Taking Things for Granted

As the manager / head of department, sometimes we take things for granted because we know our subordinates will do the job for us. So we skip the details. Sometimes we don't even read correspondences and reports. All we do when we receive them was to forward the correspondences and reports to the subordinates and let them deal with all the information. We wait only for the summary.

Sometimes we take it for granted that the staff knows what he is doing, when actually he doesn't. We take it for granted that the staff likes what he is doing, when actually he is not interested at all. We take it for granted that the staff is healthy and well, when actually he was struggling with health issues.

At times, we take it for granted that all our subordinates were trustworthy so we didn't check on what they were doing, even when they were dealing with cash. Delegate, by all means. But don't just let it go 100%. As the head of department, we are still responsible for what the staff does and we are accountable for their actions. Donald Trump wrote this in his book Dream Big and Kick Ass in Business and Life : "Employ the best people, but watch them like a hawk".

As a subordinate, we should not take things for granted just because we have the head of department to 'protect' us. We are at work, we are supposed to be able to work independently with minimal supervision. We are not reporting to teachers like we are in school or reporting to professors at the Universities. We are supposed to have the initiative to make things happen, not to just wait and see; not even to ignore what is going on around us.

We should not take things for granted by thinking that the head of department is doing lesser job, so he should have all the time to check on the documents that we have submitted or to follow through on what we were supposed to do. 

But some people take these things for granted. For example, when asked to prepare the minutes of meeting, they would do it just because they were asked to. Not because they thought the minutes of meeting is an important document that could be used as a point of reference in the future. Not even because they thought they could learn something from the meeting or even learning how to improve their writing skills or written language while doing the minutes. Important points were not captured, grammar wasn't checked, spelling wasn't correct and at times even the formatting was wrong. Probably because they thought someone would surely check on it (or someone won't!). 

At times I would get a simple "I'm not sure" response when asked about a particular information. There wasn't even a glint of effort to tell me that they will at least try to get the information. The least they could do was to say "Let me check on the details and get back to you". It makes a lot of difference. To me the former just shows that they were taking things for granted and they didn't even know what was going on.

People who take things for granted probably think they are indispensable from the company. Probably they are already in their comfort zone and so they thought there is no need to work harder or to know more because what they are having now is good enough. Probably they think if they know more, their responsibilities will be greater and they don't want additional responsibilities. They just want to be where they are. They didn't realise that 'employability' or 'marketability' of a person depends on how resourceful they are. The less resourceful they are, the lesser their 'employability' and 'marketability'.

Lest we forget, nobody is indispensable.

If heads of departments take things for granted and leave it all to the subordinates, you will have problem when your subordinates fall ill or on leave. Worse, if they leave the company, taking their knowledge (and their skills) with them!

If subordinates take things for granted that the head of departments would be there to answer on their behalf or even to 'protect' them, they are in for trouble when there is restructuring in the organisation or when there is a shift in leadership. Worse, if they are asked to leave the company. Where would they go? What would they do? What value have they gained for themselves in order to increase their 'employability' and 'marketability' ?

So lets not take things for granted at the work place. Take responsibility on what we are doing. Own it.

Whirpool

This one week has been like a whirlpool for me. I don't even have time to listen to my what I'm thinking. Too busy. Mostly with the preparations for my Exams. At the same time, I could still feel 'empty' and lonely even when I'm in a crowded place. My mind is occupied. But with only one thing - the Exams.

Now, why am I so concerned? The lecturers said it doesn't matter how much we score because by end of the day we will still get the MBA. But how can I just sit back and relax when my other team members are studying like crazy? Huh?

The marks do matter, actually. The results I got for my Financial Resources and Managing People assignments were not that good. I need at least 50% marks for each from the Exams in order to get a "Pass". Otherwise I will have to resit the papers next year. Not something I am looking forward to. So might as well I study hard now.

This MBA matters much to me in my quest for self-actualisation. I don't know what I would do once I get over this (in another TWO years). I don't know if I would ever GET over it. As the saying goes "just go with the flow". Deep down in my heart I know that this is something that I need to do. I just know it. It's a "Now or Never" kind of thing. In that sense, no matter how difficult, no matter how hard and no matter how challenging the path is, I will make sure to thread through it with grace.

I stand guided by the knowledge and guidance given to me by the AlMighty. For He is the only One Who Knoweth all.

Reflection #03

Been a while. Yes. I have been struggling with my health for the past three months. Now I'm feeling fine. Still recuperating. Still managing the asthma. Getting to the pink of health. Insya Allah. Slowly but surely.

I watched a video by Robert Riopel earlier today, in his Fan Page. That video brought me back to home. He reminded me of what I am supposed to be doing and WHY I'm doing it. Yes, one of the reasons why people failed in life is because they don't know what they are after. So how could they succeed if they don't even know what to achieve? True or true? Same here with me.

Engulfed with self-pity from the heartbreaks of many many years ago, added with the deep grieve I felt after my parents were gone and then my elder brother, I came to realise that I have actually neglected myself for so long. I have become a victim without me knowing it. Or probably I do but I chose to ignore. One of the things that I know I know and I chose not to know.

This realisation...this sudden awareness, I think has something to do with the healing that my friend Lina Masrina did on me when she came to visit not too long ago. I think the healing has cleared the path for my self-pity to finally find its way out and roam free. Because from that day onwards, as though in trance, I felt at ease and in peace with myself. I began to be AWARE. I began to think what I think and feel what I feel. The most recent heartbreak, though I have been carrying with me for the past 18 or so years, have disappeared into thin air. I could still remember but no longer do I feel the pain. I could finally FORGIVE myself and let go. Really, really let go.

Amazing, isn't it? How a 30-minutes healing could make a 26 years of inner pain, suffering and self-pity dissolved into thin air and purify the soul? That, was indeed a purification for me.

Since then on, everyday my senses seem to be awake. Like I have just got out from a coma. To my amazement, most of the time things that I've been thinking would physically appear. For example if I've been thinking of a certain words of wisdom, in an instance I would be reading the same in a book. It all started only recently.

When I bought the book, The Way of Achievers written by a warrior-friend, Maitha al-Shamsi. I had just been planning and writing down the scopes of the book for my kids. Something that I have actually planned for many years and did nothing. In her book, Maitha wrote exactly what I need to do in order to make sure the book is written!

Robert, on the other hand, spoke in his video about what a warrior should be doing at this time of the year. Yes, a warrior will go THROUGH the Finish Line, instead of waiting for the year to end and to start all over again in 2018. These two, coupled with the first few pages of High Performance Habits written by Brendon Burchard that I'm starting to read, gave me sort of an assurance that I am actually going into the right direction. Okay, I've said this once a few years ago and I'm still here at the Start, but this time I'm afraid things will change. Because I, will make that change happen!

First thing's first...I'm going to go through with the exams for my MBA that is due in 9 days. After the exams, I will resume with my daily commitment to work on the book for my kids. At the same time, I have committed myself to something else in January 2018 and have started paying for it progressively. I have also committed myself to the Stage 2 of the MBA Programme that will start in February.

I am still searching for my calling. Up to now, all I can feel tightly hugging my very own soul and tugging at my conscience is writing. I have a few ideas in my mind, need to put them into actions. But who knows...I may end up doing Stand-up Comedy. Haha. 😄

Seven Years In Summary

This is a continuation to the post that I wrote back in 2015 (click to read):-


2017 is going to an end in about two and a half month's time. Reflecting on my life the past 7 years, this is to summarise it:
2010 - Anger & Frustration
2011 - Repentance
2012 & 2013 - Sadness
2014 - Trying Hard To Forget
2015 - Peace & Coming Home
2016 - Hope
2017 - Development

This year, I've developed myself to overcome the grieve following my brother's passing. At the same time I've developed myself in a few new areas, especially at work.

My wish for 2018 - it's going to be a year of New Beginning. Insya Allah.

Cough-Variant Asthma

You can read about this rare illness in these articles:-


HealthCentral

Medical News Today

A Pinch On The Arm

I'd consider this as a low point in my life. Not as low as I used to be...but the "sinking" feeling is there. No, I don't like this situation. Not at all.

It makes me feel HELPLESS.

I can't breathe properly. That makes it difficult to walk. I'd cough every time I take a breath. After every cough, I'd feel breathless. Its the spasm, as the Doctor said. It makes the bronchial in my lungs constricted, thus restricting air flow. To add to this 'situation' my daughter is having chicken pox! So she's confined at home. Luckily it's school holiday for the week.

