Ode to my dear friends

I found this piece (without the title) in my inbox, sent by a dear friend. I am reproducing it with a bit of addition (in black).

The sombreness of the verses reflects my present mood. I am back to where I started ... watching things I gave my life to ... broken. Hoping there is still enough strength left to start all over gain.

Here's to all my friends. Wishing each and every one blue skies and everything nice. Forgive me if I have been a pain in the ###.

People come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime.

When you know which one it is, you will know what to do for that person.

When someone is in your life for a REASON, it is usually to meet a need you have expressed.

They have come to assist you through a difficulty, to provide you with guidance and support,

to aid you physically, emotionally or spiritually. They may seem like a godsend and they are.

They are there for the reason you need them to be.

Then, without any wrongdoing on your part or at an inconvenient time,

this person will say or do something to bring the relationship to an end.

Sometimes they die. Sometimes they walk away.

Sometimes they act up and force you to take a stand (or vice-a-versa)

What we must realize is that our need has been met, our desire fulfilled, their work is done.

The prayer you sent up has been answered and now it is time to move on.

Some people come into your life for a SEASON, because your turn has come to share, grow or learn.

They bring you an experience of peace or make you laugh.

They may teach you something you have never done.

They usually give you an unbelievable amount of joy.

Believe it. It is real … but only for a season.

LIFETIME relationships teach you lifetime lessons,

things you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional foundation.

Your job is to accept the lesson,

love the person and put what you have learned to use in all other relationships and areas of your life

It is said that love is blind but friendship is perceptive.

Making decisions

There was a nice posting on my egroup today. Reading it make me reflect on two events that happened last week. First, here is the posting:-

Making Decisions

A group of children were playing near two railway tracks, one still in use while the other disused. Only one child played on the disused track, the rest on the operational track.

The train is coming, and you are just beside the track interchange. You can make the train change its course to the disused track and save most of the kids. However, that would also mean the lone child playing by the disused track would be sacrificed. Or would you rather let the train go its way?

Let's take a pause to think what kind of decision we could make........ ........

Most people might choose to divert the course of the train, and sacrifice only one child. You might think the same way, I guess. Exactly, to save most of the children at the expense of only one child was rational decision most people would make, morally and emotionally. But, have you ever thought that the child choosing to play on the disused track had in fact made the right decision to play at a safe place?

Nevertheless, he had to be sacrificed because of his ignorant friends who chose to play where the danger was. This kind of dilemma happens around us everyday. In the office, community, in politics and especially in a democratic society, the minority is often sacrificed for the interest of the majority, no matter how foolish or ignorant the majority are, and how farsighted and knowledgeable the minority are. The child who chose not to
play with the rest on the operational track was sidelined. And in the case he was sacrificed, no one would shed a tear for him.

The great critic Leo Velski Julian who told the story said he would not try to change the course of the train because he believed that the kids playing on the operational track should have known very well that track was still in use, and that they should have run away if they heard the train's sirens. If the train was diverted, that lone child would definitely die because he never thought the train could come over to that track!

Moreover, that track was not in use probably because it was not safe. If the train was diverted to the track, we could put the lives of all passengers on board at stake! And in your attempt to save a few kids by sacrificing one child, you might end up sacrificing hundreds of people to save these few kids.

While we are all aware that life is full of tough decisions that need to be made, we may not realize that hasty decisions may not always be the right one.

"Remember that what's right isn't always popular... and what's popular isn't always right."

Everybody makes mistakes; that's why they put erasers on pencils.

Event number one.

A colleague with more than twenty years experience in the business, stood up to voice out her concern about losing focus of our core business. There were just too many ad hoc programmes which impinge seriously on some of our schedule.

Boss was gracious enough to 'accept' the comment during the meeting.

But guess what? The next day there was news of a repercussion for giving an opinion in a meeting. One after the other colleague thinks she should have taken it to the side behind boss's closed door.Although she was on the right track, vox populi sidelined her far sightedness.

Event number two.

I set up an egroup and named it exssssssHD. Exssssss because I am an ex student of SSSSSS. HD stands for Heavy Discussion.

After more than half a year, a newly elected president of the alumni's association which is registered as EXSSS caught whiff of my egroup. He asked me privately to explain what exsssssssHD is all about and subsequently 'asked me nicely' to change the name. He insisted to have it put on record that he had asked me nicely. Others have abide by his request in his capacity as a president of the alumni.

I posted my answer to his question on another egroup which actually belongs to him copied of course to my own egroup concurring to his request. Included in my answer was my opinion that rather than asking me to change the name, why not make it compulsory for such like groups to register with the alumni association and have the president or his representative join the groups to keep an eye and disseminate information.

I received a few brickbats for my posting.

Some of my friends thought I should quietly abide to the request and not make a mountain out of a molehill.

Some thought it was morally wrong of me to have my own group and discuss issues on it.

No one sees the logic of my suggestion. Some even missed the last line in which I proclaimed my group closed !!! Ssshhhheeeeeezzzzz !!!

I set up the group AFTER the owner of the other group announced [few times] to close it down.

Also, many members of the other group abhor long postings of heavy topics.

Furthermore, there was no legal complication whatsoever with naming the group as I did.

I believe there was no reason for the president to ask me to change the name. In fact by doing so, he has encroached on MY right. He is telling me what to do in matters beyond his jurisdiction.

I am an ex student and a member of the alumni. Does that give the president of the alumni the right to DICTATE what name I give to my egroup? Or rather, what name NOT to give.

Legally and morally, I am convinced I did not commit any wrong doing.

