My Big Brother - Part 6

1997 was the year when Malaysians and the rest of the world started experiencing the flattening of the world and the beginning of digital divide. Well, maybe Malaysia lagged by three years if you were to compare us with America, Canada and The UK, but we were quite advance then. 


This year marked a few historical events in my life. 


First, The Engineering Faculty computer lab was equipped with brand new SUN servers and SUN workstations and we're internet ready! The first thing I taught my male friends was how to access Playboy website. They became so excited that they started buying modems to be installed at home. 


Secondly, I bought a PC using my own money. It was from my 6 months' savings. I was doing my industrial training in IBM and I saved some of the allowance each month. Since we didn't have Streamyx yet back then, we were using the house land line for dialing up to access internet. I used to have an internet account with Telekom back then. 


Thirdly, with the flattening of the world, we managed to track down my big brother online. There was no Google or people search yet, but he was found by sheer coincidence. 


Well, he used to have this close friend (whose sister was kind enough to let my mom and me sleep at her house when I registered at STF). This guy was working as a teacher (or was he a lab assistant?) at a school in Melaka. One day he was in the computer lab where all the students were busy learning computer related things including emails and chatting at MiRC. He made his round in the lab, from one desk/student to another. He noticed that one of the students was having a chat with a user id that rang a bell to him. It was a very familiar nickname that reminded him of his old friend. 


He suspected that it was my big brother. That kind of name would only be used by people of his generation and my big brother was one of those who used that name a lot. Sorry, I couldn't remember what exactly the user id was, but it was not a Malay word. So, this guy became curious and started telling the student to ask a few simple questions.

The answers that came were surprisingly familiar. This guy knew immediately it was my big brother chatting on the other end. What he did next was to get the student to get an email id and telephone number that can be contacted and they received them, no question asked. 
A few days later I got a call from my second brother instructing me to contact the number passed to him from Melaka. I made a call and my big brother was not surprised at all to hear my voice. Perhaps, he had suspected that someday he will be discovered and there's not many things he can do to continue hiding or running away. Our conversation was brief, as I didn't really know what to tell him. It seemed like he was well informed of what's going on in our kampung and in the family. Before he hung up, he gave me his email which was a hotmail account, and a few years later he changed to Yahoo!


That was the beginning of our virtual communication. 


1997 was also the year that my first niece was born, and we lost our beloved grandmother only a few days later. 


It was also in 1997 that I met my husband.


To be continued....

My big brother - Part 2

My late brother, Zulkiflie Sulaiman stood at almost 6 foot tall, had always been overweight for as long as I could remember and he never complained about the food our mom prepared. His appetite was always good, if anyone was having eating disorder, they could just sit and watch him ate, and they'd feel hungry immediately. He was one of the people in this world who really appreciated food. When our mom cooked chicken, he'd even chew the bones. If you served him fish, there'd be just cleaned bones left for the cats.

The last memorable meal I had with him was in KK. My family went there for a short vacation and he treated us at one of the famous seafood places. We had fried garoupa, buttered prawn and a very special rice, I think it was called garlic rice. He was telling us about Sabah food and how different they were than the food in Pahang.

When I was in primary school there were two famous Zuls in the kampung. One was Zul Tompel and the other one was my late brother, people nicknamed him Zul Gemuk. If strangers met me on the bus or in town and asked my name, I'd just told them I was Zul Gemuk's little sister. Then they'd say 'Aaaaah, koi kenal abang awok...' and they'd share at least one of the things that they remembered most about him: some silly incident or some of his funny remarks.

My brother made many friends and they all had great memories of him. Many of the older Makciks and Uwans in the kampung were very fond of him because of his warm personality. I noticed he'd usually greet the older Uwans with 'Amboi, lawo betul wan kita hari ni yek. Nok kone melawo ngat ni?'

I remember when I received the offer from KPM to study in STF JB, my parents were so worried because we had no relative and didn't know a single soul in JB. Luckily, my late brother had a friend who happened to have a sister living in JB. So, one night, two days before registering myself at STF, my late brother drove me and my mom to the train station in Triang for the night KTM MEL train to JB. His friend's sister greeted us in JB and brought us to her house. She also brought us shopping for my school needs somewhere in Tampoi.

About a month later I decided to go home during the CNY break. When I booked the ticket, Kak Normah (the garang sick bay lady ) told me that the train won't stop at Triang because it was such a small station and she had never even heard of the town name. I was so stupid to believe her so I bought the ticket to Mentakab. We didn't have a telephone at home then, I could only contact my late brother at his office. So, the afternoon before my train back I told him that I was not sure which station I could go off. He told me he'd wait for me at Bahau station at around 4a.m.

That night, once the MEL train reached Bahau, I looked for him through the window but he was not there. It was a short stop, so after about 2 minutes the train started to leave the station and that's when I saw him with a few of his friends waving at me. I couldn't go off there and then because the coach was too crowded and the train had started moving. I saw them running towards his car.

When the train reached Triang station I quickly looked around and suddenly I heard him screaming my name. I hurried to the coach door where there were people sitting and standing half asleep. The train was about to leave so I jumped onto the platform and ran towards my late brother. On our short journey home he was telling me how fast he drove from Bahau to Triang to make sure they didn't miss me again. He was almost breathless when we reached home. Now everytime I watched The Amazing Race, I'm always reminded of that night. That was like the sweetest thing someone had done to me (chasing a train with a car - macam cerita Hindustan pun ada.)

... to be continued....

My big brother - Part 1

I know some people Googled for my late brother, Zulkiflie Sulaiman and was directed to this blog. As promised, I will try to share with you some of my earliest memories of him.

When I was in primary school sometimes he helped me with my homework, usually the English subject. Since he was from English education background, he liked to challenge me with grammar questions. For instance, on his way to the bathroom he would ask me, 'Have you a) see b) saw c) seen the newspaper?' And being a primary one student, I would crack my head to guess the answer. He would give the correct answer and asked again, 'Cikgu dah ajar ke belum tu?' Well, usually he asked advanced grammar questions, things that I hadn't learned in classroom. So, his pop quizzes somehow helped me a lot to do my own research. We live in a kampung, no one spoke English. My only source was TV and my family. When I was in Standard three, my English teacher challenged me to answer the Penilaian Darjah 5 English paper and I scored an A! I remember telling it to my late brother and late father. My late father looked proud, but later he asked me, 'Kenapa tak dapat 100?' Hehe...

It was also the two of them who bought me my first typewriter in 1985 when I did well in Penilaian Darjah 5. I suspected it was my late brother's idea to get the typewriter. I would have asked for a BMX instead. So, my late father taught me to type, and once I completed the month long 'course', my late brother gave me a few assignments. He brought home a few sample letters from the office and told me to type them - complete with 2 carbon copies! There were a few mistakes, and he told me to re-type - no blanco allowed. It turned out those were real letters he was going to use. That was the moment I realized I would never ever want to become a secretary when I grew up.

My late brother used to work in a bank in our hometown. I was not sure of his position but I heard he had to handle computer related works. When I was in Standard 4 (1984) he brought home a weird looking equipment, a weird looking keypad (which keys arrangement were similar to a typewriter's) and a thick photocopied book entitled BASIC programming. He connected the weird looking equipment to our TV set and we got a different screen! First I thought it was a video player, then he told me it's a computer. I remember the first BASIC program I tried from the book, the QWERTYUIOP keys produced music! The weird looking keypad became a keyboard (well, two years later I learned that IT WAS called a keyboard).

