Broken Family

People lament the high rate of divorces among married people nowadays. I am not sure if the relative rate of divorces is higher now than in the past. Divorce is a way out for married couples who have difficulties in living together peacefully. While this is true for the couples, their children suffer a lot from their parents' divorces.

I was 12 when my parents split. My siblings and I returned from school one day only to find the house was quiet and there was nothing to eat. We could not find our parents. By the end of the day, we discovered that Father had sent mother to our maternal grandmother's house in Dungun about 80km away.

My initial feeling upon discovering our parents' apparent split was of a great relief, not that I hate my mother but I hate their frequent disagreements and quarrels. I felt that finally we would have 'peace' in the house.

As time went by, we experienced a lot of psychological discomfort from the split. Members of our extended family started taking sides on any issue. We stayed with our father instead of sticking with mother. The reasons for this were that Father insisted that he would raise us and that Mother was "poorer" than Father. The absence of Mother meant that most household chores had to be done by us ourselves. Decisions have to be made by us - all primary schoolchildren - on anything in our daily life. Father worked away from home and when he came back he was too exhausted to do the tasks that were previously done by Mother.

Father remarried soon after and our stepmother was a wonderful lady. But the tension in our extended family did not abate since the split even until later years.

The stress on our family was too much for us to cope. Father vented his anger on my sister until one day she ran away from home. I went to secondary school and stayed in a hostel and for about a year I was afflicted by hysteria. These events caused me and my siblings to grow up on our own without much guidance and filial emotional support. These shaped our emotional outlook in later years that most of the time led to difficulties in interpersonal relations.

For married couples who have problems that may lead to divorces, think about the negative impact that it cause on their children before they walk-out on their marriage. The emotional scars remain for the rest of their children's life.

Tribute to a Model Father

Father's Day was celebrated last week by most people. Glowing tributes were written by grateful children whose life were shaped by their respective fathers. I too cannot afford to ignore my own father's positive deeds that greatly help shape my comfortable life. I am the only one among my siblings who underwent strict upbringing by my father during my younger days. He insisted that I study every night, be punctual in every activity, 'forced' me to rear a cow - this help shape my skills in managing resources - when I was in standard six etc. He visited me at the hostel in town in my secondary years once-a-month. I can still 'see' now his heavily-perspired face at the hostel gate enquiring about my welfare and at the end of the visit he gave me a ringgit - yes a ringgit! - for my whatever I need. He then cycled back home for about 25km away from my hostel. He cycled for 50km just to see me at the hostel. Nowadays I went to my sons' hostels in my 2.5 MPV!

My father changed jobs a number of times. His last 'position' was that of a general helper at a used car outlet owned by an Ipoh-born Chinese boss. His last drawn salary was about RM700.00 per month. With that three-figure salary he saw me through university, bought me a motorcycle, feed us, paid for my brother's driving license etc.

My father passed away three years ago. He left about RM78,000.00 in his Tabung Haji account and four pieces of lands when he died. It is a small amount for others but having seen my father struggling from his younger days until late in life, I was surprised to see that amount that he left for us. What this means is just that my father keeps 'giving' me money even when he is no longer around. A small piece of rubber land gives me about RM100.00 nett per month, courtesy of my late father.

In life and in death, my father provides for me....! There's no way I could re-pay the services of my father other than praying for his well-being in the hereafter! Happy Father's Day...I wish all children appreciate their respective father's deeds and love!

Cap Ayam

In one of my recent postings, I talked about the word skodeng, which comes about from the word scout den. There is another word or rather a phrase or a term that originated from my alma mater i. e. cap ayam!

Cap ayam means something too ordinary (koman, from the word common!) bordering on mediocrity. If someone says you are cap ayam he means you are mediocre, incapable of performing up to a certain standard. But why ayam? Everybody takes chicken nowadays, and very few young people take fish. There is nothing fishy here. On the contrary, cap ayam that leads to this phrase was - and I believe still is - a brand of sardine or canned mackerel. It was the better canned mackerel during my schooldays than a few others.

