommy and one baby, held expertly by Mommy. There seemed to be an understanding between pedestrian, motorcyclist, bicyclist and other four wheels in that, nobody will be knocked down crossing the street, however careless you are. A car can make a u-turn in the middle of the city roads with gazillion motorbikes coming from both ways and everybody understood this action and no mishap will happen. Once, coming back from a sightseeing, I saw cock fighting game in the middle of the city's main highway. On another occasion, a full grown man, stood at the road side and took a piss and everybody just ignored him. I guess its their way of life there.

One of the best eating place I found in Hanoi is Quan Ngon Restaurant. It is essentially a foodcourt with many choices of food. Set up by the same people who started Hai San Ngon, this place clearly caters for locals and foreigners alike as it is quite clean as oppose to the rest of the eateries in Hanoi. I didn't take a picture but you can get fried baby quill here. Vietnamese basically eat lots of vegetables, beef and soups. There is a special type of raw vegetable which I didn't get the name which is taken with a special sauce and that was delicious. The sauce needs acquiring a bit but once you get used to the pungent taste, you get addicted to it!

Quan Ngon Rest, 18, Pan Boi Chin Strt

We went home after 3 days in Vietnam. On the way the airport, I snapped some pictures of bungalows and the paddy field. This time our taxi driver did not stop anywhere and we got there in 15minutes flat.

Bungalow Houses on the way to the airport.

Paddy field on the way to airport

Perth, Australia

2009-04-21T16:30:00.000-07:00

Perth from River Tay

I have always been fond of Perth. The first time I went to the windy city was for an exhibition on Tourism Malaysia. The year was 1999. I only got the chance to travel down to Freemantle on that visit because it was a working trip. When Vinny my friend settled down there, there was more reason to revisit the place. What I like about the city is the weather of course, very temperate and that is very important for my hair cause it stopped being frizzy.

Pipin & Mama unfrizzy hair

Downtown Perth

The town has many Asian stores, Asian restaurant – name any type of food you want, Indian, Punjabi, Chinese, Thai, Vietnamese, Mid East – they have it. However, as a person who is so used to a city’s hustle bustle, I was a little disappointed as the city ‘closes shop’ at 6pm. I find that everywhere you travel in Australia, people like to stay in after dark. They don’t really hangout like Malaysians do.

We have mamak corners that operates for 23 hours. 1hour is for cleaning up or maybe shower time, although which 1 hour in the day they use is very dodgy because the place looks like they have not been clean at any time and the workers BO is…indescribable!

Vin's house in Jacaranda Valley

So that time, we took toddler Pipin with us. It was in June and we’d never thought the winter would be so cold. There was frost even in some place. Pipin with her limited vocab shouted “soooo colddd” one morning when a gush of wind blew on her.

Pipin having breakfast in our apartel

When we arrived, Vin and Steve came to pick us up at the Perth airport. I am always astounded as how smooth traffic is in Australia. I must say the Australian drivers are very well mannered. They don’t cut queue or use the emergency lanes to move faster. Once we checked into the apartment hotel (has cooking facilities), we went out to hire a car and waited for Steve to come pick us up. They live in a suburban area called Jacaranda Springs, near High Wycombe. We had dinner at her home that first night. As it got dark after 6, we excused ourselves at 8pm. The first night was terrible. The normally hot Pipin was huddling with me, feeling cold I had to wear for her all her warm clothing because she couldn't stand the cold.

The second day we went to AQWA to see the ‘puussshh” (fish). Pipin loves the marine world and it was a real treat for her. Outside AQWA, you can easily hire a boat and watch dolphins we were told but did not want to take the risk because it was too windy that day.

After spending about half a day there we drove back to the city and went to Kings Park . This Park was initially named Perth Park and renamed to its existing name to mark the ascension to the British throne of King Edward VII. We were not used to just sitting down at a park because if you have a toddler you just can’t sit but gawk at people who did the 'park' thing, lying down, reading, having picnic etc. There was a tree that was more than 200 years old situated at the centre of the main area. Another one was planted by the then Princess Elizabeth. It was so calm and serene.

Perth from Kings Park

The next day we went to a vineyard in the Swan Valley. The place has an old French feeling about it. We didn’t spend much time there, left early for a dinner party at Vin’s.