When people asked about my late brother, all I could remember was the fun things he did. He had many friends and well known in Temerloh, Kuantan, Jerantut, Triang, Bera, Kemayan and all the nearby Gugusan Felda. He's always been described as the fun, warm, helpful, bright, passionate but sensitive guy. Yes, he was a bit sensitive. My late father told me that if he scolded him, my late brother would sulk for days and refused to talk. However, my late brother didn't get angry easily, he didn't like confrontation, involve in fights or argue with people. His greatest gift was he could mix with people from all walks of life, young and old, beyond race and religion.

Talking about fights, I remember when I was in Standard 6 (1986) our nearby kampung was flooded. When there's flood, many people would come out to join the 'flood fiesta'. It so happened that a group of youngsters from one kampung was having verbal fight with the boys from our kampung. One night, there was a big fight. The boys from both group met somewhere and brought a few dangerous weapons along.

My late brother came back early that night. He rushed to tell my mom what had happened and how my 2nd and 3rd brother were punching and hitting the other boys. He told us all the details. So, my mom asked him, 'Diorang ni bergaduh, awok bergaduh jugek ke?' And then he answered (whenever he spoke to our parents, he would call himself Li), 'Li tak bertumbuk, Li nyuruk belakang kereta nengok diorang. Li ada pegang pengayuh perahu. Kalau ada orang datang kat Li, Li cadang nak lebas dengan pengayuh tu jek.' My mom couldn't help but laugh. She knew my late brother wouldn't ever got involved in fights. Later that night, my other 2 brothers came home with swollen knuckles and some other bruises.

They got some well deserved lecture from my parents for getting into that stupid fight but a few years later, the only thing we remembered was 'Li nyuruk belakang kereta sambil pegang pengayuh perahu'.

Death in the family

It was Labour Day and I was at my mom's house in Bera, Pahang. Although Monday was also a holiday, we decided to go back to KL on Sunday to do laundry and grocery shopping. We planned to start the journey at around 3, in order to catch Liverpool game at 7. But the kids were still playing outside the house, refused to come in and change their clothes. Then my SIL made some fried kway teow for her friends who were coming over. Then when the friends came, my hubby decided to join them for kway teow hi-tea. It was almost 4pm when everybody was finally ready to go back to KL. All our bags were lined up in front of the main door and hubby started carrying some of the wet towels into the car. Then I felt like going to the toilet, so I went.

I was inside the toilet when my SIL received a phone call. She was shouting my name, I thought it was my friend. Then I heard she passed the phone to my brother and I heard him speaking in English. Suddenly, it felt weird. Which of my friend couldn't speak BM? A few minutes later, I emerged from the toilet and my SIL broke the sad news. My eldest brother who lived in Kota Kinabalu had passed on. I didn't know how to react or what to feel at that moment. My mom and I were discussing about him the night before. I was asking my mom whether my eldest brother will be back for my nephew's wedding next month. We were hoping that he'll be able to get flight tickets and join us for the khenduri.

Allahyarham Zulkiflie Sulaiman
9/7/1957-1/5/2011

All of us sat in silence for a few minutes then started discussing on how to make the necessary arrangements. My brothers started calling their friends, tried to find who could be contacted in KK and who else might be able to help. We never faced this kind of situation. We've dealt with deaths of immediate family members before, but both of them (my late father and grandma) were not across the ocean. The next few hours everybody was calling everybody. Decisions must be made fast. We had to wait for my third brother who was in Jerantut when we managed to contact him. It was already quarter past 6 when everyone of us was finally at my mom's house and we got everything finalized. Two of my brothers were flying to KK that night, the rest would stay at home to make preparations just in case the body could be flown back.

My hubby drove us to KLIA. It was raining cats and dogs from Bera to Nilai. Thank god Zarif and Shawqi were sound asleep throughout the nervewrecking 2.5 hours drive. When we reached Nilai, it was a quarter past 9pm. The last MAS flight to KK was at 10.10pm. When we entered MAS ticketing office, it was already 9.40pm. I insisted for two tickets although the check-in counter was closing. Luckily the ticket girl understood our urgency. We got two tickets and almost ran to Departure level.

My brothers were just in time for the flight. We went back, had dinner and I checked my late brother's FB page. Many of his friends wrote their good bye notes. There was an announcement by UMNO Bahagian Sipanggar on the arrangements made for burial on the next day. Alhamdulillah, everything has been taken care of. I'm sure my late brother had many close friends in KK. They've been like his family since he stayed there.

One of the last pictures of my late brother (i downloaded this from his FB)

My late brother in his Temerloh United t-shirt

My late brother's body was brought to Masjid Kg Likas from Queen Elizabeth Hospital on Monday afternoon and he was buried in Tanah Perkuburan Islam Kg Likas. My two brothers stayed for another day in KK to file the death report at JPN. They came back on Tuesday night. When we went to fetch them at the airport, I saw a big luggage and a smaller bag they brought from KK. Those must be my late brother's belongings. We went through some of his documents that night. My 4th brother showed me the death certificate and I think that was the moment when I suddenly felt really sad. We are so used to seeing birth certificates of newborns, and felt so excited about it. But when I saw the death cert, that was when reality really sunk in. My eldest brother was gone from this world and he's not coming back. I saw his clothes in the bag and I wept.

.......to be continued. I think the younger generation of our family and his friends deserve to know more about him. Let me compile a few things first and publish a few entries dedicated to my late brother some time next week.  

Satu malam di pasar malam

Seperti yang selalu aku tulis di status Facebook, setiap Selasa malam pasti aku akan Hooray! Hooray! nak pegi pasar malam. Sama lah seperti malam semalam. Setelah hujan reda, kami sekeluarga pun berbondong-bondong ke pasar malam Bandar Kinrara untuk membeli makan malam, kerepek dan barang dapur. Walaupun rumah dekat dengan Giant tapi aku lebih suka membeli barang dapur di pasar malam. Mungkin kerana teriak-teriak ramah peniaga yang berwajah ceria, tidak seperti jurujual pasaraya yang mengharap gaji bulan-bulan dan selalu tak ambil kisah pun untuk bersedekah senyum pada pelanggan.

Jadi, semalam setelah membeli makanan kegemaran setiap ahli keluarga; murtabak untuk Wazif, jagung untuk Shawqi, kek batik untuk Shawqi, keropok untuk Shawqi, kuay teow untuk Atuk, nasik lemak untuk Nenek dan serunding untuk aku dan suami, kami pun singgah di gerai kerepek 4 Sepuluh Ringgit atas permintaan Shawqi (Shawqi lagi!).

Ketika aku, Wazif dan Shawqi sedang memilih kerepek yang berkenan di hati aku lihat suamiku tertunduk-tunduk mengutip sesuatu dari atas jalan, kelihatan seperti wang kertas. Sekilas pandang kulihat seperti not seringgit. Apabila suamiku mengunjukkannya ke arahku, kulihat sebenarnya ada satu not 50 dan sehelai not 10 yang dilipat bersama. Akupun terkejut dan berkata, 'Banyak tu! Siapa yang tercicir ni? Takkan tak perasan...'

Suamiku bertanya apa yang patut dilakukan. Aku cadangkan untuk tunggu sebentar, mungkin tuannya akan datang mencari sebentar lagi. Shawqi yang lurus bendul pula mencelah, 'Ayah jumpa kat mana tadi? Letaklah balik kat situ.' Suamiku tertawa geli hati. 'Kalau ayah letak balik, nanti ada orang lain pulak curi,' katanya kepada Shawqi yang kurang mengerti.

Setelah berbincang, kami sepakat untuk menerangkan situasi dan mengamanahkan wang 60 ringgit itu kepada penjaja di gerai kerepek 4 Sepuluh Ringgit yang kebetulan berada hanya kira-kira 3 meter dari tempat duit tersebut ditemui. Suamiku menghampiri penjaja itu untuk membayar kerepek pilihan kami dan bercerita tentang wang yang tercicir itu.