It keeps me thinking....did I 'invite' all these into my life? Probably I did. Subconsciously. Who knows?

Since I had that small talk with Lina a few weeks back, I started to think back to what I had been planning a few years back. I've made a very good Life Plan, the most comprehensive plan I've ever done in my whole life! It covers almost every aspect, concisely.

How much time have I wasted? How far have I gone astray from my plans? How could I have forgotten? How could I become easily distracted?

I dawned on me that my focus has shifted since I started working. I am now living the life of others, than my own. Of course, I need the money to settle all my debts. But I'm not supposed to forget what I have planned. I'm supposed to follow through with the plans on weekly and monthly basis. I've neglected the most important person in my life ever since then. ME!

This illness could be a reminder from the AlMighty. Like a pinch on the arm. So that I'd turn around and keep stock of what I have done and what I have missed. Probably He was trying to tell me that I should retrace my steps. Go back to what I have planned before.

Ironically, I bought a book from Amazon which I received last week. It's a book written by a friend I met at Success Resources programs. The Way of Achievers, by Maitha J. Al Shamsi. In the first few pages, she wrote "I have seen people get sick due to work pressure which creates all kind of health issues and disease". That kind of alerted me. In the Chapter that follows, she gave a step-by-step process on creating vision. This book was like taking me back in time.

Sure. I believe the Universe is trying to tell me something. This low point that I am experiencing was indeed my own fault. I didn't follow through with my plans. So what should I do now?

The wisest move is to turn back and retrace.

What Matters Most

I was hospitalised in August, after having a bad cough for a few days. Luckily it wasn't tuberculosis or anything serious. It was first diagnosed as bronchitis. After a few round of tests, the Specialist finally diagnosed me as having 'Cough-Variant' Asthma. She said was a rare kind of asthma. Hardly found in any of her patients. So she considered my condition as unusual, in a special kind of way.

I was warded for four days and given the next week off. At the time of discharge I knew I was still unwell. Even after the week's off and when I got back to work, I was still coughing and wheezing. I had a hard time sleeping at night. Started to snore. I've never snored!

When I had to see the Doctor again for follow-up check, she found that my coughing had worsened and she admitted me again. Wow! Hospitalised again! She was actually at lost with what kind of treatment should be given to me. For she had given me the best and the strongest of medicines. For the second time, I was warded for five days. When I was discharged, I felt a little bit better.

This morning, I went to the Doctor. For follow-up check again. But also because I had an asthma attack on Friday, three days ago. The Doctor told me that my condition is chronic. She told me that she had given me the best treatment and I took the medications (particularly the inhaler) according to her prescriptions. The only thing that could have made my condition worsened was the triggering factor. After discussing about it, we came to a conclusion that my asthma can be triggered by cold environment. Air-conditioned room / car, rain, fan. Rainy season is definitely not my good friend. When it rains in the night, I'll catch this big A in the morning. Most of the time.

I could also get it easily when I'm having flu. The mucus will block my nostrils and my air passageway, making it difficult to breathe. That'll create spasms in the lungs, thus creating 'ronchi' as the Doctor told me.

This coughing, I've actually had it for a long long time. I knew that I'm an asthmatic. My panel doctors know that I'm asthmatic. But I didn't know that there is such a specific name for it. And according to the Specialist, this kind of asthma cannot be easily identified. Not many Doctors would have given the correct diagnose. So I consider myself lucky for having met with this Specialist.

When you're having health problems that leaves you choking for breath every time it occurs, you'll start thinking if this is the last breath. It'll make you feel even worse when you have kids and work to worry about. At this point of time, I'd say that health is more valuable than any amount of money and materials that we have in this world.

HEALTH is all that matters.

Tribute To Self

To the Most Beautiful Soul in the world,

Have I told you lately that I love you? I do. With all my heart!

First and foremost, I must apologise for being unfair to you. After all these years I have never acknowledged you. Let alone to appraise you. I have never told you that I love you, either. Today, as you are celebrating your 48th birthday I thought it might be fitting for this more than rare or possibly extra ordinary tribute, to be given in such a manner. 

So here goes...

I have known you all my life. I have seen your ups and downs, your highs and lows, your laughter and your tears, your anger and your jubilation, your warmth and your wrath, your happiness and your sadness, your success and your failures. I must say that I have never seen anyone as determined, deep-rooted, strong-spirited and principled as you are. Your parents have taught you well, my dear. Your surroundings have definitely educated and groomed you up to become a better person, too. 

You were once a happy-go-lucky gal who cares of nothing evil in this world. You've had a fair share of a good time in your youth. You have enjoyed your life so much. You have laughed, danced and sang to the songs of life. It was full of colours. Full of joy. Life was so much simpler then, hence your tagline 'Simple Is The Best'. I am proud to have been a part of it. 

However, when your heart was broken, your life seems to have faded away. You were listing your life to the near end. After your parents passed on, followed by your beloved brother Amri, it was as if there was no more life in that soul of yours. There was no more joy, no more happiness that radiates through that smile. Your eyes could only see sadness and despair. With all that has happened, you became a very deep person. People could hardly understand you, even those who are closest to you. I could hardly recognise you! And I began to wonder...where was that cheeky little girl that I once knew? Where have that happy-go-lucky girl who loved sports, nature and adventure went to? What have you done to her? 

This is why I must apologise to you again. I have not been a good companion to you. I merely watched you wasted your adult life away without doing anything. But I must say that you are one hell of a tough hag! 

Every time you fell into misery, every time sadness came to you, every time your heart broke and every time you became lost, you came back. You will always have your head high above the waters even when you were about to drown in your suffering. Yes...I must admit that your mind is your most powerful strength. I admire you for that. You have my highest respect for being able to make it thus far. 

As the late Muhammad Ali once said "It's not a matter of how many times you were knocked down, but how many times you got back up after being knocked down". You did just that! You got back up on your feet, held your head up high and moved on with your life. Every time you fell, you got back up. Every time you failed, you came back with sheer determination to make things right. Every time you got lost, you found your way back home. It shows that you can do whatever you want to, if you really put your mind to it.  

On this auspicious day of your life, I want you to know that I love you with all my heart. You are the most wonderful person that I have ever known. You have the kindest of heart that would reach out to others even when yours are bleeding. You have the purest and most beautiful soul I have ever met. You are the most loving, most gracious, most intelligent and the most caring. Most importantly, you have the brightest of smiles. Nothing else in this whole wide world could match your endearing love and affection for your kids. Your kids are very lucky to have you as their mother. My heart is about to burst with the intensity of my love for you. 

And I am asking you, my dearest beloved, to please live happily again. After all that you have endured, you deserve to be happy. Find your passion. Go out and enjoy nature like you once did. Laugh! Sing! Play! Do whatever you have to do to find that glint or that flicker of happiness. Bring that ol' Lepih girl back to life! So that that wonderful smile of yours will radiate the world and shine through the universe once again. Can't wait to explore the world with you,babe! 

I will be here for you for ever and ever and for eternity. No one will ever love you as much as I do. Because you are part of me and I, part of you. 

REMEMBER!
You are a beautiful soul. 

In the meantime.....CELEBRATE!!!!


Yours Forever, 
ZADE.


P/S: This song is specially dedicated to you....Special Song for a Special Person

Past, Present and Future

After being mersmerised and in daze for a few days, I wrote this on Facebook:-

Each and every one of us has a PAST. Each and every one. It's also called HISTORY. Why? Because once upon a time families would sit around and listen to stories told by their elder ones...His story.

Some people don't want to remember their past. Mostly because it was too painful, too heartbreaking or too disappointing. So they tend to forget about it. Well, of course they would do that. Who would want to remember a painful and disheartening past, huh?

Like me. I have a lot of painful memories of the past. I put the blame on those who were involved. I even put the blame on my mother! Duhhhh....

But here's the thing.

Whatever you do, you can't change the fact that your past DID HAPPEN. Bad news, huh? Yeah, they did. Unknowingly, you are who you are today because of the incidents or events that have occurred in the past. Either you've made yourself better or worse, that was your choice. However, I am sure all of us would not want any of those to be repeated. Aye? In a way, you do have something to learn from the past. Mistakes that you did in the past, sins that you have committed, wrongdoings that you did onto other people, etc etc etc....have made you a better person today.