The Cheves Estate Vineyard's Souvinir Shop

Next day, we went to Freemantle. I love the place because there are many fish and chips shops and has many touristy stuff. Of course, I went to the wet market and got myself some very nice cheese and fresh fish to be cooked in our apartel. While walking around in their wet market, we met with a nice Malaysian lady who sells nasi campur! She had nasi lemak, mee goring, masak lemak and all the other authentic Malaysian cuisine. Of course we stayed for the the tarik! Oh and did I tell you, the Australians take their the tarik without sugar? Even their Milo don’t have sugar in it, tasting more like cocoa then Milo.

Australians, other than the fisherman or the fish monger, don’t clean their fish. So, you get all these fish flesh, debone, no head, no tail, not look like fish and no fun! But they’ve got plenty of big fish there and that was big fun. You can get marinara mix, with prawns, huge squid rings, salmon and sole for AUD9.90/kg. That was cheap! We took to Vin’s and I made sambal, Indian curry, thai curry and just fry them with vegetables.

Steve took us to Rockingham the next day to see his friend who were there for the weekend with their caravan . This family is unique because on top of their 3 kids, they have a kangaroo as a pet. Susan’s children wore diaper for the 2.5 metre tall baby Kangaroo so he won’t litter around. Gives a new meaning to toilet training. Our cam was acting out so we didn’t get a shot of the Roo.

The third day was spent in the city only, sightseeing and souvenirs shopping. After 5 days of coldness, I must say I was glad to go home. My skin was developing cold rashes and I wonder how Vin acclamatised herself with the weather. At the airport, I decided to look for a small item, something Australian, last minute shopping for a friend. Let me warn you, nothing at the airport is Australian made.

Years ago, Mama sat on the same Swan. Like Mother like daughter!

Tres Lock

2009-04-21T16:27:00.000-07:00

Besides being a mom, working, a chef-cum-driver-cum-counselor -cum-bibik-cum-fashion consultant-cum-bank-cum-trouble shooter-cum-ustazah-cum-no-cum, I am also much sought after in the west klang area, particularly the most western part near sungai klang, particularly at my patriarchal home for my expertise for trouble shooting.

This morning my sis called me sounding quite exasperated.

Sis: Long, I need help.

Me: (Panic rising, dad has been feeling a bit under the weather) Wassap?(Very serious)

Sis: Err... don't laff ok. I am stuck.

Me: You stuck? (Exhaled in relief and mind racing of what the possible problem be. She did say don't laff. She never call me in the morning before going to work)

Sis: I need you to pick my kids and dad coz I won't be able to send them to you. (We made plans to park unwell dad in my house along with my nephew and niece) So, can you come and pick them up. I am running late.

Me: You said you are stuck...why?

Sis: Getting to that lah... this morning I wanted to curl my hair, suddenly it got stuck around the curler and now I cannot take it out. I have tried everything, put cooking oil, tried pulling - very painful lah, dunno what to do. Asked Lynda to come and help me here. She will come soon but I won't be able to send them to you. Not enough time.

Me: Ohhh... sure. No problem. So, Lynda gonna come and help you untangle the hair?

Sis: Yeah. I cannot cut the dang thing, it is too close to the scalp and you know lah.. I just did rebonding 2days ago. My hair is so flat now, if I cut this chunk of hair, I would look Mrs Spock.... boo hoo hooo... (she moaned. At that my laughter just burst!)

Me: Hahahahaha... why were you trying to curl it? I thought you wanted straight hair?

Sis: Yeah. But I want a little curl on the front, only a little.

Me: Muahahahahaha... well, let me tell ya.. that is your hair retaliating to your antics. So fickle. One day want straight hair, next day want curled hair. Your hair also became hairfused!

Sis: Urrggghhhhh... ok ok ok lah... I learnt my lesson.

I called her 15mins later and I could hear Lynda trying to attempt some miracle maneuver to release the tangled hair.

Me: Hello? How is the antifusing getting along?

Sis: I think it is getting worse

Lynda in the background: Sis, this one cannotlah.. you definitely have to cut it. It is stuck too close to scalp.

Sis: Alaaaaaaa....ahahahahaha (almost crying) Gondol lah aku!!!

Me: Ok ok ok.. don't cry, I will come now and pick Abah. You hang on... see what we can do.