Sambil itu, aku perhati keliling kalau-kalau ternampak insan malang tuan empunya wang. Aku tidak dapat mengagak bagaimana rupanya. Mungkin tua, mungkin muda, mungkin fakir, mungkin kaya. Secara rambang, aku perhati satu-satu pengunjung pasar malam sambil menolak kereta sorong Zarif perlahan-lahan.

Selang beberapa langkah, aku terdengar sepasang suami isteri bertengkar dengan suara yang tenggelam timbul di sebalik keriuhan suasana pasar malam. Aku menghampiri mereka. Sang suami sedang mengelek anak kecilnya yang sebaya Zarif di tangan kiri dan menjinjing barang-barang di tangan kanan. Sang isteri juga sarat menjinjing barang-barang dapur di kedua-dua belah tangan. Wajah sang isteri sugul sambil matanya meliar melihat keliling.

Ditinjaunya gerai buah, gerai sayur dan gerai ikan. Kemudian aku lihat dia terbongkok-bongkok melihat jalan tar di sudut-sudut yang tidak disimbah cahaya lampu penjaja. Aku langsung syak, itulah empunya wang 60 ringgit tadi. Aku memanggilnya, 'Dik! Dik!' Tetapi kerana jarak antara aku dengannya melebihi 5 meter, dan mungkin tiada siapa yang sudi menoleh kalau mendengar laungik 'Dik!' akupun berlari-lari anak mendekati lalu mencuit bahunya.

'Adik ada hilang duit ke?' aku terus mengajukan pertanyaan wajib itu. Wajah sugul sang isteri berubah menjadi cerah.

'Betul, betul Kak. Suami saya ni lah tadi,' dia menunjuk ke arah suaminya. Aku tak berminat untuk ambil tahu apa masalah dia dengan suaminya, lantas aku bertanya soalan wajib kedua.

'Berapa hilang?' sang isteri menggaru-garu dagunya, sang suami buat muka seperti sedang mencongak-congak sesuatu.

'Lima puluh kak, eh bukan... enam puluh lah sebenarnya. Tadi ada satu duit sepuluh ringgit jugak,' sang isteri memberitahu dengan penuh yakin.

Aku bukan detektif yang arif membaca riak muka dan bahasa badan tapi dari saiz anak matanya, aku yakin dia berkata benar.

'Duit tu ada kat suami saya, dia kat situ,' aku menunjuk ke arah suamiku yang masih berbual dengan penjaja di gerai kerepek 4 Sepuluh Ringgit. Wazif dan Shawqi ketiak itu terlompat terkinja di sebelah suamiku mungkin tidak sabar untuk pulang dan menikmati makan malam.

'Adik ni yang tercicir duit tu,' aku menghampiri suamiku lantas memberitahu.

Suamiku tidak berlengah, lalu menyerahkan duit 60 ringgit kepada sang isteri. Dia mengucapkan terima kasih tidak putus-putus dan berkata,

'Itulah, suami saya ni lah tadi....' sebelum sempat dia menghabiskan ayatnya, suami dan aku meminta diri untuk pulang dahulu. Sungguh, kami tidak berminat untuk mendengar masalah dia dengan suaminya. Kami tinggalkan pasangan itu di gerai kerepek 4 Sepuluh Ringgit dan mereka pun berbual dengan si penjaja.

UPM and durians

I submitted this short story at CitiOfSharedStoriesKualaLumpur:

It was a breezy Saturday afternoon in 1997, a year before I graduated from UPM - University

of Agriculture, Malaysia. My flatmates and I decided to go for a volleyball game at the University's expo site - also known as Bukit Ekspo. Its lush green plus a few man-made lakes made it a famous spot for students to hang out on lazy weekends. The athletic ones would jog or cycle around the area. It's a huge compound where the university's annual Convocation Expo would be held.

Bukit Ekspo is situated about 1KM from the main gate and we had to take our motorcycles. There were four of us riding two Honda bikes. Back then, we didn't have much money to spend on expensive shopping tours at the Kuala Lumpur city so we spent most weekends together at the flat, went gossipping at the library or did power walk at Bukit Ekspo. However, that Saturday we decided to play volleyball.

There were durian trees planted along the main road to Bukit Ekspo. I was once told there were more than 10 types of durian that can be found in UPM area. It's an agricultural university where many researches take place, so it's not a surprise to have that many durians.

It happened to be the durian season. We saw green thorny durians high up on the trees as we ride our bikes along the lonely main road. Most cyclists and power walkers would take the alternative routes as they're shorter. We slowed down and finally stopped our bikes just to admire the king of fruit hanging on the trees. The fence along the road was high; so all we could do was stand by the road side and salivating for a taste of durian.

'Let's pray at least one durian would fall,' said my friend Nonie.

'Let's pray that four would fall,' added my other friend, Fid followed by small laughters.

'I don't think it's time yet,' said Mar who looked like some scientist scrutinizing each fruit.

'If they're meant to be ours it would fall,' I tried to sound optimistic.

We stood there checking one tree after another and silently prayed in our hearts that the durian would fall. Fid, who was a student doing a Bachelor Degree in Agricultural Engineering told us that many of the durian trees there were the D29 type which also meant that they're among the best in Malaysia. Nonie and I were doing Electronics and Computer Engineering so we have no idea what type of durian we were staring at. We only recognized the thorns and the smell. We couldn't even differentiate Malaysian durians from those imported from Thailand.

After a short briefing on durian by Fid we decided to continue our short journey to Bukit Expo before the area got too crowded with people. Just when I was about to kick my bike's starter we heard a thud. All four heads turned and we screamed in unision, 'DURIANNNNNN!!!!!'

Miracles did happen and prayers answered. They materialized in the form of a falling durian. That was the most beautiful durian I ever saw on the ground. It's the durian all of us have been salivating and praying for.

We didn't want to waste any time so I took out a screw driver from underneath my bike's seat. It took me on thirty second to open the durian using my screw driver. In the absence of a big knife or 'parang', a screw driver always came in handy in any durian situation.

The four of us sat on the grass and enjoyed God's gift from the sky. UPM is such a rich and generous university, students can get durians for free!

Uber Amazing Blog

I was tagged by the ever so lively Dilla Zaghlol.
I was the 7th on her list and she described me as:

Recipient 7
D.N.A.S - My favourite makcik blogger ever. Serious! She also happens to be my dormmate back in STF and her mom lives in Triang, Pahang - so she shares the same dialect as the Zaghlol clan. Popalleh, weh!! This IT expert should really be a writer and is preggers with her 3rd child right now.

The rules:
o Write five (5) interesting facts about the person who gave you this award.
o Jot down ten (10) interesting facts about yourself or your hobbies.
o Pick your ten (10 or less) most deserving recipients and describe them.
o Leave a comment on the recipients' blog to tell them they've been tagged.
o Paste the award badge in your sidebar.
o Have fun!

Section 1: Five interesting facts about Dilla

1. All her siblings has the first name Azlul and after I left school her younger sister was also in STF so whenever I to referred to her in any conversation with my juniors they’d surely ask, ‘Which Azlul?’
2. She’s also known as Jelol among our dormmates.
3. She was among the early risers in our dorm when she was in Form 1 and Form 2. In fact she was the only morning person in our dorm back then, if I’m not mistaken. Paie and I used to tell her ‘Jangan kejut kitorang pagi esok, ye…’
4. She knows how to mengaji berlagu, berzanji and marhaban and all our dormmates went ‘WOW!!!’ when we first learned about it because most of us were so ‘buta kayu’ when it comes to that area.
5. She used to have extra energy in everything, be it studies, co-curricular activities and even at socializing. I still remember feeling so impressed looking at one of her study notes (later in Uni we call it Toyol) where she used colorful magic pens and using the mind-mapping method to conclude a chapter from the text book.