There are also those who are fortunate enough to have a very good past. Filled with fun, love, happiness and even success. Whether you realise that or not. Whether you accept that or not. The facts is, you HAVE CHANGED. One becomes wiser with age. Didn't the wise say that? Indeed we do become wiser as we aged.

That's why now is called the PRESENT. It is a gift for you from the yesteryears.
So you should embrace the now. Enjoy the moment of being who you are today, who is much much better than before.

Forget about thinking who you 'should've been' or 'could've been' or 'would've been' because 'should have', 'could have' and 'would have' don't exist. It was just the mind trying to trick you into believing that you could be someone else. Which is just crap. There is no such thing as should have, could have and would have! No. They don't exist.

Hang on. There's more. Guess what?

Who you are TODAY will determine who you will become in the future. Be it tomorrow, the next day, next week, next month or next year. Pick the choice. It's all yours.

Then your present will eventually become your past, in your future.

I'll say that again...

Your present will eventually become your past, in your future.

Now...if you still can't get me, here's the thing:-
The PRESENT is a gift for you FROM your past and FOR your future.

Gedit?

So....if you are still unsatisfied with who you are today, make the change. If you want your future self to become better than who you are today, change it.

Nobody is more responsible for your own self, your own life, your own happiness, your own success....than YOU.

Savvy?

And I'm only saying all these because I care.

Reflection #02

A few weeks ago a friend came to visit and stayed with us for two nights. She was from Singapore. One of our fellow Warriors. I didn't know her that well but somehow there is a connection between us and it made me feel comfortable when I'm around her.

So she came, partly because it was the Eid ul Adha. Partly because I needed her help with some healing.

I was just been discharged from the hospital two days before she came, due to bronchitis. The last time I was warded was in 2015. Somehow, I felt that my illness has nothing to do with my physical being. It was more of my mental and psychological. I was losing my way. I got lost along the way.My mind, my body and soul were fighting against each other. It made me confused. It made me sick.

Of course, there was the whole thing about my grieve to deal with.

On the second day she was here, Lina (that's her name), asked me if I wanted her to help me. So I said yeah, I do. She told me that my illness went way back to a couple of years and we have to deal with that first. We went through a few sessions of healing. I can't describe to you how and what it was. One has to experience it in order to understand.

She took off layer after layer of anger, frustration, blame, self-blame, etc and make them disappear. The most important ingredient in this healing process is that you have to be true to yourself. That is, if you really want to heal yourself from all those bad vibes.

After the sessions were completed, I felt 'lighter'. Like a 20-years of burden being lifted off my shoulders. I felt light and at the same time mersmerised. It was like..."Eh, what happened'? I didn't quite know what had hit me. But I suddenly began to realise that all those 'baggage' I have been carrying on my back have taken a toll on myself. Even though I've said it before that I have forgiven and let go, I think I have not fully did. And in those healing sessions, I did. Most importantly, I have forgiven MYSELF!

After Lina went home, I was still dazed. Seems like I have finally managed to put the past behind me. Not to forget, not to remember either, but to cherish.

Here It Comes Again

I've been trying to avoid this feeling that I feel inside. Probably trying to "ignore" it would be the best word to describe what I've been doing.

Every time this feeling creeps into my heart I would just put it aside and do something else. All the while putting up a brave face, pretending to be strong, busying myself and my mind with work and assignments and family. You know what? It's not going away. It's still there, deep inside my heart. So sometimes, like tonight, it will come back to surface.

It's been a while since the last time I cried. In fact, it's been three days. Heh. Yeah...grieve hit me that night when I was in Melaka. Because it was the 2nd of August. My Abah died on the 2nd of August, 5 years ago. Five years! Not only that, I was also crying for Mak and Abang. Oh, I missed them so much!

It cuts me deep when I feel "lost". You know, at times when we need to get away, we can always go back to our hometown and ask our mothers to cook our favourite food? Just being there was comforting. Protected, somehow. But I'm unable to do all that now. Not anymore. That thought alone, is devastating. How sad...

At the back of my mind, there is always this feeling of 'void'. Something's amiss. I once asked you, have you ever feel alone even when you are in the midst of a crowd? I get that feeling a lot.

Time will heal. So they say. I hope so, too.

How Do You Get Over Grieve?

How do you deal with the loss of a loved one?

Once, I care not about this question. Though a very long time ago, when I was 12 years old, I would often dreamed of my mother passing away and I would cry in my sleep.

When my father died in 2012, I was in a short bereavement because I could comprehend the fact that he died in a blessed way. It was Ramadhan, the holy month of Islam and it was also on a Friday, the day of all days. People said that if one passed away on Friday, means he is a blessed soul. I guess Abah was doubly blessed. Not only did he passed away on Friday, but it was the holy month as well.

Besides, at that time I still had my mom to think of. Not too long after my dad's passing, she fell ill so I had to take care of her. While working and taking care of my two young kids, I had my hands' full and not so much time left to grieve.

But after my mom passed on in 2013, it was too much to bear. Probably because I felt guilty for not taking care of her as much as I should. Probably because she was my mother, the woman who had given birth to me and took care of me since I was a baby. Probably because I felt like I had no one else to turn to, now. As a muslim, I was supposed to accept the fate that every living things will die including humans. From God do we come, to Him we shall return. I did accept the fact that she was gone and will never come back. However, the feeling of sadness...oh, God! Didn't seem to go away. Was it sadness, was it guilt, was it lost, I don't know. I was in grieve. That's all I know.

Immediately after she passed away, it was as if she had taken a part of my life along with her. My spirits died with her. I had no more passion to work, I had no more need for laughter, I couldn't even bring myself to take care of my kids. Everything just....died. It was a very dreadful feeling. Emptiness. Void. Something is amiss. That kind of feeling.

I realised that it took me almost two years to get over it. TWO YEARS! Throughout those years I prayed and prayed and prayed and I cried and cried and cried and I read the Quran and its translation, something that I had never done before.

So, how did I know that I had gotten over the grieve?

It was this feeling of peace that I could finally let go of my mom and her memories. Not forgetting. But letting go.

Now the cycle begins again, after my brother died. It was too hard for me. Probably the same ol' feeling of guilt, for not taking care of him enough, not doing enough and not trying hard enough. Probably all those sadness from my father's passing and my mother's came flooding back.On top of all that, I think was this feeling that I had no one to turn to, anymore. The attachment is not here anymore. It's gone. Like a lifeline that I've been holding on to, for many many years...and suddenly it's been cut off. Or like daylight that suddenly turns to darkness.

After almost four months, I am still grieving. Deep down inside, I am still in bereavement. Even though publicly, physically, mentally, I may not have shown the traces of grieve. I still am. Physically, it is taking a toll on my health. I've been constantly sick, subconsciously. Not really in my top form. Mentally I am in an auto-pilot mode. Not really thinking on my feet.

No, it is not something that we can turn on and off like a switch. It is something that we have to endure and only time would tell when we will get out of it. IF we would ever get out of it. Some people die in their grieve. They never did get out. So I'm praying for God to grant me peace. To give His Love and Kindness to get over this pain, this suffering, this grieve. Because I still have my husband and my kids who needs me. I still have to live this life, for myself.

In time, I'm sure, I will get over this grieve. "When?" is the question I can't answer. If God is willing, I will heal in no time.

How did you get over your grieving period? What did you do? How long did it take you to get over the loss of your loved ones? Mind sharing this with me. Perhaps it will also give me some sort of relief.

Moving Forward

Last year, in the midst of all the frenzy when my brother was diagnosed with the deadly cancer, I had to make a difficult decision.

You see, I did the Executive MBA some time in 2003. But I managed to pursue the course only for half a year, when it was a one and a half year programme. Last year, I chanced upon a MBA programme with the Henley Business School, in University of Reading right here where I live. The campus is just 10 minutes away from my house. They were willing to give me a 50% discount with a very attractive installment package. How could I say "no"? I have been putting it off for more than 10 years. It is something that I have been wanting to do in my life.

It was a difficult decision because when my brother was sick, I had to attend to him every alternate week. With the study, there may be times when I couldn't go and visit him.

Nevertheless, I took up the challenge. Life has to go on, right? At that moment in time, I thought to myself "it is now or never". Furthermore, the School provided us with online study materials and almost anything you can find, in their virtual library, online. The classes, which they call 'workshops' are done every once in two months and an assignment in between. So I guess it wouldn't be as hard.