20mins later I arrived and went straight to her room. There she was hunched in a corner, her face shining with cooking oil, not unlike my indian neighbor on Deepavali morning, a pathetic picture of a woman defeated by the very implement she relies on to make her stand out in the crowd. I cannot help but laughed out loud... maybe too loud for her dented ego coz she shot me daggers.

Me: Haiyooo.. don't lah look so pathetic.. let's see what's the damage. (I went over to her and inspect her hair, now a messy ball of tress with a RM2.50 curler as it's nucleus. I gave my prognosis) Eh, have to cut lah... but botak a bit lah... can or not?

Sis: Alaaaaaaaaa ....(she wailed)

Me: Ok ok... I think our Lynda has managed to make this worse but I think I can entangle it. But have to take time lah haaa... you have to be the host of your company's open house kan? How?

Sis: Already called office.. and another manager is going to host until I come. I dare not tell what happened. I know they will laugh at me.

Me: (Giving her a surprise look) Oh.. you think?

Sis: (Shot me another dagger)

Me: (Sniggered) Right, let's get going.

I sat down on a comfortable sofa, armed with a hair clip, slowly and methodically let go of each strands. Despite my best effort, some hair had to be cut off. After about 30mins, she got up, the wretched curler in her hand, a look of resolute vengence on her face (I don't want to be that curler) and marched to the bathroom. Err... till writing time, I don't have to tell you that the curler is now arwah curler. She was only 1hour late and went on to be a host like a champion.

All in a day's job!

I remember another incident involving hair. Siti is a good snoozer. Too good that she woke up one morning with patches of hair missing from one side. Horrified, she tried to remember the night before. She scanned the room to help her recollect and there beside Alicia, she saw a small scissors with tell-tale trails of hair, the very culprit that have caused her a fashion faux-pas. As her memory refreshed, her bp rising up steadily with it, she look at her sleeping girl. The night before, just before she went to sleep, Alicia had come to her and said, "Mommy, you go to sleep ok? I will comb your hair, ok?". Too tired and disinterested in anything else but slumberland (yes, the mattress and the realm) she just nodded and said, "Ok ok.. you comb mummy's hair ok. Then you go sleep ok?" What she didn't see was perhaps, the tools of trade was already drawn at the time of Siti's approval to restructure her tress, oblivious to sleepy Siti. How can a 3year old turn down such an enticing offer?

Next morning, Siti hysterically called her sisters, my sister and me. She would have called all the sisters in the world if she had their numbers too. Of course instead of getting sympathy, she was admonished for being too careless with her sharp items. She dared not call her hubby but then changed her mind, complaining Alicia's mischiveousness which was often encouraged by him. No luck there! Instead, joined by her husband who was at the time traveling, we laughed at her until kingdom come. She didn't talk to us for the next 1month, I promise you!

So moral of both stories, don't take your hair for granted. You don't know when it would get it's PMS.

Finding Lurrrvvvv

2009-04-21T16:22:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, you wake up in the morning with a debilitating hangover but you know that it is not brought on by intoxicating beverages or high bp. Uncertainty, exasperation and sheer boredom could impose itself with such symphtoms and it leaves you with such void emptiness, it erodes life's zest . Questions pop up in mind, why am I going through this voyage still alone?

Then again, there are people who asks themselves this very question day in day out and the years advances without them noticing it, one gets frozen to the time when the thought first emerged - as depicted below.

——— Woman, 107, not giving up on love ———–

CHONGQING, China - A 107-year-old woman in the Chinese city of Chongqing says she is looking to get married for the first time in her life. Wang Guiying said at her advanced age she is growing increasingly concerned that time is running out on her chance at finding a husband, The Sun (Britain) reported Monday. “I’m already 107 and I still haven’t got married,” Wang said. “What will happen if I don’t hurry up and find a husband?” Wang said finding an ideal mate would also allow her to become less of a burden to her family members, who she says have their own familial concerns to focus on. “My nephews and nieces are getting older and their children are already tied up with their own families and I am becoming more and more of a burden,” she said. The Sun said Wang does have at least one prerequisite for a potential hubby. She requires any potential suitors to be at least 100 years old.

It is a choice and a lot of luck. Some people just don't care what destiny had installed for them and go make one for themselves. So ladies, I wish you LUCK in finding and more importantly KEEPING the man of your dreams.