Section 2: Ten interesting facts about me

1. I enjoy procrastinating. Putting everything to the last minute is so motivating that I always put deadlines in my calendar and forget about planning. I love the adrenaline rush (especially when it comes to tax filing time). By the way, I don’t think LHDN should upgrade their servers or e-filing system further. What they need to do is just to set a few deadlines for tax filing (if it’s not against any law or policy). So, based on file numbers, the tax payers are informed upfront (probably at the beginning of the year) on their tax e-filing dates. This is what we call load distribution.
2. I am a reluctant leader. I never volunteered to become the lead to any team but yet the middle management always thought that’s where I better be. Early last month I learned that I am actually the DC type (Dominant and Compliant). For HR and training people, they might understand this. So, obviously DC people like me, regardless of how hard we try to become the behind the scene players, or be happy just by being a follower, we will still be identified by others as the people who should be in the front line. By nature, people want people like me to lead – I hope they know that I enjoy procrastinating and definitely never a morning person.
3. I am a control freak – which means I must have full control of everything I do and everything (and everyone) I own. At first, I hated myself when I realized this, but once I knew that I am the DC type (refer point number 2), I accepted this with an open mind. Hey, I can’t deny the hardware that comes with the package, right?
4. I think I made a bad girl friend (and sometimes I think I’m quite a bad wife and a bad mother too). How to debate this when there’s no baseline whatsoever for me to compare. I could only compare myself with some of my female work colleagues. I think I made a bad girl friend because I used to be a very opinioned person. Having a boyfriend means I have a boyfriend but he doesn’t have any right to determine my future. Some of my exes didn’t believe in Women’s Lib, so off they went. That was when my friends and I decided on the type of guys and their backgrounds that we should date and y’know what, those who came from East Coast states were banned from our list. Hahahaha! No offence to East Coastal guys, but seriously I’ll never have any chemistry with you.
5. I registered as an ordinary member with one Political party and yet I voted for another. Okay tak? Hehehehe… Undi anda adalah rahsia.
6. I think it’s okay to be skeptical about anything. In other words, don’t just be a ‘Yes man’ or you’ll fall into the traps made by the rest of the ‘Con Men’. Maybe that’s why I don’t invest my money in so many places. However, I still put the eggs in a few baskets; provided I know the baskets are reliable enough.
7. I hate the Malaysian politics but somehow deep down I always hear this funny little voice keep on telling me that the Malaysian politics would someday need me. Adakah itu satu illusi?
8. I don’t have many friends; only a few quality friends (and I’m sure you know who you are!!)
9. Blog and Facebook are my virtual escapades. Maybe that’ll explain why there’s not much written about family, children and work-related stuffs.
10. I don’t agree to some of the things done by Sisters In Islam, especially some of their articles published on the mainstream media. They’re just another NGO, right? So, I am free to state my opinion here. However, I don’t support PAS’ request to ban this NGO either. They’re just another NGO and Malaysian Muslims are matured enough whether to just accept, be skeptical or reject what they read and hear.

Section 3: The recipients

1. Pipiyapong: I actually don’t know this guy in real life but his blog is so addictive. He writes in a very relaxed manner that I always go to his URL to seek solace. Read his childhood stories and they’ll leave you either in tears or a big hearty laugh. He hailed from Kuala Lipis, by the way.
2. Jazzmatazz: A Srikandi and we used to be in the same English class for a few years (or was it 5 years?) She and a few others set the bar for our English especially when we had Mrs. Soon as English teacher. She looks soft and at times rather fragile, but the truth is she’s a very strong woman (emotionally) and a fighter. Go and dig her older blog entries for proof.
3. Looneypuff: I started blogging because of her. We used to work for the same company. Back then I didn’t even have enough time for toilet breaks, let alone writing F.O.C at some column/blog. I only started reading her blog after I handed in my resignation letter and found myself blogging a few weeks after that. She’s getting married this year, yeay!

My work colleagues have gone crazy....!!!!

I have been away from the office for many months, only coming back for important meetings and sometimes interview sessions. So, on Thursday I went for lunch with some work colleagues whom I haven't met for some time. They were Mahani, Bidin, Mariamah, Marlina, Marlia and Sukiman (semuanya bukan nama sebenar....)
First, I thought it was something they put in the drinks but after more than 20 minutes I realized they have all gone crazy. I have pictures to prove....!


Bidin: This is the 700th re-shoot of this same pose. Penatlah woi!
Mariamah: Aku ayuuuuu!!!
Marlina: Aku maintainnnn!!!


Bidin: This is the 701st re-shoot of this same pose. I don't care, I'm making my James Bond pose.
Mariamah: I smell something really stinky. Who farted, huh?
Marlina: Aku tetap maintainnn!!


Sukiman: I wanna go back to Germany. Girls here are not hot at all...
Mahani: Bila aku nak masuk try kelas Body Vive nih?
Bidin : Aku maintain James Bond pose. Hensem gak aku nih...


Sukiman: James Bond nenek kau la, skin head.
Mahani: Jangan bergaduh lah bebudak, aku sumbat dengan sambal hijau ni kang.
Bidin: Setakat pakai spender disposable, jangan nak kutuk aku la.


Mariamah: Okeh, gambar ni aku dah kembali ayu.
Marlina: Walau ribut taufan melanda.... aku tetap mantainnnnn...
Marlia : Tumpang sekaki, aku jelita hari niiiii... lepas ni kita beli goreng keledek, ok?


Sukiman: I divorced you first.
DNAS: I divorced you first.
(Both divorced each other via Facebook, hence the 'pegi sengih jauh-jauh' pose..)

Anyway, it was a fun lunch (for somebody who have been going for lunch with subcontractors for the past few months). Spending an hour with crazy people can increase your productivity. Don't believe me? Pegi le try.

Acara balik kampung koi

It has been about 3 months since we last balik kampung. I blamed it on weekend project tasks. Too bad I can't claim double when it comes to working on weekends. Cheh.
Kebetulan, it was my eldest anak sedara punya birthday that weekend. He just turned 18 and enjoying his freedom and young life like nobody's business. Look at his hair! My god, this is the first time I have an anak sedara berambut karat, okeh. I couldn't guess whether he bleached or colored it.


His name is Anik and we are certainly confused with his chosen hairstyle this New Year. Is it supposed to be punkish or 'Ah Beng'ish? Anyway, he's enjoying his honeymoon period - just finished SPM. Come March he'll be getting really serious thinking about his future, I guess.


Since Maklang Dayang was so pokai to buy him any iPod Nano or new handphone, Anik was only getting these cuppies, lah. He took a few spoonfuls of his cakes, then vanished into the night to join his nocturnal friends. Guys.... teenage guys... At times I felt so tempted to tell Anik and his friends that one day they'll be the ones paying the bills. But, then again, I'm not the parent.... so takkan nak lebih-lebih pulak, kan?


The rest of the cuppies were put in another box. This pic was taken before the journey. When we arrived at my mom's place all the cuppies were senget benget because of all the konar baring along the Kuala Kelawang road.


The best thing about balik kampung (from Wazif and Shawqi's perspectives) is getting the chance to ride in this jeep with the uncles and cousins - dan tak payah pakai seat belt pulak tu. Will never get the chance to do this in KL. By the way, the jeep was from WW2 period. It has been with the family ever since I could remember. My brother (seen driving the jeep in this pic) took all the trouble to re-register the vehicle in Negeri Sembilan. All the engine, tyres and accessories are new. The original paint was greenish like army jeeps jaman dolu-dolu lah. This is the most successful pimp-my-ride in our family history so far. Wait till I pimp-my-jazz pulak. Hehe.