I finally signed up for it and made the payment for two semesters. The first class started in February. Indeed, it wasn't so intense. They told us that they have revised the modules so that the whole programme will last for 2 and a half years. Meaning that I will only complete it in 2019. May God bless my journey.

Some things are just meant to be, when God says so.

Reflection #01

There are times when I feel like I have not done enough in my life. Even though I now have my own family with two wonderful kids, I have my own house that I call "home", I have a steady income and almost anything that I could ever think of.

Why is that so?

Most people would say that I am being ungrateful. I don't think so. I am always grateful for what God has bestowed upon me all these years. Since I was young, I have never lived a life of misery. My family was never "dirt poor". We would always have something to eat, a house to live in, clothes to wear (even if they were hand-me-downs from my cousins) and we were always able to go to school. Though it wasn't luxurious, we had what we need.

I have been thinking about what I'm feeling for the past few days. Looking back at my life, I realised that this feeling is not about 'what' is missing but it is about 'how'.

I was the second child in the family. More often than not, second child is labelled as 'The Rebels'. Probably because we do rebel a lot. But why we do that? It wasn't because we envy the first child. It wasn't because we wanted the attention. But it was because we were not given the attention that we were supposed to get. More so when the third or fourth or fifth child came along. The second would always remain as a second.

In my case, sadly enough, I was always compared to, against my elder brother by my mother. Not only in terms of education but also in terms of behaviors. Yes, I was the active one. Yes, I was the naughty one. Yes, sometimes words that came out of my mouth were unwarranted words, unworthy of being spoken by a child. Should I be punished and labelled as "spoiled" just because of that? Should I be denied of the attention and love that I was supposed to receive just because of who I was?

I've been trying in vain to let go of these ill feelings. At times, I am proud of myself for all the achievements that I have gained in my adult years. I am proud that I managed to score the same grades as my brother did, twice! Perhaps that's why sometimes I feel like I'm letting myself down. I put high expectations on myself! So, when I couldn't meet those expectations, of course I would feel bad and incapable.

No, this is not easy but I have to try and get it over with.

To all you parents out there, my plea to you is this:
Please DO NOT differentiate the treatment between your children. Each of them, has their own uniqueness. Just monitor and manage. If there is a need, change it individually so that they can become a better person. But down downgrade them against their own siblings.

Don't Turn Away

The sun is setting
in the horizon
the world is getting darker
my heart is beating harder

I can see you clearly
even with my eyes closed tight
a faint smile on your face
is what I can see
fading away with the remaining light

I hold out my hands
but I can't reach out to thee
and you look at me for a while
before you start to turn and leave

Oh please don't go...
I beg of you
Don't leave me alone in this darkness
For I don't know what to do

You stopped and approached me slowly
touched my face with your cold fingers
looked into my eyes and said to me gently
"I'm sorry, but I can't stay any longer"

Tears start to flow down my cheeks
My muffled cry made you take a peek
"Don't cry my dear, I will always be near
Just feel it in your heart and I will be there".

When I open my eyes the darkness has gone
Light is shining upon me from somewhere beyond
I know that you are gone and shall never come back
I'll cherish the moments and all the memories that we've ever had.

AMRI ROHAYAT - Part 4

Through the Lenses of a Sister

This may be the last...but not the end of our life story.

 

 

Good Natured and Intelligent

 

Abang was intelligent by nature. When we were in primary school and I’m talking about a very young age of 7 or 8, Abah subscribed a few comics on monthly basis for us. The likes of Beano and Dennis the Menace, if any one of you would recall? When we got home from school, we’d go after these comics. That’s where we started to learn the English language. 

 

Of course, those subscriptions came with a price. We had to excel in our studies. 

 

Abang was an avid reader. I think it was the genetics from Abah. Abah had this complete collection of the James Bond novels. Abang read all of them! Then Abah bought us a complete set of the Britannica Encyclopaedia. You know...the red books? Abang would read them and told Abah what he had read. 

 

At such a young age, he had this passion for science. He’d tell Abah about the stars and the planets that he learned at school. I’d just be the listener. As he grew up, among his favourites were Battle Star Gallactica, the Transformers and later on, the Star Wars. He would also watch the Bermuda Triangle. You know, all the mistery and sci-fi stuff. He was also the one who introduced me to the X-Files. 

 

Abang could play Scrabble with Abah since he was 8. I’d sometimes join them because Abah wanted me to learn. I tend to lose every time so I’d be sulking and didn’t want to play anymore. At times Abah would also get us all to play the Monopoly which I didn’t do any good either. I guess I was terrible at every thinking games except for the card game “Who’s at Home?”. 

 

He was also a good and obedient son. It was rarely, very rarely, that he would raise his voice to Mak or Abah. He’d do so at me, that is. Quite often, too. Huhu. Everyone loved him. Everyone adored him. 

 

But he was mischievous in his own way. Haha. Oh yes…he was!

 

There was a time when my cousin Chai came to stay with us. One day, Abah sent the three of us to watch a movie at the local cinema in Lepih town. They were showing Ultraman 7. After the movie, we waited for Abah. When he didn’t come to pick us up, Abang made a decision to walk home. It was quite a distance away. I think it was about 3km. Then we got to this sundry shop near Rumah Tok. 

 

This sundry shop was owned by two brothers, Panjang (the elder brother) and Hamzah (the younger brother) who originated from India. So when we got to Panjang’s sundry shop, Abang stopped to buy ice cream. Yes, Abah did give him some money earlier which I didn’t know of. He bought 20 sen ice creams each for me and Chai. He bought a 50 sen ice cream for himself! When I asked “how come?” he said there was not enough cash. Yeah, right!

 

There was also a time that he was caught red handed when Mak found out he had been buying food off credit from Panjang. Mak usually bought supplies from the shop using the ‘buku tiga lima’ (a small note book with 555 written on the cover. In the old days, this note book was used to record purchases bought on credit). One day, Mak came home shouting for Abang. I was so surprised because Mak rarely scolded Abang. 

 

Then I overheard Mak explaining to Wan that Abang had been buying things from the shop and had asked Panjang to write in that book. How clever. I’ve never thought of doing that. Later that night, when Abah came home, he was punished. Very rare, indeed! But I felt sorry for him. 

 

Those were among the very rare occasions when Abang was caught doing something wrong. Whilst me…well I’m with the Second Child Syndrome aka ‘The Rebel’. And everyone knows that. I was the spoilt one. 

 

Abang went on to become different in every way. At home, he rarely spoke. We rarely talked. We could hardly hear him laugh. The most he’d do was “Heh heh” with a wide grin on his face. But he got amused at things quite as easily as he could get irritated. He was kind of a serious person. 

 

When I got married, I bought pieces of cloths for Abah and my brothers to be made in Baju Melayu (Malay traditional clothes for the men). I bought some for him, too. And he didn’t wear it! Forgot to bring it home, he said. So he was the different one in MY wedding photo!

My wedding photo

Back in 2010, we had a Family Day in PD for the Ismayatim Clan. Each of the family was to wear a colour-themed clothes. Ours didn’t. When one of my cousins asked him “why?” he said “Oh, our theme is “individuality””. Heh.

The Individuals. Heh.

Religious Studies

 

Mak Long taught us to pray when we were in Kuala Atok. She was the one who made me my first “telekung” (prayer clothes). She’d take us to the surau almost every night. When we got back to Rumah Tok, sometimes we’d follow Tok whenever he prayed.

 

Tok would also taught us how to read the Muqaddam. The introduction to Quranic verses. Almost every night, after Maghrib prayer, Tok would sit on his sajadah waiting for us. 

 

If any of you would remember, those were the days when Six Million Dollar Man was aired on TV, at 8pm. Later on, it was Bionic Woman. So we’d quarrel on who would start reading the Muqaddam first so that we could go and watch the drama. If we were late, the drama would have ended. More often than not, Mak would have to dictate who could go and read the Muqaddam first. Otherwise, she would switch the TV off. 

 

After a while, I completed the Muqaddam earlier than Abang. When Tok asked me to take the Quran for a read, Abang was bawling. Haha. Among a few of my victorious moments!

 

We were also taught to fast at an early age. Mak would start us from as early as 6 years old. For a start, she’d let us fast for half a day. When we got older, we’d fast full day but maybe not the full one month. But she’d give us ‘incentives’ for the days that we fast. 