Alam Shah Palace

2009-04-21T14:32:00.000-07:00

Road leading to the Palace from the old administrative center .

The entrance to Alam Shah Palace.

After a long time, I had the opportunity to drive through the Alam Shah Palace, located in the hilly south of the royal town of Klang. All the roads are one way now. I remember standing at that very spot whispering my last prayers to the late Sultan Salahuddin of Selangor while the funeral rites were taking place inside the palace in 2001. The palace looks as immaculate as it was since I can remember.

According to "Klang - Royal Town of Selangor", Istana Alam Shah is the Sultan of Selangor's official palace. It is from here that His Royal Highness carries out his official duties as Sultan and ceremonies involving the Selangor royalty. The palace is located in the south of the royal town of Klang, Malaysia. Local mongers told me that because this palace is pretty much unoccupied, voices of a ceremony can be heard at night. Those who try to enter with malicious intentions can find themselves flung out of the palace grounds, allegedly by the unseen forces that guards the palace.

Apparently, the original palace is the one above, called Makhota Puri Palace. It was built in the year 1889 to replace Alaeddin Palace (Bandar Palace) in Jugra as the Royal Administrative Center. The Sultan of Selangor at that time, Sultan Alaeddin Suleiman Shah dwelled in this palace in 1903. When the Sultan died in 1938, Tengku Alam Shah was inaugurated as the new Sultan. It was during this time Mahkota Puri was demolished to be replaced with Alam Shah Palace. The new palace was built on the same site as Mahkota Puri in the year 1950. Source: Gone but not forgotten.

Haiya... what a shame eh.. the old palace looks really pretty to me.

Just beyond the palace, sits the Royal Klang Club. According to the official website of the Club, it was founded in 1901, at the present location, for the purpose of the social and recreational activities of the colonial members mainly British and European civil servants and businessmen. At that time, Klang Club consisted of the old main building. This consisted of a hall including lounge area, and an office, small dining area, bar and billiards room downstairs.

Upstairs there were a few guest rooms, a stage and a small theatre capable of seating about 100 people. The theatre was used for staging plays especially during Christmas and concerts by visiting artists. I can imagine the splendour of the club those days, built in the middle of lush foliage, with wood window frames all around the building to promote ventilation. Even as I stood there taking the picture, the place was so windy. Now of course, it is all boarded up and fixed with airconditioning system and I cannot imagine the amount of dust from the road side, if it is not boarded up!

These two places lay smacked in the middle of the hustle bustle of the Klang town but yet isolated that it provides a very quiet and tranquil atmosphere. Now, big bungalows were erected outside the palace area on the other parts of the hill.

Ghost Of Diabolical Past

2009-04-19T14:02:00.000-07:00

I have not met Auntie Jamie for ages. She is one of those people I try to avoid at all bearable causes due the 'bitter-sour' blotches she imprinted in my clean-white-sheet memory as a child. Her very image conjures a demon-like fear in me. Standing at 5'7", built with 'endurance' as the tagline, she comes complete with V-Tech sound system, a slicing acidic sarcasm, a temper faster than the speed of light and a perpetual grim malice. Ok ok ok.. maybe I painted a picture of wicked witch of Eastwick when I think of her but a 4year old can't help it, can she? She scared the wits out of me and judging by the sentiment above, she still does. This woman was not only nasty to young children but to almost everyone that had the unfortunate luck to make her acquaintance.

Suddenly about a month ago, I got an invitation to her wedding. Well, not to me but to Auntie Mama - her cousin but as Mama had nobody to drive her there, I had to. Apparently the old spinster is marrying an oil rich Arab and moving to Singapore afterward. She must be almost 60.

Growing up without your parents is not easy. Naturally a very affectionate child, I was always hugging people and innocently gullible. My parents had to go to work and I had to stay with Nan. Auntie Jamie is one of Nan's nieces and she has 3 other sisters who ignored me at best and 2 other brothers who were as diabolical as she was. Nan would take me to their house sometimes just for a visit as they were practically neighbors and that's when the torture ensued.