We'll meet again in 2008

Today marks the last day of 2007 and also the last day Wazif and Shawqi going to the Taman Kinrara daycare. Both of them seemed rather reluctant to start going to a new daycare near the house. Although Wazif will only be on transit between Kelas Agama and primary school, he doesn’t look like he’s excited with the new arrangement. Shawqi has made it clear that he’d rather go straight home after his classes. He told me that the new daycare has a ‘certain’ smell that he dislikes.

Without a maid in the house, I am left with no choice but to send them to this new daycare which is only about 300 meters from our house. The one in Taman Kinrara is about 10 minutes drive and the fact that Wazif will be going to KAFA and primary school in Bandar Kinrara, it doesn’t make sense if I still send him to Taman Kinrara for transit.

I still have 2 more days to influence them. Hope everything will turn out okay.

So, today Wazif and Shawqi brought these cuppies for their farewel at the Taman Kinrara daycare. ‘Until we meet again’ is the song (almost) all kindergarten kids would sing on their graduation day. When I handed over the cuppies to the daycare owner this morning, all the other children were so eager to have a look at the cakes. I could hear some of them struggled to spell out the words. Heheheh…. Next time maybe I should pipe words like ‘sumptuous’, ‘alternative’, ‘humungous’ and ‘conversation’ on the cuppies. I think that might help improve the children’s spelling skills and vocabulary. Hehehe.




This batch of cuppies is also my first attempt doing swirls. Aiyo, very tiny, because I still have to sprinkle the colorful confectionary sugar (by popular demand!)



I'm taking this opportunity to wish you all a very Happy New Year 2008! May the force be with us.

Of disappointments and changes

Have you ever realized or experienced that even the tiniest disappointment can bring a huge change? Well, maybe situations in the office will not make really good examples for this,lah. If the office bitches continue on making your life miserable, it’s most unlikely for the bosses to start a new company policy on handling these creatures or limiting their access to the rest of the staff; regardless of how disappointed/pissed off/’meluat nak mampus’ you’re feeling. But office bitches is another story altogether, and let’s not spoil my good mood today by writing about them. They’ll feel so important if I do so, you know.

Even if your immediate boss keeps on giving empty promises and overloading you with irrelevant works, I don’t think the upper management would change the department’s operational procedure. Maybe they will decide to do it in a few years’ time (after a really high staff turnover in the department), but not so soon. Eh, BFH (Bosses From Hell) is another topic I’m not going to go into deep today because my current boss is a very nice guy. (Proses mengipas sedang berlaku, sila beri laluan… hahaha).

So, what kind of small disappointments that can really turn things around/ change the whole storyline/perform total makeover in someone’s life/career/relationship? (Okay, this is the moment where you, my dear readers are supposed to pause and think for a good 15 minutes…… After you’ve found one or two, then continue reading the next paragraph. Hahahaha. Today kita buat macam aktiviti dalam buku kerja sikit, okay..)

Mine has to be the case of my car stereo that was giving me quite a disappointment. In 2001 I bought a second hand Iswara that was still in quite a good condition (ni kiranya my first car lah ni….) After 2 years, the cassette player became unusable after a cassette was stuck in there. I could only listen to the radio. It was tolerable while braving the usual LDP congestion from Sunway Tol till Kelana Jaya, I could always tune to my favorite station and sang (screamed) along.

I hated it when I entered the basement parkings of Ikano and The Curve. There’s no reception at all. As the two shopping malls are such famous destination for lunch, it’s very common to be driving around for about 10 minutes, looking for parking spot. Imagine 10 minutes without music at the basement parking! If I decided to go to One U, it will be worse; after 20 minutes I might still be behind the wheels sticking out my giraffe like neck, scanning for available (legal) space.

We have a lot of audio CDs at home, but the stereo set didn’t come with CD player. Another small disappointment, but I didn’t really give it much thought until I started working at Messburger* (nama sebenar dirahsiakan untuk memastikan usaha mengipas boss berhasil).

The team I joined consisted of a few people who had good taste in cars. They also shared same interest in golf (strike my name out of this list, please…) One day, I overheard these 2 teammates discussing about changing car stereo and they were planning to go to the car accessories shop during lunch.

I suddenly felt the need to get a new car stereo as I thought it’s about time. Actually, by then the cassette player had been unusable for a few years. So, off we went that day to have a look at the choices available. After about 30 minutes of window shopping, my teammate had his eye on the one priced at RM800 while I fell in love with a car stereo that was about the price of a (not so famous) designer’s handbag; it was RM2.5K. I told my teammate, almost thoughtlessly, ‘Mak datuk, mahal ni. Boleh bayar downpayment kereta ni.’ Then my female teammate said, ‘Kau ni beli ajelah kereta baru. Dah gerenti dapat stereo tip top punya!’

Maybe by now you can already guess what our lunch hour activities were for the next few days. Yeah…… visits to various car showrooms and test drive!

About 10 days after the discussion about the car stereo, I paid the booking fee for my new car….. And the rest was history.

If you call that an instantaneous buy, maybe I should tell you that I bought the car that neither me nor Mr. Hubby test drove. I called it instinct buy! But, hey…. It’s worth every sen. If my teammate never pushed that idea to me, I might still be driving the old Iswara and cursing endlessly when I have to find parking space at Mutiara Damansara/Bandar Utama/MidValley during peak time.

The young hearts

Farewell Antonio Puerta. It was an untimely death. Your family, friends and fans are mourning. Although failures of young hearts are quite common in sports such as football, many still don't quite understand how is that possible? Are sportsmen taking designer drugs? Tongkat ali overdosed? Trainings that are too streanous? Insufficient rest? Chronic depression?

The internet news and the papers list many other similar cases of footballers who collapsed and died on the field (some made it to the hospitals, and died there). Some died during training sessions. I hope there are no such case of reserved players collapsing while warming the benches.

As I write this, I couldn't help to think about my late friend, Azeman who died at the young age of 26 on the football field. They said, he had cardiac arrest too.

It was back in 1999, he was going out with my then housemate, Rossa. We happened to work in the same company and the late Azeman was also my senior in uni. I must admit that he was one of the cutest engineers ever graced Excebix office. Many single female staffs noticed and admired him and Rossa was the lucky girl to made it to his heart.

They were planning on getting married as the late Azeman was setting aside some money to buy a car and other necessities as preparation to settle down with Rossa. He was from Sarawak, so the family members were there and at the time of his death, he hadn't visited them for many months.

I could still recall my last meeting with the late Azeman. I was preparing my documents for an oversea trip when I bumped into him at the stairs. It was about a month after the big Turkey earthquake, and I happened to be in Istanbul when it happened. When he saw me with the travel papers, he asked,

'Kau taknak mintak maaf dengan aku ke? Manalah tau, kau kena earthquake lagi ke.... Terus tak balik dah ke....' and he laughed himself silly. Realizing all the possibilities and how fragile life is, I answered,

'Eh, betul tu.... betul..... aku mintak maaf banyak-banyak dengan kau Man. Tolonglah halalkan apa-apa yang termakan terminum selama ni. Kalau aku ada hutang dengan kau, kira burn ajelah, ok? Doakan aku sekali, tau!' he just noded and still laughed. His last words to me were,

'Dayang, jalan baik-baik woi! Eh, terbang baik-baik!'

That very night, I flew to Istanbul with another colleague. When we went to the office the next business day, we were greeted with the saddest email I ever received in my whole life, the sudden departure of my colleague and friend, Azeman.

I couldn't cry, I didn't know what to feel then. I was just numb. I remember calling another close friend, Jacqie who was still very traumatized when she heard my voice. We spoke for about 10 minutes, with trembling voices and her sobbing uncontrollably. That was when I learned how the late Azeman collapsed during a friendly football match.