 

One of the perks for fasting was that we’d get to sit with the elders at the dining table. If we were not fasting, we got to sit on the mat, on the floor. Mak would also make us the bandung drink (syrup mixed with condensed milk) and cooked whatever dish we desired. Sometimes Mak would make the cendol and the soy drink. And we’d get a hefty ‘duit raya’ (money given to kids on Aidil Fitri) for the days that we had fast. 

 

Sometimes we would cheat. We could’ve accidentally drank or ate at school but we didn’t tell Mak about it. At home, we’d take a very long bath and while bathing we drank the water from the tap. But Mak usually knew of our tricks. Somehow, mothers were born with a device to catch naughty children. Hehe. 

 

When we shifted to the house in Jalan Tok Kaya Haji, Mak employed a Bilal to teach us how to read the Quran. This Bilal, whom we called ‘Tok Bilal Karim’ would come to the house every three days after the Asar prayer. Being naughty as we were, we tried to avoid being at home during those evenings. 

 

We’d tell Mak that we had something at school. Sports, curricular activities, extra classes and such. Then we’d come home very late in the evening. Once or twice, the trick worked. When we got home the Tok Bilal had gone home because he had to prepare for Maghrib prayer. Suddenly, when we got home as late one day, we were surprised to see him still there! Mak with her stern face shouted “Mengaji!” and we scrambled into the house to take our ablution and read the Quran. 

 

We knew of other religions because Abah had friends of various backgrounds. When it was Chinese New Year, we would visit his Chinese friends at their houses. If we were in Sungai Bakap, Tok Timah would ask us to send plates of cookies to the Chinese neighbours. They would return the favour by giving us sugar, Mandarin oranges and Ang Pow! When I asked Tok why did they give us sugar, Tok said so that their lives would be as sweet as sugar. We went to our Bengali friend’s house for Capati and our Indian friend’s house for Deepavali. It was all so merry. 

 

We were taught to respect each other since we were young. Abah would cane us if he got to know that we’d said anything vulgar or rude to our friends. 

 

 

The Pahang Club

 

Abang was not so keen on sports while I was quite active with the field sports as well as long jump. So I was quite surprised to know that he played Rugby when he was in SAS! I guess we didn’t take after Abah on that part. Perhaps we are bound to be more of bookworms than sports people. 

 

Abah was a true-blue sportsman. He used to be the Sports teacher at Clifford Secondary School. He played hockey and football. When he sprained his legs so often, he quit football and took up Tennis. Abah played Tennis for the State of Pahang. But none of us siblings took it up. Even though Abah did send me to a Tennis clinic, once. 

 

We used to follow him to the Club, though. It’s called Pahang Club. Kind of an elite place, in the old days. Heh. When Abah was out on the Tennis Court, we’d play inside the Club. There was a pool table and also a lounge where we could just sit or watch TV. Being kids, most of the times we spent our time running around the premise, chasing after each other or played hide and seek.

The Pahang Club. This photo was taken in 2013, when I went back to Lipis for a visit.

Those fun memories would forever be in my memory, for as long as God would permit them to be. 

 

My family, we are not affectionate people. Abah and Mak had never hugged or kissed us. Too disciplined, they both were. So we were not used to say “I love you” to each other. But we all know that we do. Blood is thicker than water, anyway. No matter how different we became, we are still from the same root.

Family...that's what we are

He became an Uncle when my daughter was born. The first gandchild of my parents. He was quite awkward at first, trying to hold that small baby. But you can see how amused he was right there, in this photo. Taken in 2006.

This photo was taken the day after Abah was buried. The Menteri Besar of Pahang came to visit.

The Ismayatim Family.

These two kids are like me and Abang. They could be the best of friends at times, couldn't live without the other and they fought all the time! Now I understand how Mak and Abah had felt then! Huhu. Abang adored them. They adored their Pak Long, too. Though sometimes they were scared of him.

The End.

AMRI ROHAYAT - Part 3

Through the Lenses of a Sister

Education

 

We both never got into kindergarten. Never heard of the word before. We went to a ‘sekolah tumpang’ (sort of an unofficial and temporary school) in Sekolah Rendah Kebangsaan Relong, a small school about 11km away from home. Mak and Abah were both teaching at that school then. So they put us along with the other Standard 1 pupils. Of course, Abang went there first. 

 

SK Relong was the first formal education introduced to us. Sometimes, the teachers would take us to learn outside the classrooms, under the trees. After the morning assemblies, all the kids were asked to pick rubbish and ‘kemuncup’ (weeds) off the field. Before going home, we need to clean the classrooms. Nowadays, I guess parents would go viral saying that we were being ‘tortured’ by the teachers. Heh. But, no. I’d like to think that it was an effective approach to teach us kids on discipline and responsibility. 

 

The community consisted of villagers. Humble and friendly people. Mak and Abah got a lot of home-grown produce from them every now and then. Not only as a token of appreciation for teaching their kids, but also as a means of respect. You know, those days, teachers were considered as highly respectful people because they provide knowledge for the young ones. They’d give corns, fruits, vegetables, tapioca, sweet potatoes and etc. including durian, when it seasoned. 

 

When he was 7, my parents registered Abang to Clifford Primary School which was very near to Rumah Tok. When I turned 7, they registered me into the same school as Abang. 

 

Clifford Primary School was a co-ed school. We were introduced to friends from other racial backgrounds. So we got to mix with Malay, Chinese, Indian, Serani and Punjabi friends. We had no problem mingling around because we already had mixed culture of friends in Sungai Bakap. But in Clifford School, that’s where we learned how to communicate in English and that’s where we learned to respect each other’s cultural and religious belief. 

 

In the early years, Abang went to the morning school session and I went to afternoon session. So he’d be sent to school by my parents. In the afternoon, when Tok sent me, he’d pick Abang up. When Tok came to pick me up after school in the evening, Abang would tag along and Tok would take us for a ride in his ‘Beetle’ (a classic Volkswagen). Most of the time he’d take us to Kampung Tempoyang for tea at his favourite roadside stall. 

 

Sometimes we’d go and visit my great grandaunt, Moyang Temah, also in Kampung Tempoyang, where Tok would collect beetle nut for Wan. Sometimes we’d just walk across the school to Pak Cik Majid’s house, a good friend of Tok’s. 

 

But when we were in the same morning session, we’d just walk to school. Security wasn’t a concern at that time therefore we could walk that 1km to school without any chaperon (save for the time when a car no AR1000 became the talk of the town for kidnapping kids, if any of you would recall). 

 

Abang often left me behind. Sometimes he would intentionally run ahead and that would make me cry. I’d always complained to Mak and she’d tell him off but he’d do it again anyway. Once, when I got out of school he was nowhere to be seen. I saw some of his classmates already going home so I’d figure he must’ve gone home without me! So I followed some other kids who were walking towards the same direction, until I reached home. Lo and behold…there he was, happily having lunch in the kitchen! He told Wan (grandmother) that he waited for me but I was nowhere to be seen. Yeah, right!

 

Rumah Tok gave us a good view of the road down below. One day, as we were sitting on the stairs in the evening, we spotted two kids walking hand-in-hand. A brother and his younger sister. Then Mak exclaimed to Abang “Look! That boy was holding his sister’s hand. Isn’t that nice?” But that didn’t have any effect on my brother, none so ever. 

 

When I was 9, my brother Amran was born. My days of being the last child were over. Suddenly, I became a big sister. Two years later, my younger brother Amir was born. 

 

We were living in a different house already. It’s a quarters for government staff in Jalan Tok Kaya Haji which is on the other side of the hill.

Semi-D houses for the government servants. Most of the people living there were teachers. Like Mak and Abah.

When he was 11, Abang had to sit for a very important exam. Then, it was the ‘Penilaian Darjah Lima’ (standard five evaluation). When the results came out, he was the only one in the whole school who scored 5As. Never before, in the history of that school, had anyone scored straight As. He was the first. 

 

So one morning, during the general assembly, the Headmaster gave a proud speech to acknowledge my brother’s achievement and congratulated him. Then the headmaster said “we hope that his sister would repeat the same glory next year and make us proud!”. I was stunned. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I knew I wasn’t anywhere near his intelligence. That speech gave me a scare. 

 

Abang was made Head Boy when he was 12. At that time he was in Standard 6, the last level for a primary school. Oh yes, I’m sure many of his friends and teachers would still remember him. Handsome Head Boy, intelligent and well behaved. 

 

Fate has it that I only managed to score 4As and 1B. Thankfully, 7 of my good friends scored 5As and that seemed to make the headmaster forgot about me. Phew!