Just as it was not 'becoming' for my colleague to state opinion in a meeting, so is it for me for not giving way to the president of an alumni.

Huh! Whatever was it that actually caused PRU12 tsunami? Paradigm shift or ???

On the 'Spurs'

Finally, I managed to hold a small celebration to honour my girl. She graduated last month and managed to get a job right away. It was such a blessing ... not having to go through that pain of long wait after wait between job interviews.

I am not well. Doctor diagnosed cervical spondylosis [a degenerative condition where 'spurs' grow on the first and second spine which put pressure on the spinal nerves which affect parts of the body served by that particular nerves]. I have problem with my legs which is compounded by knee arthritis. I can't walk far or stand too long. Celebration meant inviting friends over for 'partying'. It's been five years now since I moved back to Jerantut from Gemencheh and my colleagues have been pestering me the past 3 years for a house warming party.

I wanted to do something special for well over 80 colleagues and friends and neighbours I ended up inviting.

I served my very own Bihun Kool and Kool Soup with garlic buttered toast as the main dish and the usual Cream Caramel and Triffle as dessert. Someone requested Bubur Kacang [mung bean sweet porridge] touted as the best bubur kacang in the world [I guess their world is very much restricted within Jerantut only]. I still have some sushi rice and some of my friends who missed the sushi I sell last Ramadhan have been asking for it. Sushi in Jerantut is a novelty - many have 'heard' about it, seen it on those Japanese and Korean soaps on tv, but have never get the chance to try it [see! sometimes one's world is indeed small despite the present advance of globalization].

The party went very well. My friends were happy with the different food served. My father was happy to meet the neighbours. All in all everyone was happy except my legs. The next day my feet wouldn't fit into any shoes and I ended up wearing sandal to work.

Kembara - First Wash

In the morning, Ayong excitedly get down to give her newly acquired dream car a not that much needed wash. For people in our economic class, I'd say it is the feeling of novelty of owning one's own car. More so in Ayong's case, it was a luxury we both never dreamed of achieving that soon. Much as it shamed me to admit, the method of acquisition is also rather stupid some might think. Compared to current interest on second hand car loan which in our case stands at 3.4% per annum, I made a personal loan at plus 5% interest.

I had to do it [not that Ayong put a pistol at my head]. She is not ‘eligible’ for a car loan just yet. She has to have at least three months pay slip before committing herself to the world of debt … L

I am praying very hard our present flip flop PM will not do further damage on the country's economy and Ayong will be able to arrange to finance the car herself soon. My back is breaking with all the loans on my head.

What Matters

Ayong came home after two weeks in Raub. She arrived after dusk. She didn't come home the first weekend because the landlord wanted to replace the broken ceiling fan. I drove over and spent the weekend at 'her' place [she has her own now ... I can't explain how I feel - sad and happy both at the same time].

Thursday the nineteenth was my birhday. Fortyeighth [hmm! not too glaring when spelled compared to written numbers ... hahaha]. Ayong bought my favourite Blueberry Cheese cake. [Nooo! We didn't finish the whole cake ... ;p]

As I was going through some old work, I found something I thought was lost to me forever. I have had to constantly reformat my computer due to virus attack. I saved my works on CDs. Due to carelessness on my part, some of the CDs became unreadable. I was dumb struck for the lost files and folders were collections of pictures, articles and pieces I found meaningful.

Just my luck, I found one I used as a dummy when learning to burn CD. I wish to share one of the saved piece here.

Ready or not, some day it will all come to an end. There will be no more sunrises, no minutes, hours or days.

All the things you collected, whether treasured or forgotten will pass to someone else.

Your wealth, fame and temporal power will shrivel to irrelevance.

It will not matter what you owned or what you were owed. Your grudges, resentments, frustrations and jealousies will finally disappear.

So too, your hopes, ambitions, plans and to do lists will expire.

The wins and losses that once seemed so important will fade away.

It won't matter where you came from or what side of the tracks you lived on at the end.

It won't matter whether you were beautiful or brilliant.

Even your gender and skin color will be irrelevant.

So what will matter? How will the value of your days be measured?

What will matter is not what you bought but what you built, not what you got but what you gave.

What will matter is not your success but your significance.

What will matter is not what you learned but what you taught.

What will matter is every act of integrity, compassion, courage, or sacrifice that enriched, empowered or encouraged others to emulate your example.

What will matter is not your competence but your character.

What will matter is not how many people you knew, but how many will feel a lasting loss when you're gone.

What will matter is not your memories but the memories that live in those who loved you.

What will matter is how long you will be remembered, by whom and for what.

Living a life that matters doesn't happen by accident.

It's not a matter of circumstance but of choice.
Michael J, HumourNetwork.com


This piece is dedicated to a very special friend who helped me see the rainbow after the rain. Thank you.

Erma Bombeck

A friend send Erma's inspirational poem "If I Had To Live My Life Over Again" to my inbox.

I wish to share the poem here.

IF I HAD MY LIFE TO LIVE OVER - by Erma Bombeck
(Written after she found out she was dying from cancer)

If I had my life to live over,
I would have talked less and listened more.
I would have invited friends over to dinner
even if the carpet was stained,
or the sofa faded
I would have eaten the popcorn in the 'good' living room
and worried much less about the dirt
when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace.
I would have taken the time to listen
to my grandfather ramble about his youth.
I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.
I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose
before it melted in storage.
I would have sat on the lawn with my children
and not worried about the grass stains.
I would have cried and laughed less while watching television
and more while watching life.
I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband.
I would have gone to bed when I was sick
instead of pretending the earth would go into a holding pattern
if I weren't there for the day.
I would never have bought anything just because it was practical,
wouldn't show soil, or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.
Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy,
I'd have cherished every moment and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.
When my kids kissed me impetuously,
I would never have said,
'Later. Now go get washed up for dinner..'
There would have been more 'I love you's; more 'I'm sorry's.'
But mostly, given another shot at life,
I would seize every minute...
look at it and really see it ...
live it ... and never give it back.