He was immediately driven to the nearest clinic but was rejected because of his critical condition. When they finally arrived at the nearest hospital, it was too late to save him. Since the family members were in Sarawak, nobody could object to the post-mortem which the hospital had to perform. That was when I shed my tears. I just couldn't imagine my friend being opened up, his organs being pulled out and then stitched back. A friend whom we used to have good laughs and fights with was no longer there, and the thoughts of whatever remained of him being cut and sliced, just broke my heart.

My colleagues told me that the cause of death was cardiac arrest. Some of us noticed that the late Azeman was having some health problems but he never shared with anybody on his condition, not even Rossa. She even tried contacting the clinic he frequently visit to get some ideas on what has been going on, but the doctors refused to reveal anything. Until today, his true illness remains unknown to us.

It has been 8 years now, but whenever I hear news of people dying on football fields, my heart bleeds all over again.

Rest in peace Antonio Puerta. Rest in peace Azeman, Al Fatihah.

Three In One

This is one of the postings when I'm cramming so many things into one. That could mean I'm either busy, very busy, extremely busy or just in the mood of cramming things. :)

1) Fish for father

Not my father, my kids’ father. My father passed away in June 1996, when I was still studying. My kids’ father bought me new slippers for father’s day. Hehehe. What ever day it is, it’s always shoes day for women.
We had a quiet celebration at Manhattan Fish Market on Sunday. They had a promotion of a free desert and a family picture taken for us on that special day. Then we went to have a carousel ride. What ever day it is, it’s always ‘horse day’ for the kids. Hehehe.



2) Thank you for the oscar.

I have never had a formal education on presentation skills or public speaking. Nor have I ever been properly trained on speaking or interpersonal communication (personal coaching is very much welcomed here. Hehehe.)
Nevertheless, I’ve done many presentations in front of my customers. Talking is never my specialty. Standing in front of scrutinizing eyes is one of my greatest fears. Bombarded with technical questions (that included stupid questions most of the times) when you’re as good as a brain dead situation sometimes could mean a career suicide to me.
Yet, I braved them all. I’ve even done a technical presentation (that was more like a testimonial sharing) in front of a crowd about 1,000 people at Sunway Convention Center back in 2003. Until today, I still couldn’t believe that I was once on that stage, bluffing all the way. (I hope you’re not one of the audiences then. Yes, I had no idea what I was talking about that day.)
Last week, my manager got me to attend a formal Presentation Skills training for 2 days. I got this Oscar for participating. We jotted down all the important notes on it. There were many techniques being taught in the classroom. By now, I’ve forgotten 90% of them. Hehehe.
At the end of the 2 days, my only conclusion was: What you need most is guts and passion. The rest will come along.



3) The world is filled with bad people

Last month, my neighbor’s house was broken into in broad daylight. They lost some valuables including credit cards and golden accessories. Yesterday morning, while driving my kids to their school, I saw two police patrol cars parked in front of another neighbor’s house; about 10 other neighbor chit chatting with really concerned face outside the gate. It was another robbery.
My house was robbed about 4 years ago when we were out working. I lost my wedding ring, watch and the kids’ piggy banks.
When I came home from gym last night, turned on the TV to watch the prime news, there came terrible news: a husband and a 7 months pregnant wife were brutally murdered in their house. The murderer successfully denied the rights of 3 people to exist in this world. Taking lives as if he was god. I wonder what went on in the murderer’s mind when he/she was stabbing the victims mercilessly. Didn’t he/she look them in the eyes? Didn’t he/she listen to them begging for their lives? Did he/she leave his/her heart at home before he/she drove to the victim’s place and commit the gruesome act?
Are we human as we claimed ourselves to be? Or would we become more human if we were to live amongst wild animals in the Amazon jungle?
I know most of you are still engrossed with today's daily, scanning through all the news related to 'The High Profile' murder and trial of this decade. Many of us start to do our own theory and analysis. Many would also just refuse to look at the papers or watch the news coverage on the trial as there are people who have lost their faith in the judicial system. Many also would try to get as much inside stories as possible. I fall under the last category of people. So, who has inside stories.... call me, ok?

People that matters

One of my SILs was surprised to learn that I still keep in touch with my ex-schoolmates and ex-uni mates. We don’t only SMS/call/email each other often; we make a point to meet at least once a month to catch up with each other’s life. According to my SIL, she doesn’t even know where her friends from school or uni are. Her world revolves around work, family and the house (and also shopping… shopping… shopping). I am definitely not and cannot be that type. If I were to cut the ties with my friends, I’d feel like a polar bear living alone and cold in the North Pole. (Although at times, when I wore whites, people would mistake me with a polar bear, but NO I don’t want to be left hibernating alone in the North Pole).

Being Muslim women, we’ve always been taught that the Hubby and Family are everything that a woman can ever ask for, thus they’re always the priority; the rest doesn’t really matter (?) I don’t deny part of that. However, there are still things that you can never make yourself opening up to close family members, not even the Hubby. Let alone the MILs and FILs.

Imagine how a typical MIL would react to my usual whinings like, ‘Why can’t I stay and eat pasta at Fasta Pasta the whole day while I bloghop? Why do I have to come to the office and sit in my boring cubicle? My salary is never enough, why can’t your son just give me half of his?’

Imagine again, how the Hubby would react when he hears this:
‘I plan to build my own wealth. I don’t want to depend on my hubby all the time. I also want to make sure he doesn’t know how much I’m worth or where I keep all my money. Where should I hide my insurance policy?’

Those are among the things you’d rather spill out to trusted and reliable friends. Although some are quite judgmental, it’s not such a big deal and you wouldn’t mind.

So, throughout my adult life, the list of email addresses and phone numbers of ex-schoolmates and a few ex-uni mates is always within my reach. Knowing them ever since I was a teenager, there’s an unexplainable kind of trust we share. The sisterhood and bond (with my ex-schoolmate) is something that people like my SIL can never understand.

A colleague once asked why I always ‘beria-ia’ when there’s a function held by the school alumni.
My answer was, ‘It’s an opportunity for great networking and meeting a very reliable support group.’ He was being skeptical, and asked back, ‘Betul ke? Bukan nak jumpa cinta lama?’, a question that deserved my left foot (in a hooking side kick motion).
‘Hellooooo! I went to all girls high school la wey!’ there came my shrieking voice.
‘I never said your old flame was a guy,’
Argh, that’s cliché. Why every girl from all girls’ high school is always suspected to be a potential lesbo at any point of her life?

Most guys get it wrong when it comes to sisterhood. You guys will never get it, regardless of my countless effort trying to explain. This entry is not supposed to re-explain those things. When I started writing this, I intended to share the great time we had at MiCasa last weekend, but I got sidetracked until the end. Hehehehe.


R to L: Waz1f, Shawq1 and Ali (Jazzmatazzed's son). Posing sakan after swimming sakan.

The school break concluded with our NSSC weekend getaway at MiCasa. The boys enjoyed themselves, and the mommies didn’t get much sleep.

Today is my brother's birthday

Today is my elder brother's birtday. If you've read my 'P' Word article, he's the one who shed me some light on menstruation when we're in primary school.
He turned out to be a fine young man and a medical expert, too. Only that he doesn't deal with human much after he graduated, because he's a veterinarian doctor. The whole family learned a lot about A.I ( not Artificial Intelligent, but Assisted Insemination ) and nutritions for cats from him.
I'd like to wish him 'Happy 35th birthday, brother! Can't wait for junior to come and greet us in July!!'. His wife is pregnant with their first child (actually second, the first one did not make it).

Talking about July. Well, my birthday's in July! I have 2 wishes:
1. I wish my niece/nephew will share the same birthdate with me.
2. I wish to watch this musical:



My latest achievement before I turn 33 this year is in the picture below. It took me 45 minutes to assemble this, and I'm so proud of it!