 

 

Off to Boarding School

 

After primary school, we had to go to secondary school. Sadly, I got news that Abang managed to go to a boarding school in Kuala Lumpur. He was leaving! So after he finished his Standard 6 at the Clifford Primary School, he went straight to Sekolah Alam Shah. I could vividly remember sending him off to that school with Mak and Abah and my two little brothers in tow. Mak had all the things one would require at a hostel – buckets, hangers, brush, soaps, etc. The school was situated in Cheras, KL. Cheras at that time was like a remote area, in the outskirts of KL. And it was an all-boys’ school. I think we went to visit Abang only once or twice a year and not a very long visit. 

 

I was angry at him for leaving me. Since we rarely went to visit, my relationship with Abang became distant. Furthermore, whenever he came home for the holidays, Mak treated him with all the niceties. Never once did she ask Abang to do any house chores. He was totally pampered! And I was jealous or him. 

 

To make it even worse, Mak was always comparing me to Abang. Yes, I know that Abang was the apple of her eyes. He was a good boy and intelligent. But comparing me to Abang was kind of too much. I didn’t understand why she would create such rivalry between us. 

 

I ploughed through my studies anyway and finally I managed to get the same score as Abang for my SRP. But I was frustrated when Mak didn’t allow me to go to a vocational school in Kuantan because ‘they have water issues’ and actually it was Abah who didn’t allow me to go. I was totally controlled and overly protected and that made me a rebellious daughter.

 

 

Went Abroad

Abang and Tok at the airport the night he was going off. In the midst of all the chaos, he asked me to carry his jacket for him and I was so proud of it!

After his SPM, Abang was offered to study TESL at Bognor Regis, in the UK! Mak of course was reluctant to let him go. She couldn’t say there was water supply issue in Bognor now, could she? Heh. At the same time, Abang was also offered a place in ITM Shah Alam for Diploma in Accountancy. So Mak tried to coax him into taking the ITM offer. 

 

But Abang decided he wanted to go to the UKs. His rationale was that “people wouldn’t ask what did I study for but people would ask where did I study”. And that kind of cut Mak off. She couldn’t say anything anymore. 

 

You know what? Actually it has always been his ambition to go and play in the snow. Ever since he was a boy. So that was the main reason why he wanted to go overseas. To play in the snow!

 

When we were staying at Rumah Tok, the rubber leaves would dry up during hot seasons. They would be blown by the wind and fell down in front of Rumah Tok like rain. We were delighted whenever that happened. Remember, those were the times when such simple thing could bring so much joy? 

 

We’d be shouting “Snow! Snow!” while trying to catch the falling leaves. We’d also play with the pile of leaves on the ground as if we were throwing snow at each other. 

 

So when I got to know of his decision, I was kind of sad and excited. Sad that he’d be leaving me again and excited because he’d finally got to play in the snow. 

 

We got a postcard from him showing a man playing the bagpipe. He said it was his semester break and he went to Scotland to experience the snow and that when he got back to Bognor Regis, it was snowing heavily! He said he went to Scotland because the local people told him that it hadn’t snow in Bognor for almost 6 years. 

 

I replied to his postcard and asked him if he could post some of the snow to us. Huhu. 

 

While he was there, I ploughed through SPM and it turned out that my results were the same as Abang. I was so delighted. Then I got an offer to further my studies in ITM which Abah had reluctantly allowed. Since then Mak had never compared me to Abang again! 

 

When Abang came back, I was already studying in ITM Shah Alam and didn’t come home that often. So we didn’t see much of each other except for Hari Raya and semester breaks. He was already a different person then. 

 

 

...to be continued (again).

AMRI ROHAYAT - Part 2

Through the Lenses of a Sister

 

 

Sungai Bakap

 

Sungai Bakap was where my paternal grandparents, Tok Wan (grandfather) and Tok (grandmother) resided. They had 10 children (there are only 7 of them left, now). Abah was the eldest. We’d go back to Sungai Bakap for Hari Raya and school holidays.

Abah would always joked "If you want to go to Sungai Bakap, you have to 'masuk jawi'" (masuk jawi means circumcision in a layman's words). Photo credit: http://www.my-island-penang.com/image-files/sbakap1.jpg

But mind you, PLUS Highway was not in existence yet. So we had to travel along the many corners and winding road of Kuala Kubu Baru. Took us nearly 12 hours from Lepih to Sungai Bakap. 

 

Because there were only the two of us at the back seat, we’d lie down until our heads would meet in the middle. But of course, there were always the quarrels of who penetrated into whose ‘territory’. When Abah was driving a Volvo, this issue was merely settled by having a ‘double deck bed’. Abang would sleep on the board above the backseat while I slept on the seat.

Bonnie and Clyde

Along the way we’d be singing and playing games. 

 

Life in Sungai Bakap was no different than life in Kuala Atok. We were free to roam. It was even better because we had more friends in Sungai Bakap. However, Sungai Bakap was not a village. It was a low-cost housing area with single storey link houses. 

 

The neighbourhood consisted of Malay, Chinese and Indian. Tok knew them all and they all knew Tok. Better known as ‘Mak Timah’ and Tok Wan was known as ‘Pak Derih’. 

 

I have a cousin brother who was not much older than Abang, whom we called ‘Bayon’ and his sister is one year younger than me, Intan. The others, my aunts and my cousins’ elder sister, were all big enough to play with us. So when we got to Sungai Bakap, Bayon and Intan were our friends. In addition, there were other kids in that area who became our friends, too. 

 

There was this Chinese neighbour who lived just two doors from Tok, whose children were very friendly that we even played in their bedroom! We had no problem going in and out of their house. I think we called the elder brother by the name of ‘Tapau’.

 

There was also the children of ‘Pak Kassim’ who lived on the other side of the housing area. So yeah, we had plenty of friends in Sungai Bakap. But Bayon and Intan were our partners in crime. Bayon taught us how to play the cards and that’s how we spent our days indoor. 

 

Sometimes we’d play at a Chinese temple which was situated in adjacent to the housing area. That Chinese temple was a serene place. It was very quiet. Some school children went to study in the temple. 

 

Once, we went in and went up as far as we could go while making noises. Then came an old lady with a broom, chasing us out in Hokkien. We didn’t understand what she said but we knew the broom was up to no good. So we took haste and jumped out of the temple! Never did we go in ever again. The closest we got was in the compound and the old lady had no problem with that. Furthermore we were with those Chinese kids. 

 

We’d ride the bicycles in the evenings. We’d met with the other kids not far from Tok’s house and planned for our activity that night. Most of the time we’d play police sentry. There was no limit as to where the ‘enemy’ could go. So we’d spend like half the night looking for them. You know, they could hide on the tree or even in unused chicken coop!

 

Once, we took a ride with our aunties on their bicycles to the Sungai Bakap small town. They told us that they had informed Mak and Abah. Innocently, we followed them. When we got home, Mak was waiting for us at the front door with an angry face. Later, we both had to stand in front of Abah, both hands clasp to the back and answered his queries. It was like being prosecuted in court. When the verdict was ‘guilty’ we had to put our palms out straight and Abah whipped us with a ruler. No mercy! Yet that was an early lesson for us not to believe what others told us so. Huhu. 

 

Anyway, just like in Lepih, if we got up very early in the morning we could take a ride to town with Tok Wan on his motorbike. If the two of us went together, he’d let me sit in front with my feet in the basket and Abang would sit at the back, with his tiny hands looping around Tok Wan’s waist trying to hold on. But Tok Wan didn’t ride very fast so that was okay. 

 

After he went on his chores, Tok Wan would buy us sweets and best of all, the ‘ais kepal’ (shaved ice shaped into a ball, put in a plastic and poured some syrup on it). Sold for 20 sen. Being modest and always told by Mak not to accept money or things from other people, we’d always say “tak mau” (don’t want) but Tok Wan bought it for us anyway. You could imagine our delight! Tok Wan would asked us to finish the ais kepal there and then so that we wouldn’t’ be scolded by Mak or Abah. But when we got home, he would tell them anyway. Hehe.