I have the very same wish too [except that husband part - on that part, my wish would be ... I would have made sure my husband take up more responsibility]

Kembara - my first

My girl got her job, her car and her lodging. Her reactions reminded me of my own when I first started out that final week of December 1981.

Then, my father got me a 'kampung' house to rent at RM80/month. It was a two roomed house on stilts in Kubang Bemban Pasir Mas. It belonged to the late mother of my sister-in-law. There was no pipe water. Water for cooking and bathing was drawn from the well using bucket tied to a long rope and collected in 'tempayans'.

There were spaces between the plank walls. I suspected some peeping toms at night. During the second week, as I was getting ready for work, I heard a soft knock on the wall. It was dawn and still very dark [I think TDM just announced that half hour time shift for Malaysia]. I thought the knock was that of a lizard hitting the insect it caught before swallowing it.

It was after 6 am and I had to walk almost 2 kilometres to my workplace. There was no bus or taxi service in that area, only trishaws. And trishaws that move at that hour were fully booked to sent school children to schools and 'tok peraihs' to the market.

As I opened the door and put out my shoes [I wore 3 inches stiletto then], I was surprised to see a two legged shape in the compound. It was still quite dark and it took me sometime to make out the shape. It turned out to be a person with his 'pelikat' turned up from his waist to cover the top part of his body leaving the waist down part exposed. And he was wanking.

I closed and locked the door quickly. He kept on knocking on the wall. My heart raced a thousand miles per hour. I was SCARED but it was getting lighter so I opened a window harshly, making as much noise as possible and shouted at the top of my lung, "celako nate nih! nok rasa nappar Cik Din mung tunggu situ! [damn b*****d! you just wait there for Cik Din's whack!].

Cik Din was my immediate neighbour and an 'orang gedebe' [village hero(?)] and a relative of my sister-in law.

He disappeared towards the back of the house. Soon after I saw a trishaw coming from the direction of his disappearance. I asked the trishaw man if he saw a boy in pelikat. He did and knew the boy's name - a private school student renting a house with his friends not very far from my house.

That evening I went to see Cik Din and told him what happened [the stain lasted on the sand a few days]. Cik Din promised to take care of the culprit. That was the last of it.

I hope my girl will not have to experience similar situation.

Kembara - home

My girl Ayong and I took a bus from Temerloh to KL. We arrived at Pekeliling bus stop. Next we took the monorail to KL Central. It was almost 4pm and we had not had anything to eat since morning. So we had KFC at KL Central. Ayong wanted to buy a china silk dress she saw on offer yesterday. We spent the hour shopping. I ended up buying two pairs of dress material. Ayong got hers.

After that, we boarded the commuter to Kajang station where we then took a taxi to the used car shop at Batu 12 Jln Cheras Sg Sekamat. It was raining very heavily.

At almost 7pm Ayong and I got into the Kembara and started our journey home. We had to fill in fuel before the journey. So as not to 'carry' unnecessary weight, I told Ayong to pump in rm50 worth of petrol. Then we went on our way to see Epit my son at UIA to show him the newly purchased Kembara which he helped to choose.

About a quarter past seven, I received an sms from a friend telling me about fuel price hike taking effect as of midnight. I decided to fill up the Kembara on the way home.

From Kajang to UIA in Gombak, all the petrol stations were swollen with cars which in some places, spilled onto the road causing massive traffic jams. We kept thinking of filling up at the next station ... to no avail for the queue was almost one kilometre long at ALL the stations.

O'well, just her luck to have the fuel price increase announced today.

Kembara

Tomorrow will be the fourth day I travel to KL to get a used car. My girl will start her first job on Monday in Raub. A car is now a necessity not a luxury or even a choice. It's a must. At first we considered getting a Kancil. However, after looking at the recommended car, we decided against it and the decision burned a hole in the purse. A small sum of deposit was paid when my daughter took it for a test drive earlier.

Actually, the decision was highly influenced by my boy who is beginning his third year in automotive engineering at UIA. Heh! With such a qualification, how can I not take heed of his opinion. He was rather offended when his sister didn't involve him from the beginning. The sister's rational was not to disturb him in his study. O'well! He missed one class yesterday and almost missed a quiz today going around looking at cars.

Finally, between the three of us, we settled for a 2003 1.3 EZ Kembara. Not an easy decision in the light of the coming fuel price hike for it is a permanent 4 wheeler. Other than the 'waste' of the 4wd capacity which has more good off-road [so said some of my friends who never had to wash their car twice in a day. I do], my girl and I were concentrating more on the condition of the car vis-a-vis the price. My boy saved his breath from convincing his mum and sis otherwise. He only gave his 'professional' views not his personal opinions. So, it falls on mum to make the decision which one to buy. Yayyy!!! My word is the order of the day!!!

As always, mum did it. And should there be any 'thing' arising from the decision later, it was mum's choice. Smart eh?

So tomorrow, my girl and I will take a bus to KL in the late afternoon and we'll be coming back with her Kembara.

A Kembara to help my first born take her first step into the world of working adults. Here's wishing you all the best my jewel. I hope the Kembara will ease your journey into the next level of life. I pray you will do better than I did and find your happiness. May God bless you my love.