The post that I didn't post

I wrote this with initial intention to post it to iammuslim2. After reading and re-reading I decided to submit the other article. However, I still feel obliged to share this with my viewers. I know this is lengthy, hope you could find the time to read it through. Enjoy!
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To Combine or Not to combine


It was back in 1994, during one of the semester breaks, where the 30 of us boarded the university bus and went on a 2-weeks trip that covered ¾ of peninsular Malaysia. Four university officers accompanied us.

We were living off our suitcases, sleeping in low cost hotels, hostel rooms, training centers and old bungalows. No, this is not going to be a ghost story, to start off with. The trip was partially funded by the university and organized by my classmates (yes, I was part of the organizing committee!). I still remember the objective: to get industrial exposure related to the course we were doing then: Agricultural Engineering. Have you heard of it? I bet you haven’t.

We made a few stops during long journeys; to eat, rest and pray. Between Kuantan and Kuala Trengganu we made one stop, and then between KT and Kota Bharu we made 2 stops.

There was a Sikh girl in the group, Kavitha Kumari (no, not that actress/model. This was another girl.) She’s the chirpy, flirty type with the boys and easy going with the girls. We went along well as we loved the same type of music then: hip hop, R & B and soul. (That explained why I’m now into Urban Crossover, right?)

After the second stop, before we reached Kota Bharu Kavitha came sat next to me and asked,
‘If the journey is from 6 a.m till 9 p.m, are we going to make stop every time you guys have to perform your prayers? If there’s no place to stop, how are you going to pray?’ I didn’t know whether she was curious about Muslim’s prayers or she was actually complaining on the stops we made. I pondered for a moment before answering.

‘Err… actually we don’t have to stop every time,’ my mind was racing and working so hard then, searching for the right words and had to think fast on how to explain our prayers to a non-Muslim. At the same time, I wondered why she chose to ask me that question; back in 1994 I was not wearing hijab, have unruly hair, always in faded jeans, old t-shirts and sneakers most of the days. The image was a far cry from the other ustazah-like females in the bus. To make matters worse, one of the university officers was standing near us and seemed interested in our conversation. I was so sure he was waiting for my answers, too.

‘You know Kavitha, when we travel, the Muslims are allowed to combine and shorten our prayers according to some pre-defined rules,’ Kavitha looked at me with full interest.

‘Serious, ah? I never heard of that. What are the rules?’ That was when I had to do a speedy total recall: what was actually written in my form two Pendidikan Islam text books, huh?

‘I can give you some examples, okay. ‘She nodded, appreciatively. ‘We can combine Zuhur and Asar into one prayer, and shorten each into two rakaat. So, in total we will do 4 rakaat for both Zuhur and Asar.’ I explained.

‘Yeah, I remember the rakaat thing. It’s how many times you go up and down, right?’

‘Yeah, sort of,’ I had to agree because I realized how difficult it was to explain the whole process to her.

‘So, you cannot combine all of them into one prayer?’ she asked.

‘No, the rule is we can only combine Zuhur with Asar, then Maghrib with Isya’. We cannot combine the Subuh prayer with any other prayer,’ I explained further. I must admit that I felt so proud of myself then for remembering those facts.

‘Oh, okay,’ Kavitha looked less interested. Perhaps the additional information just confused her. She removed her walkman from her sling bag and before I could continue further, she was so into her music and ignored me. I felt rather disappointed as I was about to explain to her that in order to get the privilege of performing jama' and qasar prayers, the journey shouldn't have any maksiat elements in it.

The university officer was still there, smiling. He fingered his almost non-existence moustache and said,

‘I think you explained it well. It’s easier to understand.’ I gave away a small laugh, thinking: I hope his ustaz/ustazah taught him the same thing in school.
That night, while lying on a hard mattress in some college hostel in Kota Bharu, I asked another friend,

‘If we were to do the jama’ qasar, the journey must not have any maksiat elements, right?’

‘Yup,’ she answered sleepily.

‘Do you think there’s any maksiat elements involved in this trip?’ I was still wide awake, and the questions lingering in my head kept me fresh.

‘No. We’re on a university trip, our intention is to visit the places and learn,’ she sounded so sure and then she yawned, covering her mouth with her right palm.
‘But we mingle with the boys a lot. We ate together, we teased them. I even pinched, punched and kicked them sometimes. All those touching, skin to skin…. Don’t you think that’s sinful?’ I have to admit, I was still very much a tomboy when I was 20. I always felt more comfortable with boys; I treated them like my own brothers.

‘I understand what you mean, but can we go to sleep? My brain is not really functioning now,’ my friend was dozing off already. I kept quite and made a mental note to ask my father the same question later.

Once the trip was over, I went to my hometown and popped the question to my father after dinner. Although my father didn’t carry the pious man look, he read a lot. I knew he discussed about Islam with his pious friends. He was the type that will debate and present all the dalil aqli and naqli he knew to support his stand. When I asked him about jama’ and qasar prayers, he was quite for a moment.

‘Put it this way, lah,’ he said while adjusting his glasses. ‘Whenever you have doubt, then don’t.’ I gave him the ‘I-seriously-don’t-get-what-you-mean’ stare.

‘It’s just like when you’ve taken ablution, then you go do some chores like running to the kitchen to turn off the gas stove. When you’re back in your room and started donning your telekung, you suddenly thought that you farted while running just now.
But you’re not really sure whether you really farted; you’re in a doubt. So, in cases like this, you have to take ablution again as it was considered invalidated.’

‘Oh, okay,’ I was starting to understand the concept of doubts in Muslim ibadah.

‘That is why; we have to learn Islam from pious and knowledgeable Muslim. He could be a teacher, a scholar or a well known Ustaz who regularly lead the Yaasin recital at the mosque. But we can’t just learn from books, CDs or TV.’ He started explaining on more things I found rather difficult to follow.

‘Why is that?’ I asked, refusing to use my own logic.

‘You’ll have countless doubts when you only study about Islam from books, CDs or TV. Those mediums are not interactive, how are you going to ask questions when you don’t understand something? In the end you’ll have continuous doubts in your daily ibadah and you’ll misinterpret so many facts about the religion.’ He gave a long explanation.

I had to agree with my father. I learned a lot about Islam from him. He knew the best way of explaining Islam to a rebellious tomboy teenage daughter. When he passed away in June 1996, I was saddened for losing a friend, teacher and role model. He was one of the man with whom I could have serious, intellectual conversations.

Back to the jama’ qasar story, when I was sure I understood the whole concept, I got confused again. There was Mawi’s concert in Kelantan, where they only have males performing at the event; spectators are segregated into two groups: male and female, sitting separately. The songs were all related to spiritual and religious. If I travel from KL to KB with my family to watch the concert, can I perform jama’ qasar prayers? Considering there's no maksiat elements involved there, I think I can. But it's still a concert, I'm not really sure I can combine and shorten my prayers throughout the journey. Oh I need a pious and knowledgeable religious teacher.

Mistery solved

Ooops... this is not about the mamak stalls and my love-hate relationship with them yet. Not just yet. Be patient and have a little faith in me, ok.

This is about the magic plant (remember? from the last posting?)

I knew who replaced my plant with a new one!

It was a guy.

...young!

...cute!

...macho!

... very shy, one!

... soft spoken! (is that Dafi AF5 in your mind? Hahahahah!)

He's actually just one of the guys whom I meet in the office everyday, but never bothered to say hi, or good morning, or 'dah makan', or how are you feeling today. I never actually looked him in the eye. (Ye, saya tahu saya memang sombong!)

I was so moved when the tea lady told me that he was the one who gave the plant. He put it on my office desk during the weekend, when nobody's around. I didn't know what to say, how to thank him.