Quaint little town of Sungai Bakap. The graveyards of Tok Wan and Tok Timah lies at the end on this small town. Photo credit: http://www.penang-traveltips.com/0/s-pics/sungai-bakap-penang.jpg

I remember that Tok Wan used to keep a black gibbon in his small garage. It was just a baby. We called him “Tam” (blackie). We loved to poke the fence to make it agitated so that it’ll make a loud noise. The gibbon sound. And we’d follow him. Tok would scold us for doing that. One day, Tam was carried away by a truck. We looked at him in sadness as he looked solemnly at us from behind the cage on that truck. I think it was the wildlife people who took him away. Gibbons are endangered species and one needs to have a license to keep a gibbon in captivity. 

 

Then Tok Wan had a goose as a pet! Oh…it was a mighty big goose. We called her “Cik Ang”. She was very fierce with other people but gentle with Tok Wan. She’d follow Tok Wan wherever he went. Oh, no…we didn’t like Cik Ang. She liked to chase us around if we got near her. But she would bear eggs which Tok would cook into delicious curry. I saw a photo of Tok Wan with Cik Ang in one of my aunt’s or uncle’s collection. It was a very affectionate photo. 

 

Tok Wan himself was a comic. At night, when the family sat together in the living room after dinner, he would call his grandchildren around and told us stories. All sorts of stories. From jokes to folks lore to horror stories. That talent, I guess, was passed down to one of my uncles whom we call “Pak Tam”. Pak Tam like to tell stories and make jokes until now. He’d put his antics to good use now that he has grandchildren of his own. 

 

During that period of time, there was an ice cream man who rode a motorbike around the housing area especially in the evening. He’d sell ice cream of many sorts. The usual ones were the likes of Nestle or Conetto (coned ice cream). Our favourite was the ice cream sandwich (cut ice cream put between two slices of bread) which cost about 5 or 10 sen. 

 

That ice cream man also had this turning wheel at the back of his ice cream trunk. When we turned the wheel, we could win the chance of getting extra 5 sen, 10 sen 20 sen or free ice creams! We called it ‘ais krim tikam’ (well, it was like a gamble, actually). 

 

At times, we washed the cars of our family members’ and they’d give us some money as ‘upah (wage). We’d share them among ourselves and that’s the money we used to buy the ice cream. There was also a home-based sundry shop just next to Tok Wan’s house owned by an old lady whom we called “Aitee” and her ailing husband, which we would frequent like every hour, every day!

 

Since Abah’s family was quite large, we’d often go for an outing in Penang Island. At times we’d go up to Bukit Bendera, the highest peak in Penang. It was using an old tram at the time and sometimes the tram would get jammed on the way up so we had to ascend by foot via the staircase. No problem for us kids, but it was a mighty feat for the elders. Coming down via the stairs was no issue at all.

Picnic in Batu Ferringhi was a must! The women folk would prepare all sorts of food from home and we’d have a party at the beach. Usually it was noon time til evening. I didn’t like it when Abah took me into the water. I’d scream my lungs out whenever I couldn’t touch the base. But I enjoyed making sand castles. 

 

After the picnic we’d go for dinner at Padang Kota. There used to be a lot of stalls on the roadside. They’ve made a proper hawker centre there. Somehow I don’t find it enjoyable anymore. I’d rather go to Gurney Drive. Anyway, after dinner we’d take a stroll along the street, looking at the lights from the mainland. Sometimes, we’d go to Bagan to eat ‘satay celup’ (pieces of fruits pierced with bamboo skewers and dipped in specially made sauce). We used to love that satay celup. I heard they still exist!

 

Going back to Sungai Bakap was a tiring feat due to the long travel. However, it was worth it. Abah wanted us to keep in touch with his family even though we lived so far apart. 

 

The photos I have here was captured on one of our ‘trips’ to Botannical Gardens. I think I was about 1 year old and Abang was 2. Probably older. Yeah, you could surely see the 70s fashion worn by the ladies. Quite trendy them folks were, including my Mak.

Once upon a time in Botannical Garden, Penang

One of our favourites in coming to Penang was the ferry ride. The ferry services was the only means of transport to and from the mainland. It was quite a long queue especially during peak hours. But there were so many ferries then that it didn’t take us too long to get on one. We’d be excited to look out for the name of the ferry we were about to get on to. Sometimes, when we were in a few cars, not always do we all get onboard the same ferry. So we’d be looking out to my cousins who were on another ferry and we’d be waving and shouting at them across the engine sound. 

 

Abah would usually take us out to the side and watch the ferry move from the dock. We loved the feel of the wind in our faces and also to watch the other ferries passed by. We’d especially love the sprinkle of sea water whenever the ferry hit a big wave. And also the smell of the sea. Just when the ferry would come into docks on the mainland, we’d all get back into the car and ready to go. It was quite fascinating to watch how the supervisors would arrange all the cars very close to each other so that they could get as many cars as possible into the ferry. When it was time to get out, they would let the cars go one row at a time. So Abah would always have to focus on the signal.

My trip to Penang Island in 2013 brought back so many memories of yesteryears.

One of the few remaining ferries

Some things never change

We'd love to look out from the ferry to watch the tide and incoming jetty

Coming back from Sungai Bakap wasn’t quite an enjoyable journey because Mak would load the trunk with so many food stuff. Not only would she take home the nutmeg pickles which Penang is famous for, she would also stuffed the car with belacan (prawn paste - tasty for making sambal / chilli paste but smells very strong). Those days it wasn’t too common to ride an air-conditioned car. So most of the time Abah would wind down the windows, much to our delight. The smell could really make us sick to the stomach and it’ll also stick to our clothes for many many days no matter how thick Mak had packaged the belacan. Sometimes Abah would brought back durians and that would make the smell even stronger! 

 

I went to Sungai Bakap a few years ago. It has changed dramatically! The jungle that was once in front of Tok Wan’s house has been turned into a residential area. I’d be lost finding the place again. But the big drain separating the main road and the housing area is still there, still clotted with murky water. Reminded me of the times when we were told not to play near the drain but sometimes we’d disobey because the other kids were there, catching fish and tadpoles! Kids being kids. 

 

....to be continued.

AMRI ROHAYAT - Part 1

 Through the Lenses of a Sister

  
Amri Rohayat, screen writer, director, founder of Pekan Frinjan, co-founder of Neohikayat and source of inspiration for young indie writers. I knew nothing of all that. All I knew was that he was my big brother. The only one I’ll ever had. This is the story of our adventure together, written as a tribute to who he was to me – my Abang. 

LEPIH – where it all began

Abang was born on 2 October 1968 and I was born in September 1969. So literally we were only 11 months apart and we both have the same birth mark. We were both born in my grandparents’ house (known as ‘Rumah Tok’) at No. 96, Jalan Pekeliling, Kuala Lipis, Pahang. A quaint little wooden house on the slope of a small hill surrounded by fruit trees. To get to the house, one has to walk up a man-made stairs with uneven steps.

Some time in 1970

This photo was taken during Hari Raya in 1971. Mak made those clothes for us, so I was told.

I called him ‘Abang’ (big brother) and he called me ‘Adik’ (little sister). But he’d refer himself as ‘orang’ whenever he spoke to me or to other relatives. When he spoke to my parents, he’d call himself “E”.

Mak originated from Pahang (but my great grandfather, Tok’s father, came from Sumatera). Abah came from the north. He’s been teaching in Pahang for a long time and remained in Pahang til he retired. 

If you drive down to Kuala Lipis (locals mentioned it as “Lepih”) today, you’ll get to a Petronas fuel station at the junction between going to Kampung Tempoyang and going straight to Lepih town. Rumah Tok is just behind that station. It’s not visible from the road, hidden by a lush of trees. There used to be a small slaughter house just behind the station which was torn down when they started building that station. That’s where we used to get fresh supply of cow or buffalo meat, right before they were taken to the market!

Due to no other residential area nearby, we were left with no other choice but to befriend each other. Heh. No, really. He was the only friend I had until he went off to boarding school. Of course, we had our good days and bad days. You know, the usual siblings stuff.

We grew up in Rumah Tok surrounded by love, culture and happiness. 

I would say that our early upbringing in Lepih has provided us with a good foundation in terms of religion, culture and multi-racial tolerance. Mak and Abah giving us the freedom to explore our surroundings with just the right degree of discipline have helped us grow up in a supportive environment.

It was a fun and active childhood because we spent most of our times outdoor.

Carefree Life

No.96, Jalan Pekeliling (photo taken in 2002)

Rumah Tok was surrounded by fruit trees. From the front yard up to the back. Next to his lot was a small rubber plantation. We knew the area very well. We’d play in the rubber plantation most of the time because it was fully shaded. 