If I Knew

This is dedicated to all of you who visit me here. Thank you

If I knew it would be the last time that I see you walk out the door, I would give you a hug and kiss and call you back for one more.

If I knew it would be the last time I'd hear your voice lifted up in praise, I would video tape each action and word, so I could play them back day after day.

If I knew it would be the last time that I'd see you fall asleep, I would tuck you in more tightly and pray the Lord, your soul to keep.

If I knew it would be the last time, I could spare an extra minute or two to stop and say "I love you," instead of assuming, you would know I do.

If I knew it would be the last time I would be there to share your day, well I'm sure you'll have so many more, so I can let just this one slip away.

For surely there's always tomorrow to make up for an oversight, and we always get a second chance to make everything right.

There will always be another day to say our "I love you's", And certainly there's another chance to say our "Anything I can do's?"

But just in case I might be wrong, and today is all I get, I'd like to say how much I love you and I hope we never forget, Tomorrow is not promised to anyone, young or old alike, And today may be the last chance you get to hold your loved one tight.

So if you're waiting for tomorrow, why not do it today?

For if tomorrow never comes, you'll surely regret the day, That you didn't take that extra time for a smile, a hug, or a kiss and you were too busy to grant someone, what turned out to be their one last wish.

(Send in by Cindy B of Columbus, Ohio to Joke-of-the-Day)

This is Rex Barker reminding you: So hold your loved ones close today, whisper in their ear. Tell them how much you love them and that you'll always hold them dear. Take time to say "I'm sorry," "please forgive me," "thank you" or "it's okay". And if tomorrow never comes, you'll have no regrets about today. Just Do It. [RexBarker@HumourNetwork.com]

Come Again?

My girl and I went shopping for her first job wardrobe [aside from 'shopping' for her first job transportation means and first job lodging].

Eventually, we found something suitable. There was no other customer in the newly opened store. While my girl went into the fitting room to try out the garments, I waited near the cashier counter. The store people were busy putting price tags on their items. There was one Chinese girl and I thought she looked familiar. She was busy with the tagging.

My girl decided to purchase the items she tried on. We went to the counter to pay. The Chinese girl went through the procedure of scanning the tags, folding and bagging the purchase. She was so intent in her chore. I took out my purse and as I handed her the money I asked if the she knew me. She responded '... oh cikgu aa!, soli tak nampak' [oh teacher, sorry I didn't see you]. I asked if she really remember me. She said yes.

Sheeezzz!!! I was standing right in front of her for almost half an hour and then I handed her the money and she DIDN'T see me.

My Point Of View - 1

Today I went looking for a spin cap. I remember seeing one on display at an electrical shop in Jerantut town. I had to replace my old worn out [koyak rabak putus dua] spin cap used to cover the spin tub of my semi-auto upper load washing machine. I had used it since 1997 and the machine is still fine except for the spin cap.

The shop I went to: no longer sell the spare spin cap. The wife of the shop owner kindly directed me to where I could get it.

It was a 'work' shop - a shop where all the broken electrical gadgets were piled on top of the other and the 'pomen' worked in the back.

A lovely Indian girl greeted me - 'Cari apa?' in perfect Bahasa Melayu. I thought she was a customer [judging from the side of the table she was standing].

I showed her the broken spin cap not knowing what it was in BM. She took it and disappeared into the back door.

A few minutes later she came out waving a new spin cap. I sighed with relief because I thought I might not be able to get one. However, there was one problem. She couldn't tell the price because there was no tag whatsoever. She went on to explain that if I want to buy it, then I would have to wait for her 'tokeh' to come back from fetching her son. I agreed to wait because I really wanted it and doubt if I could get it elsewhere in Jerantut.

While waiting, the 'pomen' came out looking for his log book to log in the service he had rendered earlier to another customer. He couldn't find the log book and started badmouthing the 'tokeh'.

After sometimes, I got quite agitated waiting and asked the shop assistant if she could call her 'tokeh'. She refused on the ground that her tokeh prohibited the use of telephone [there was one around].

We lapsed into silence. The girl tried to make small conversation. She asked where I was staying and said I looked familiar. Turned out we have meet before under a very different circumstance. I conducted a motivational course in her school when she was sitting for her SPM in 2005.

I was amazed at her flawless BM. I blatantly asked her if any of her Indian friends who deserved to further their study, failed to do so all because of the race. She firmly said no. I purposely brought out the racial segregation issue and asked her in plain words, did she at any point in her life [she is 20 yo] feel marginalised in this country. Again she solidly answered no.

I looked at myself and I knew I had never treat any Malaysian differently because of the race. It saddened me to find out recently that I actually am a 'dagang merempat' for I lack M130. I am not the child of the soil.

*confused*

The Next Phase

My little girl has graduated and is considering job offers. First the worry is that she might not be able to get jobs because her discipline of study is too common. I have friends who go 'ohh ...' which somehow conveys that condemning feeling that it is not as prestigous as their children's. But my girl, being a chip of the old block [old block= me the mum] is never unnerved with this kind of belittling and brushed it aside as small mindedness.

The moment she received her final exam result, her application through jobstreet yielded an interview. I was nervous. She was all ready for it. She went for the interview in the morning and took a bus home in the afternoon. On the bus, she got a call asking her to go for medical check up. Barely a month after she left university, she got her first job offer on a bus through a phone. What a far cry from my first [and only] job offer.

"This girl has turned into a woman and I dreamed of this moment all my life." That's a line from a song by Mary McGregor I used to belt out when I was young and just started out on my own ... living alone ... bathing in the novelty of 'working world'. Now ... my little girl has grown up into a young woman. And my! She made me so proud of her. She is very independant and ever so thoughtful. Whenever she walks with me now, she would take my hand [spondylosis coupled with arthritis turns out to be rather debilitating] especially in crossing split level floorings.