So, I dedicate this posting to him.

Dear Kebun Boy,

you are nice.
i like!

Pokok pelam pokok keladi
Ada new plant, bagi lah I lagi!

Pecah kaca pecah gelas
sudah baca harap balas.

Hahahahahah!

Sue's Wedding, and I think I owe Ahmad 1zham an apology....

Yesterday, 11th March 07 was another historical date for a friend. She got married!! Yeay! It was quite a drama, the past month. The most critical period for any couple who is getting married, is the last month of engagement.

So, my friend (and colleague) Sue, had chicken pox about 2 weeks ago (that was less than 14 days before the big day!!), I heard she cried when she realized she got it. When I saw her last week, she had a huge CP scar on her right forehead. We all felt sad for her.
Then, if that was not enough, the hall she booked for the reception suddenly doubled their rate just because it was school holidays, and it's too much in demand. Luckily her mom's place was big enough for the khenduri.

Some of Sue's wedding pictures can be found at my MSN space.

As for Ahmad 1zham, well, he didn't have anything to do with Sue's wedding. It's just that I heard an interview with him this morning on H0t.FM. Remember how Malaysians were so sceptical of 'that' TV station producing programmes taken from the States? Programmes like Malays1an Idol, now that dancing thing and later on will be Pr0ject Runway? I was one of those Malaysians who used to make remarks like 'Apasal asyik nak ambik sebijik-sebijik program luar ni?'

The DJs asked Ahmad 1zham the same question this morning. Upon hearing his answers, I suddenly realised that it was actually what we have been calling T.O.T (an IT terminology commonly used for knowledge transfer). T.O.T is the abbreviation for Transfer Of Technology. Little that I know that when a TV station produce a program by taking a concept from another TV station, it is almost like that franchise thingy. The local TV station's crew went abroad to be trained by the actual people who produced the program i.e Amer1can Id0l.

In 2006 there was no Malays1an Id0l, but the same local crew produced OIAM and What Women Want. I didn't watch both, so I am in no position to compare them, but from my readings, the local crew did the 2 reality programmes successfully.

That's why I owe Ahmad 1zham an apology. At least that TV station has managed to bring their employees' skills and technical know-how to a higher level. Yeah, I'm just another typical Malaysian. I like to speculate, presume a lot, easily lose my temper, then complaint, complaint and complaint.... heheheheh (but, sometimes that made me feel goooooooooood).

Updated on 15:16 (after a really heavy Japanese lunch with Emily).
Thanks to Jade and Sheryl, I found this Virtual DNA profile:

Read my VisualDNA™     Get your own VisualDNA™

Letting Some Hair Down

The details of the night out can also be found here.

My version of the story :

The Friday night highway congestion didn't dampen my spirit to get to MiCasa before I miss anything important (everything turned out to be important, actually). I decided to take Besraya and paid RM1.30 toll as the Sg. Besi jam was unbearable.

I was the last to arrive. Spain greeted me in the lift to bring me up to 6th floor. She was quite surprised and looked rather relieved finding me alone (not with any of my children, as I told them earlier that day).

The first thing I noticed upon entering the room was smoke. So, I decided to take off my blouse & scarf. Hey, MIL and FIL were at my place, it would take me a few days if not years to explain why I came home late at night smelled like a chimney, right?

I was told to sit down and try to absorb as everybody was already in a middle of a very entertaining story, that I couldn't make out what it was all about. So, there we all sat trying to follow each other's story. Contributed some, added more info, injected more humour if not condemning god knows whoever was the bad guy/girl mentioned in the stories.

If you have a 16 years old diary, I know you can imagine how many stories were there to tell. We covered most of it in one night. It was like speed reading 8 women's 16 years old diaries. I wish I could do that with my educational books!! Hahahah.

There were 2 lawyers in the room that night. We were getting free consultation from one of them (Fynn), while the other lawyer (Rina) decided to cook IndoMee goreng with cili api. The latter happens to be a lawyer with very few words (that's difficult to find in this world, okay!)

There were 2 Corp Comm execs, Mimin and Mum. 2 IT execs, Hana and me. 1 Account Manager, Dalie. 1 Customer Support exec, Spain.

If we were to meet in any bar, and happened to be total strangers, I don't think we could even talk or stand each other. But we spent the best 5 years of our teenage life together, in STF. Whenever we met, we just blended with each other. In just a few minutes, it felt like the clock has been turned and as if we've never spent any time away from each other. Although in a different environment, having new functions in life, plus the 16 years of new experiences, friends will always be friends.

I've attended previous reunions, but I enjoyed this one the most because there were only us. No spouses, no children, no outsiders. It felt like Block-C common room all over again! (minus the warden lah.. hahahah)

In my demotivated entry last week, I did wish to be in a very good company and to spend some time talking silly. My wishes came true on Friday night. I really wanna do it again. It helped a lot. I started my Monday with a fresh and cleansed mind.

Thank you my friends, you all are the best!

p/s: I'm still filtering the pictures we took that night.

Happy V-day

Frankly speaking mushy gushy stuffs really scare me. I've only received flowers twice in my entire life. I always told the guys I went out with, please don't give me flowers. It's not that I hated flowers, I love them. It's just that I never knew how I should react if somebody handed me flowers. Argh... of all the things... flowers? It would be funny to receive them, right? For people like me... who always acted macho, heartless and didn't really care what's happening to the rest of the world.




Imagine this, some cute guy suddenly decide to give me flowers for whatever occasion there might be. How should I react? Let's pretend I'm still single and available, ok....

Scenario 1
----------

Cute-guy1: Dee, I'd like you to have this (he took out a bunch of pink roses that he kept hidden in his trench coat... kononnya the scene took place in a 4-season city le ni..)
Dee : Wow, I never knew you're that rich. Who's paying for dinner?

Note: I believe in load sharing. If he drives, I'll pay for dinner. If I drive, he'll pay for dinner, toll, gas, parking, sedekah kat O.K.U yg jual tissue etc.

Scenario 2
----------

Cute-guy2: Dee, these are for you.
Dee : Wow, they're beautiful.
Cute-guy2: Well, they're not as beautiful as you.
Dee : Yeah, let's just cut the crap. If you want sex, just tell me straight in the face. And in case you plan to do that, the answer is NO.

Note: I don't believe in fake compliments, although I know 'kejelitaan adalah hak milik setiap insan', I could tell whether he's sincere.

Scenario 3
----------

Cute-guy3: Dee, for this special occassion, I want you to have these...
Dee : Oh, you don't have to. That must've costed you a fortune.
Cute-guy3: It's nothing compared to the light I see in your eyes.
Dee : Errr... what I meant to say was, it would be nicer if you could get me those nice dri-fit training shirts instead of wasting money on something that I couldn't even eat.

Note: Flowers aren't edible to us, okay.

Scenario 4
----------

Cute-guy4: Dee, I love you so much. These are for you...
Dee : Hey, I love daisies. How did you know?
Cute-guy4: I did my homework, okay...
Dee : But, I thought people give roses for Valentine.
Cute-guy4: I figured out you love daisies, so I got you daisies.
Dee : But, I love roses too. Maybe you should be doing MORE homework.

Note: If you don't know me by know. You will never, never, never know meeeee... wuuuuhuuuuuuuuuu.....




So, moral of the stories is, don't give me flowers for any occassion because I prefer:

- expensive chocolate
- expensive leather handbag
- expensive and up-to-date electronic gadgets
- loads and loads of audio CD (urban crossover, okay)
- THAT Mini cooper (oh yesss!)
- a 5-days vacation at a beach resort

Well, to single guys out there, thank god I'm not available.
To my hubby.... I still want that Mini Cooper, okay...