While most people who met me found me adorable, somehow AJ and Uncle Sharif (her youngest brother) found fault in everything I did or said. I could never win with them. She called me names until I cried, pinched me, told malicious stories of how my parents abandoned me and so on. Her brother would hang me upside down on the ceiling beam for speaking up to her. Another time they locked me in the outhouse for reasons incomprehensible to a 4year old. I shouted and cried but they left me there until Nan came to my aide, after she realized I was missing. Of course they got a tongue lashing from dear ol' Nan but that didn't stop them. They also used derogatory remarks against my mother's ethnicity – Banjar, calling her jungle people and other hurtful names. If I cried and threatened to tell Nan, they would reverse the threat to a much scarier one complete with promises that it would be worse the next time I see them. I was not the only kids they subjected to those nasty acts. My playmates were a couple of Indian Muslim kids and I remember Ibrahim being hung from the same ceiling beam if he wouldn't call himself 'keling'. He cried all the way home and never came back with me to that house.

I could never find a reason why she found me so annoying. Maybe, a contributing factor was her father, "Tok Janggut", who adored me. He used to smooch me all over my face every time I visit and then rub his subtle beard on my face, afterward observing his handy work on my reddened face and laughed heartily. Tok Janggut was quite a man, he fought in the Klang civil war along side Tengku Kelana and has a set of 7 'flying' kris.

So, there I was on that Sunday morning, dragged by Auntie Mama to go to AJ's wedding. As soon as we arrived, we were ushered to the bride's room where we'd wait until it's the time for nikah ceremony. I didn't know what to expect but there I was ripe with hope that time will change things. There she was, sitting in front of the vanity table, with all the demureness she could ill-master, looking as resplendent as her reception's marquee. I shouldn't be unkind – I kept reemphasizing that to myself even as I had those thoughts and decided that what's passed is past. I must be the greater person who bestows on her the kindness which eluded her and that bully brother of hers.

That's when she saw me and greeted me, "Huh! Ada anak Banjar ni?" (Well, here is the Banjar kid) complete with raised brows and a crooked mocking smile. That one sentence, sealed the deal. Instantly, I felt the old dread running its cold clammy tendrils up my back. I wanted to get out but instead, mustering all the composure I have left, I went over to her, smiled took her hand, kissed it. I summoned all the Zen calmness from my shrinking universe and reached Yoda-like status in seconds, acting like it didn't affect me at all, when inside I felt like strangling her with her wedding veil. I could very well do that, I am younger and stronger than her now. Instead, I was very adamant to fight the conditioned fear by appearing not perturbed at all. It was all I could do not to cause a scene by asking her, "who put turd in your nasi briyani?"

I browsed around her room, making small talks, with the people present. UJ did not address me after that, treating me as one would dust. She made small talks occasionally to all the other guests and directed a big part of her attention on adding camouflage to her not so smooth face. Maybe what she needed was a wonder iron that will do the job in one smooth application.

Then, I saw him, her Archilles heel. Her would-be-Arab husband entered the room, looking for his sampin - the complemanting piece to his traditional attire. Against her, he looked like a small miniature you bring back as a souvenir from your trips. Gives new meaning to 'trophy' husband. He gave salam to all the ladies in the room and we answered him. Hmm… adequately pleasant, I surmised. He went up to her and spoke softly and I could see UJ instantly beamed like a girl and answered him, softly too, no trace of V-Tech. Before he left the room, he gave salam to everyone again and I could see a lingering smile on UJ face as she watch her man left.

So, I guess only a man can melt her, or rather sex, I positively suspect. Despite his modest size in proportion to her, his blood line must have prevailed, I deduced. We all heard about the sizable size and appetite of an Arab. Maybe. Either that, or he makes great kebabs. I decided that to enable me to eat feastfully, I would go for the latter. Then it was time to eat. We left the room and went down to the marquee and waited there.

Over meal, I coaxed Mama to leave before the nikah as:

1. It was hot

2. The subject was not the hottest matter in my heart

Mama wouldn't leave early so, I arranged for her to get a ride with one of the other cousins, Auntie Tam who lives in Klang too.

Leaving, I had a graphic image of that little man boning UJ silly like a hamster would a rabbit and mentally thanked him for changing UJ's temperament, if ever so slightly. Although our relationship has been rocky to say the least, my peace-for-world heart urged me to have some compassion for her. It cannot be nice not to have people like you, I thought. Besides seeing her again, have given me closure for the black spots of my childhood. I have managed to conquer my trepidations and can safely say that I am not intimidated by her anymore.

I have decided that she is just a past and she should just stay there.