A Walk Down Memory Lane

Last week I traveled from Jerantut to Kuantan via Jengka to meet an old school mate who had kindly offered to give my first born a bit of side coaching before she attend a job interview. Ironically, when we were in school, I didn’t know Ghaz. He was from the English medium class and I was from the Malay medium. Had it not been for a reunion we had in September last year, I wouldn’t have this good fortune to benefit Ghaz’s offer. I can’t thank him enough for spending the whole of Friday afternoon with us. Thank you for your helping hand Ghaz.

While getting reacquainted, we discovered Ghaz’s elder brother was my former boss way back in the 80’s. I remember him as the most ‘humane’ boss in my book of work. Like Ghaz, he too ‘extended’ his professional capacity which helped me tremendously in dealing with a difficult situation at work. He went on to become pengetua of SEMSAS and ended up as Pahang State Education Director and conferred a datukship.

I’ve taken the road a number of times. However, on attending the September reunion, I missed a junction and ended up driving the winding old Jerantut-Maran-Kuantan road. A two-hour journey [had I not missed the junction] turned out to be a four-hour one. I was LOST … not the way but lost down the memory lane. I wrote a rambling about it in Bas7377 and here is an edited excerpt.

Another first yang den ingat ialah balik kampung cuti penggal pertama. Just as I was left to my own devices to get to the school the previous year, going home for the first term break was another big adventure for me. There were two ways to get to Jerantut from Kuantan. One was through Temerloh and the other was through Maran. I couldn't get the Kuantan-Temerloh bus ticket and thought of taking a taxi which cost a lot more than a bus ticket. Saimah my classmate from Felda Ulu Jempol (now a Science & Math Officer at PPD Maran) suggested that I take a Kuantan-Maran- Jerantut “bas ting-tong” with her.

I think ignorance is a bliss because I had never travelled that road and had no idea of how long the journey was going to be or the condition of the road. I was happy to save some money, so on the day, I lugged my bag (minus the wheels, mind you) all the way from the hostel to the bus stop across the school. Then get the bag up the bus to Kuantan and from Kuantan took another bus to Maran. And boy! Did I regret not taking the taxi.

From Kuantan to Maran, it was still bearable though it took too long. I don't remember how many hours, but I had to stand all the 83 km to Maran and the road was not like it is today. It was long, narrow, winding, bumpy and dusty. The road extorted a heavy toll on poor me. Guess what!!! MUNTAH IJO (threw up bile). I was alone and felt so sick. Luckily I went prepared. I had my plastic bags with me. Hmmm... I wonder what would happen had I gone sick all over the bus.

It was already late in the evening when I reached Jerantut and I had not taken anything since breakfast. Sick as I was (felt like limp vege) no one offered to take my bag down (not even the bus conductor - hmmm! What manners). I remember my knees buckled in as I went down the bus. I don't remember being scared or helpless though, just a lot embarrassed. I went to get a taxi and tried to negotiate with the driver to drop me at my door. The driver refused. He would only take me to the junction and I would have to walk 2 km to reach home.

I was feeling too sick and tired to walk the 2 km with my heavy bag. So I waited for another taxi. This time I didn't negotiate. I just told the taxi driver where I wanted to go, Sungai Mai. The driver asked for RM20 [usually it was RM4] and I said ok. When we reached the junction, I told the driver I didn't have the money to pay him and he had to send me to my door and get the money from my parents. He he he !!! That worked. And it was past dusk when I arrived home.

Having gone through this kind of experience and I think I did come out a better person, somehow I wouldn't let my own children go through what I went through. I wrote about this in my celoteh column on exsas website (http://www.exsas. com.my/celoteh4. htm).

Today, I thank Allah Almighty; my first born is attending job interviews. Here’s wishing you all the best my ‘Jewel’.

Go out in joy and be led forth in peace

Dream but not make them your master

Think but not make them your aim

Treat triumphs and disaster the same

For they are imposters anyway

Talk with crowd and keep your virtue

Never let your enemies or friends hurt you

Hold on when there’s nothing left

Except the will

For truth will prevail

p/s

Not very original but I have always love Kipling's If.

Ne Me Quitte Pas [Don't Leave Me] - If You go Away

It's been sometimes since the last update. I've been swallowed by daily chores and poor health.

However, someone very dear sent me three videos from youTube of such a lovely song that I have to share here.

The English version of the song - If You Go Away; has been an all time favourite of mine. I was first introduced to it; sung by a Greek songstress Nana Mouskouri. Later on I heard Shirley Bassey's version and love it as well. I never knew the song originated from a French song by Jacques Brel. The dear friend send me a post-humous duet with J Brel done by a stunning French songstress, H Segara. I simply love the French version although I do not undertand a single word.

I took it for granted that the lyrics of the English version is more or less the translation of the French version. However my dear friend surprised me yet again with an English translation if the French version which is so beautiful.