When we were being naughty, we’d pour the latex from the collecting cups and took out the dried latex from the bottom of the cups to be rolled up into a ball. Sometimes we did it just for fun. When Tok got to know about it (because the owner complained to him) we got the slash from his sash (a piece of long cloth that he’d wear across his shoulder). So we stopped pouring the latex but we’d still play in the plantation. 

We’d collect the seeds and turn them into games. 

There’s one game where we’d put one seed into each palm and tried to break one of the seeds by clasping our hands tightly. The winning seed was called a ‘Gurka’. Until now, I still don’t know why or how come it was called as such.

Biji Getah (Rubber seeds). (Photo credit: https://ibuberbicara.blogspot.my/2012/12/sambal-biji-getah-aka-sambal-rong.html)

At times we’d play domestic. The seeds would become our meal. We’d place the seeds in coconut shells pretending to cook something. Abang was the Ayah and me, the Mak. Abang would go around picking leaves off my grandmother’s plants pretending that they were fish. Wan, as we called her, planted a lot of ‘puding plants’ species around the house. So we’d have many kinds of fish. Sometimes, he’d come back and said “There was no fish at the market today. Only vegetables” and I’d answer “Laaa…So what’s there to cook?” then he’d say “Cook whatever there is”. Hehe. I think we picked that up from my Tok and Wan. 

Fruit season was our favourite time of the year. Tok had a lot of rambutan trees. We’d be up and down the rambutan trees picking rambutans for the elders. Tok had this special type called the ‘Gula Batu’ (rock sugar) because it was sweet and the texture looked exactly like the rock sugar. But Abang didn’t like to climb the trees. So most of the time I was the one climbing and he’d wait on the ground, while directing me to go here and there and yelling at me if I couldn’t see the rambutans which usually were hidden by the thick leaves. Then I’d throw some rambutans at him out of anger.

Tok also used to plant corns in a few places. He would make holes in the ground with a long pole, sharpened at the end like a pencil. We would then put the corn seeds in the holes and covered them up with soil. When the corns were ready for picking, there would be some with incomplete seeds. Tok said I must’ve planted those because at that time my teeth were still not complete. 

Tok also had a durian orchard across Sungai Jelai, not too far from his house. When it was durian season, we would all walk down to the river. While the elders went across, we would stay at the riverside, bathing in the cool water accompanied by Kak Muna, my cousin who stayed with us. When we got older, we’d follow Tok across to help him picked durians.

We sold the durians on the roadside, just beneath Rumah Tok. Kak Muna was the head of finance so she’d set the prices and we’d call people to stop. We’d also collect rambutans, tied them up with rubber band or ropes and sold them at 20 sen. Sometimes we’d put the rambutans at ‘Kedai Panjang’ a sundry shop near Clifford School which is a walking distance away from Rumah Tok. 

Our business acumen did not just revolve around selling fruits. If you’ve seen the film Seniman Bujang Lapok, there was a scene when a Chinese man came to buy used newspapers and bottles. Remember that? Well, there was this Chinese man whom we called ‘Apek’ who would come to Rumah Tok on weekly basis to purchase those kinds of things. Because the family was fond of eating rice with kicap (black soy sauce) we’d have the bottles kept so that we could sell them to the Apek. He bought the bottles for 5 sen each. We’d also rummage through the house to find used aluminium products. Once, we found an aluminium pot at the back of the kitchen and sold it to the Apek. We got 30 sen for the pot. That was gold for us! Later that night, Mak told us that Wan was still using the pot! But all was well because we used it for sale. Hahaha. 

In the mornings, when we woke up early enough, we could follow Tok to town. He’d drive his Morris Minor and parked outside the rail sidings. Then we’d cross the rail tracks to the Kuala Lipis rail station. Tok would buy his Utusan Melayu from the vendor at the station. Then he’d take us to a Chinese restaurant just outside the station, for breakfast. There was a Malay man selling roti canai at that restaurant. The restaurant owner sold only drinks and toasts. Tok would order hot Milo for us, pour the Milo onto the saucers and we’d sip the Milo from the saucers. Then we’d head on to the post office where Tok would pay his bill. Afterwards we’d go to the market to buy supplies for the day.

Kuala Lipis Railway Station. Gone were the days where this place was the hustle and bustle of this small town.

Tok didn’t eat frozen fish. He’d buy fresh fish from local vendors and also vegetables. His favourite was red spinach. When it was cooked, the soup would turn red and we’d drink the soup as if it was syrup. Tok also reared his own chicken. Whenever he felt like having chicken for meal, he’d slaughter the chicken himself. Yeah, we hardly ate frozen food then. Probably that was why we were very healthy when we were kids. 

Mak would order fresh cow milk from a Punjabi who reared his own cows in Batu 2 (second mile). Every night, the Punjabi would come to deliver the milk. Two bottles of freshly squeezed milk. Mak would heat the milk until it simmered and made us drank it before we went to bed. I hated the taste of the milk even after Mak put some sugar in it. But Abang liked it. 

Kuala Atok – place of more adventures

Before we were of school age, Mak would ‘export’ us back to Kuala Atok where her elder sister resided. Mak Long as we fondly called her, was like a second mother to us. Kuala Atok was a small village in between Kuala Lipis and Raub. Pak Long, her husband, was a retiree from the Royal Malay Regiment. They tended a piece of paddy field just next to a small stream. Well, at that time I thought the stream was quite big but when I visited the place again some time ago, I realised that it was just a small stream. 

We’d have the time of our lives when we were in Kuala Atok. Such freedom! We’d accompany Mak Long and Pak Long to the paddy field. Abang was brave enough to get into the field and helped them to plant. I didn’t dare go in for fear of the big fat leeches, especially when I saw blood oozing from Pak Long’s leg once when he was bitten. Ewww! So I’d just sit by the side. Mak Long gave me a task that is to pull a string which tied some empty cans together. Every time I pulled the string, the cans would knock into each other making a loud noise to scare the birds away. But most of the time I’d fallen asleep. Who wouldn’t? It was out in the open, under the shades of trees with gentle breeze blowing softly. I bet anyone would have dozed off to sleep in that condition. 

When they finished working in the field, Pak Long and Mak Long would take us to the stream for a bath! The moment that we had been waiting for. But it was frustrating sometimes, when we went to the stream quite late in the evening. Then we didn’t get to spend much time splashing around. Mak Long had never allowed us to go to the stream on our own, without any adults. So we had to wait for them to complete their chores or went there with my cousins whenever they were home. If my cousins were home we could go there early in the morning and bathed until late noon. At times Mak Long had to shout for us to come home. 

Gasoline lamp (photo credit: www.irjune.blogspot.com)

When it got dark, we’d watch in awe as Pak Long pumped the gasoline light. We’d shout with joy when the dark suddenly turned bright once it was lighted. Those were the days when such a simple thing could bring much joy.

When it was harvest season, we’d watch Pak Long work to split the paddy from its straw. Then Mak Long would get a few ladies from the village to help her pound the rice. They’d use two types of mortar i.e. the big one and also the small one. Harvest season turned into a feast for the villagers.

Us kids would just make ourselves busy around the elders. Sometimes they’d get us to help. Sometimes they’d just shoo us away. But I’ll tell you what, freshly pounded rice flakes tastes so good! And no, we don’t eat them with milk like corn flakes. We ate it just like that, mixed with some sugar.

Legs are used to work this mortar to lift it up and down. Good exercise for the legs! (photo credit: http://www.wikiwand.com/ms/Lesung)!

This mortar is used by taking turns to pound the paddy in the hole, using the long pole. If they sycronised, it could sound like music. Good exercise for the hands! (photo credit: http://rumpunhajiismaildansaudah.blogspot.my/2014/05/lesung.html)

Bigger and merrier feast in the village were weddings! Weddings in the village involved almost everyone from as early as two weeks before the big day. They would make all sorts of preparations together, especially cooking and setting up the ‘balai’. Balai is a makeshift cover for people to cook, usually set up at the back of the house and for guests to eat, at the front. In the olden days, the balai was set up with wooden stilts and zinc roof. At times they use tree trunks or bamboo for the stilts. Nowadays setting up balai took only just a few hours using steel pole and canvas. 

However, those were merry times. You’d see how everyone from the village converged to help each other for many days and many nights just to celebrate a wedding. 

For me and Abang, those times only meant that we’d have more friends to play with and more food to eat!

-to be continued-