Ne Me Quitte Pas (Don't Leave Me)

Ne me quitte pas (Don't leave me)
Il faut oublier (let's forget for all)
Tout peut s'oublier (can be forgotten
Qui s'enfuit deja (which is gone by already)
Oublier le temps (Forget the time)
Des malentendus (of misunderstandings)
Et le temps perdu (and the time lost)
A savoir comment (finding out how)
Oublier ces heures (to forget those hours)
Qui tuaient parfois (which sometimes killed)
A coups de pourquoi (by blows of "why?")
Le coeur du bonheur (the heart of happiness)
Ne me quitte pas (4 fois) (don't leave me)

Moi je t'offrirai (I will give you)
Des perles de pluie (pearls of rain)
Venues de pays (comes from countries)
Où il ne pleut pas (where it never rains)
Je creuserai la terre (I will dig up the earth)
Jusqu'apres ma mort (even in death)
Pour couvrir ton corps (to cover your body)
D'or et de lumière (with gold and with light)
Je ferai un domaine (I will make a kingdom)
Où l'amour sera roi (where love shall be king)
Où l'amour sera loi (where love sahll be law)
Où tu seras reine (where you shall be queen)
Ne me quitte pas (4 fois) (don't leave me)

Ne me quitte pas (don't leave me)
Je t'inventerai (i shall invent)
Des mots insensés (senseless words)
Que tu comprendras (which you will understand)
Je te parlerai (I shall tell you)
De ces amants là (about those lovers)
Qui ont vu deux fois (who saw twice)
Leurs coeurs s'embraser (their hearts goes out in flames)
Je te racont'rai (I shall tell you)
L'histoire de ce roi (the story of this king)
Mort de n'avoir pas (dead for not having succeeded)
Pu te rencontrer (in finding you)
Ne me quitte pas (4 fois) (don't leave me)

On a vu souvent (One has often seen)
Rejaillir le feu (burst anew the fire)
De l'ancien volcan (of an old volcano)
Qu'on croyait trop vieux (believes to be spent)
Il est paraît-il (There are, it is said)
Des terres brûlées (scorched lands)
Donnant plus de blé (yielding more wheat)
Qu'un meilleur avril (than the best of April)
Et quand vient le soir (And when evening comes)
Pour qu'un ciel flamboie (to make the sky flares up)
Le rouge et le noir (don't the black)
Ne s'épousent-ils pas (and red wed)
Ne me quitte pas (4 fois) (don'tleave me)

Ne me quitte pas (don't leave me)
Je ne vais plus pleurer (I'll weep no more)
Je ne vais plus parler (I'll speak no more)
Je me cacherai là (I'll hide right here)
À te regarder (to look at you)
Danser et sourire (dance and smile)
Et à t'écouter ( to listen to you sing)
Chanter et puis rire (and then laugh)
Laisse-moi devenir (let me become)
L'ombre de ton ombre (the shadow of your shadow)
L'ombre de ta main (the shadow of your hand)
L'ombre de ton chien (the shadow of your dog)
Ne me quitte pas (4 fois) (but don't leave me)

What A Fry Day

On Friday afternoon I went to Jerantut Hospital to get my hypertension medication. It was about 3pm. As usual I had to go through screening and what do you know, my blood pressure reading was 197/128.

So I was made to take the pill and rest for half an hour before seeing the doctor: a practice at the hospital that I never questioned. After all, doctors would know best.

After half an hour of rest, I went to the screening room again. No one was around. I waited for five minutes then enquired at the registration counter. I was asked to wait. It was past half-past four. Hospital closes at five. I was getting quite agitated. I went looking for the assistant nurse who took my bp reading earlier. She said she was off duty. Somebody else was on duty then. I asked her to help me find the person or find me a doctor coz it was almost five and the doctor’s room I was assigned to was empty. I saw the doctor walking away while I was resting after taking the medicine. He even waved at me [he remembered me from my son’s dengue fever case].

Eventually, somebody came and took my bp reading. It remained the same. I was starting to feel stressed. I asked where I was supposed to go to since there was no doctor in the examination room. An HA [Health Assistant] passed by. He suggested I go to the Emergency Unit. I thought there was no point for that. I could go and see a private doctor. I went to the hospital in the first place because I wanted to get my medication which, since I am a public servant, I thought it is appropriate for me to utilize government facilities such as the hospital. After all, free health care is part of the fringe benefit accorded to public servants [I wonder if other public servants in other countries enjoy this benefit].

Upon hearing that I wanted to leave, five nurses surrounded me. One took the hospital card nobody knew what to do with earlier, the rest hold my arms and coaxed me into staying because it would be dangerous for me to leave in my condition [they knew I drove myself to the hospital]. One even asked if I wanted to be pushed in a wheelchair. Sheeeeeeeezzzzzz!!!

That did me in. I couldn’t hold the tears in the well. I was embarrassed. The whole thing was turning into a melodrama. I asked to sit down. The pain in my knee was so bad [could stress do that?]. The nurses kept asking me why I wanted to leave. I said I just wanted to see a doctor and get my medication and since there was no doctor to attend to me, I needed to make haste and go to a private clinic before it closed for the day.

I got up to go and they tried to stop me. It must have looked really awkward. The nurse who took my hospital card earlier came running with my medication. I have no idea how she got them because I did not get to see any doctor. It was a month supply of nifedipine and metoprolol.

Spondylosis and metoprolol … hmmm … perhaps I had better start shopping for a wheelchair while I can still drag my legs.

Odyssey

It has been sometimes since I watch TV. Last weekend I watched Odyssey and inevitably, Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s 1798 poem, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner came to mind brought about by the albatross portrayed in the story. An albatross commands a very powerful image of luck and most significant [until refuted recently] is being regarded as a symbol of lifelong bond between couples.

Seemingly fickle in deciding a mate, but displaying a very elaborate and romantic courtship which might span two years, they meet and work on nest construction for several seasons before breeding and nurturing a bond that can last 20 years or more. Once an albatross chooses its mate, it is known to stay together and should one dies, the other one would die too. Such is the image commanded by this grandest living flying machine on Earth which crosses ocean basins and circumnavigates the globe (NatGeo Dec’07).

Odysseus is the mythological Greek hero renowned for his guile and resourcefulness and is most famous for the eventful ten years it took him to return home from the Trojan War. He enrages Poseidon who then thwarts his journey home. His is the Trojan Horse which helps the Greeks win the ten-year war with the Troys. After winning the war, on his way back he visits the island of the witch-goddess Circe who falls in love with him because he resists her and despite being released, Odysseus spends a year of feasting and drinking until finally, his men convince Odysseus that it is time to leave for Ithaca, where his son Telemachus whom he left when he was born; has grown into a sensible young man and takes it upon himself to defend his mother’s virtue from a host of suitors.

Out of love for the mortal, the witch-goddess Circe actually advises Odysseus on the remaining stages of the journey. Sadly, his crew who has been the ones to convince Odysseus to go home ignore the warnings of Circe and were punished with a shipwreck in which all but Odysseus himself were drowned. He was washed ashore on the island of Calypso, where she compelled him to remain as her lover for seven years.

Gods have other plans for Odysseus and thus he escaped the beautiful nymph Calypso and made it to Ithaca just as his son, Telemachus landed on the shore and Penelope his wife saw an albatross gliding the wind from her window.

At a time where sexual promiscuity is the rule of the land, Penelope is portrayed as a very virtuous lady. Telemachus too, despite a missing father figure and a corrupt society grows up to be a wholesome person.

The story is about a man’s journey. His pride eventually incurs the wraths of god. But other gods who like Odysseus ‘conspires’ and lend him a helping hand here and there. Like all narratives the story has a happy ending. The image of the albatross circling Penelope’s sky accentuates its rhetorical reputation.

However, I watched Animal Planet and discovered that the albatross is no less promiscuous when the partner is not around. What a let down!!!

Marginalised?

I used to live on estate when I was small. I have Indian friends who didn't go to school. They told me they don't have birth certificate. I asked how come and the answer was "kita bapak bukan sini worang, India mari juga."

It was a common knowledge among us estate dwellers that they were illegitimate children. Their legal "fathers" were drunkards.

There were three grocery cum roti canai shops, owned by Indians from India. There were at least 10 Indian workers, all from India. Every year balik negeri.

Every now and then, we heard of fights between one of the drunkards and one of the grocery shop people.

Those drunkards got their 'todi' from the shops - hutang. I did not understand then when I heard my parents talking about the fight - 'bini dia gi bayar hutang'.

I was twelve then. My friends had four or five other siblings.

There was a Malay lady who worked as the cook at the manager's bungalow. She had 3 sons. All didn't go to school. I found out one day that they didn't go to school because they didn’t have birth certificate.

In these cases, can one blame the government for not taking care of one's welfare? Where is one’s own sense of self righteousness? Illegal immigrants flooded our country and yet some citizens cried out because they couldn’t get jobs to feed their family. On the other hand, one will be so proud to see the number of worship places all over the country. If one society can get a mechanism to collect money to build temples, why didn't the same mechanism be deployed to look after the welfare of the poor members. I mean, isn't it odd to see so many temples being build and yet the followers compang camping nak makan pun susah. Would orang miskin be so keen to build houses of worship? Illegally ! Then making it an international issue when the authority tear it down and claim you are being marginalised?

If one malas belajar, then buat hal disiplin sampai kena buang sekolah, is it ethical to claim to have been marginalised? The indons pawn their lives in rickety boats to cross Selat Melaka and these people mengeluh tak dapat kerja sampai compang camping hidup miskin. Some India's Indians with master's degree came here and worked as pump attandents. How many jobless graduates we have and who is it that claimed they have been marginalised.

It is blatantly irresponsible to claim one don't get educated when parents can be charged in court for failure to send children to school. And yet later on you claim you have been marginalised! ... sheezzzz!!! I myself walked 6km to school [bukan tak de bas tapi tak de duit tambang] and got out of my destitution while my 'marginalised' friends frolicked under the sun. I have every right to be emotional on this for I had to work very hard [still do].

Looking at the number of illegal immigrants in the country now, I read about the drive to legalized “stateless” Indians in Malaysia as someone’s hidden agenda.

"... about 3,000 application forms in less than two hours. ... It is unexpected to see so many people without birth certificates and identity cards here,” said Dr Mohd Khir ... their husbands had no identity cards. "

I have heard/read about people selling one of their kidneys or eyes. I also heard a Malaysian IC or passport fetching a good price.

If one brought all the misfortunes upon oneself thru lack of effort and self discipline while others made it out of the estates does one really have a cause to claim to have been marginalized?

Cracked Salad Bowl

I had to go to a bank in Mentakab, 60 km away to settle a surat saman regarding my credit. I received a *warning* letter from a lawyer’s office regarding my supposedly unpaid credit. Turned out I have settled the credit one month ago and I was advised to ignore the warning letter. Sheeezzzz !!! 60 km travel for nothing.

On the way back, I wanted to stop at the B*T* shoes shop. It was starting to rain and there was no parking space. I had to drive around Mentakab town very many times and finally I decided to park at one parking space between two canopies erected on the parking lot. Chinese New Year is just a few days away so these canopies were for selling CNY goodies much like Pasar Ramadan.

One of it was a barbeque stall. The Chinese and Indian boys who were barbequing [I’m sure it was pork meat] looked at one another with puzzled looks. One of them, an Indian, in a very concerned way tried to tell me off. “Kak! Nanti kita punya ni banyak minyak boleh kena kereta akak … kotor”.

I was tired and hungry. My knee was killing me and I needed to get a pair of shoes. “Tak pe lah … sekejap aje!” and I walked off. They looked exasperated. An older Chinese man at the next stall said something in Chinese.

By the time I reached the shop it was closed! What a disappointment. I was very angry for it was only past five. How could they close shop that early in Mentakab … a town bigger than Jerantut with Chinese New Year coming in a few days and anyway it was right in front of a supermarket and Pizza Hut and McDonald which were opened until 10pm.

So, muttering disgust under my breath, I walked back to the car in the rain which was getting heavier. When I reached the car, I noticed the boys looked relieved. I was puzzled! Then I noticed they had stopped barbequing. When I got into the car, they jumped to resume the cooking.

As I drove the 60 km back, I got to ponder about the incidence. I come to appreciate the boys’ effort to inform me of the ‘sticky’ situation. I think they were trying to tell me that they were doing pork … haraam for a Muslim though I could argue that they shouldn’t have done it at an open public place. I don’t know if their stall was legal. It was at a very open place, just across a shopping centre: impossible to have missed the eyes of the municipal people. I wonder ???

A Bad Hair Day

My waist-long thick hair is just too difficult to manage when I go for my hydro-therapy so I went into a hair salon in Jerantut and asked the Chinese girl to cut off six inches of my tresses and have it layered.

The girl asked … pendek ke panjang ?

I answered … panjang … potong sikit jer sampai sini (bringing the end of my waist long locks to somewhere BELOW my shoulder … estimating a six inches cut) … kasi nipis … layer !!!

She responded … OOO !!! … tau! tau! kasi layer laaaa!!!

She looked very young.

I had to take off my glasses.

She started snipping away … and my locks fell down all around me. She was rather brusque… pushing my head up and down left and right a bit too rough I felt. I have more white hair than black. She promoted hair colouring. She showed me brochures of well known brands. I asked her if I could see the actual product in the bottle. She off-handedly said … ‘aiyah. Seme pun same saje”… whatever that means. All the while she was snipping.

Snip … snip … snip …

I asked her how long has she opened the shop … 3 years she said …
“whoa … sangat bagus ya! You sangat muda sudah pandai cari duit” …that supposedly compliment turned out to be a big big mistake.

“awak ingat sangat senang maa .. mahu cali luit? Kita olang Cina oo bukan selupa Melayu. Cina olang mau kelija pun susah. Lagi mau cali wang bayat itu lumah lagi … Melayu suma apa pun flee oo. Tak mau kelija pun tak apa … kelajaan kasi duit maa. . Melayu aa … belanak pun kelajaan kasi duit oo … betut bukan?”

“Uiks! Melayu mana beranak dapat duit?”

“tu .. kelija ofis punye … “

“orang kerja ofis kerajaan, bukan dapat duit bila beranak. You pergi mana pun .. Singapore ke… Thailand ke … England ke … sama saja. Cina ke India ke, Melayu ke kalu kerja ofis kerajaan semua dapat gaji bila beranak. Mereka cuti bersalin 60 hari dan masih dapat gaji, bukan kerajaan bagi duit. Bukan Melayu saja. Cina dan India pun sama.”

Snip … snip … snip

“Lagi aa … melayu mau meniaga pun senang ... kelajaan kasi luit …mau pinjam luit bank pun senang … tak payah cali gelento oo … tak baya pun tak ape … kelajaan kasi luit lagi …”

“Eiihhh!!! Mana ada macam tu? Kalu ada you pun tak boleh buka kedai ni. Orang Melayu seme berniaga lah”

Snip … snip … push … snip… snip…

“Bukannn … olang cina maa … mau cali luit sendili… lagi sekolah pun sudah mau cali sendili … olang cina cali luit mahu kasi makan itu lumah, melayu cali luit sendili mau pakai saja … mau cali kelija pun tak susah … cina aa … sume pun mau cali sendili … bank pun tak mau kasi pinjam … ”

Push … push … snip … push …

“Berapa kalu saya mau kaler rambut?”

“Ooo ... lu lambut aa ... mesti mau pakai dua botol maa ...”

“Ya lah ... berapa?”

“Satu botol lima puluh lebih maa”

“Ok ... kalu saya pakai dua botol, berapa semua sekali?”

“Upah dua puluh maa ... lu ingat senang ka? Lu ingat hali hali ada olang mau kasi kaler lambut ... bla bla bla …”

“Saya tak bawa cukup duit lah untuk kaler rambut hari ni. Besok you tutup kedai pukul berapa?

‘Tak mau cuci lambut ka?”

“Err … besok lah saya cuci sekali … sudah siap?”

I put on my glasses and saw my head which looked like a rat with rabies had gone through it … “aiyah!!! Apasal sangat pendek?”

“Iye lah … tadi cakap mau layer bukan?”

I quietly paid her RM9 and put on my tudung. I pray my hair would re-grow fast.

Once home, I applied a dark red henna hair colourant. It was a colour I was used to … deep reddish brown … only difference is the brand and an extra tube … after colour enhancer … oh well …

After one hour … my head turned bright RED.

Now I know the real meaning of a bad hair day !!!


The headline on Malaysia Online reads:-

RM900j majukan usahawan -- Mara tawar 53 jenis perniagaan melalui program peruncitan
KUALA LUMPUR 1 Feb. - Majlis Amanah Rakyat (Mara) akan memperuntukkan sebanyak RM900 juta pada tahun ini bagi membangunkan usahawan bumiputera dalam bidang peruncitan....


Hmmm …. I looked at my hair and I can see a quarter of an inch of white hair at the roots … it will be a long 20 months to get 6 inches of white hair.