During my schooldays in my teens, sardin cap ayam were served to hostellites who didn't take chicken or other cooked fish. Usually a table was reserved for this susbstitute menu for those picky eaters. The members of the table changes according to the main menu served each day.

In later years, friends joke that one is considered (members or consumers) of cap ayam if he is different from the mainstream and too ordinary in life - and later on in work and any other sphere of life! Recently the term "cap ayam" appeared in a Malay daily hinting at similar non-performance of the Nation's sports team!

Cap Ayam, a good brand but leads to a not-to-be-proud-of meaning!

'Til Death Do Us Part

‘Til death do us part!’ that famous marriage vow uttered by married couples. Some people do not like to talk about deaths in their daily life. Death usually brings sad moments to most of us. However, I have a peculiar habit or hobby i. e. reading the obituaries. Obituary comes from the Medieval Latin word, obituarius meaning death. Obituary is a notice of the death of a person, often with a biographical sketch, as in a newspaper.

During my secondary school days (in the 1970s), I spent 90 minutes each day reading the English daily supplied to our hostel. I read the newspaper literally from cover-to-cover and in the process I too read the obituaries!

What can one get from reading the obituaries? A lot. First I learned how to draft an obituary (sort of an advertisement or a notice) in the right and proper format. As the event “covered’ in an obituary involves people at their sad moments care has to be taken in the choice of words and phrases.

The most common phrase in an obituary is that such-and-such is said to have “passed away peacefully…” and then he/she is “leaving behind…” and here my interests lie.

Firstly, I like reading the list of those left behind by the deceased’s’: spouse(s), children, grandchildren and so on. Some list everyone with their full titles and relationships. Others include their present or past employment/position and great cities they worked in.

As Malaysia is a multi-cultural country, I find it enjoyable to read families that have more than one ethnic groups in them, of course through inter-marriage. It is good to see the list of a deceased’s descendants comprising of Moslems and Non-Moslems, Malays and Non-Malaysia, Europeans as well Asians. Through obituaries you can see good values arising from these multiple-ethnic families who build their life based on harmony and peaceful coexistence. I am sure it is not easy for a son or a daughter to marry outside their ethnic group in the first place and to see them survive until the death of their parents means a lot at this time of our overly-conscious of our ethnic origin as fanned by politicians of all colours! Next time you read the newspapers please do not forget to also read obituaries, my friend. There is a lot to gain from that habit.

Be Careful With Your Words!

Every Moslem pilgrim is reminded time and again by anecdotes of the hajis experiencing embarrassing phenomena - in some cases for all to see - while in the Holy Land. In most cases the anecdotes or true stories depict 'retributions' from the Almighty to the sinful mortals while they are in the Holy Land. There are even books written on this. I don't know how many Moslems who have skeletons in their respective closets choose to forestall their once-in-a-lifetime journey for fear of embarrassing incidences that may befall them for their sins.

Me? Like any other fellow pilgrims we were told to watch our words lest they become du'as that may be answered immediately. Lo and behold if your not so pure thoughts that pass through your mind while looking at something 'weird' or 'strange' suddenly being 'classified' as du'a and are answered by the Almighty. I find this a bit unsettled, as it seems Allah the Omni-Knowing is dumb or cannot differentiate the wishes from the mere thoughts of his creatures.

Anyway, that's not for me to answer. I had that kind of experience too. You see the African pilgrims sense of dress is a bit off-the-mark. And from their appearance, it is as if they do not keep their physical cleanliness and hygiene up to an acceptable standard. Once I was praying in the Grand Mosque and an African was in the row in front of me. His feet didn't look clean. Adding to that was that he put his slippers - yes the wet selipar jepun - next to his feet on the gleaming marbles of the Grand Mosque floor. Wish I was not praying near him! went my thought. I winced at the sight of his feet. After the compulsory prayer the African performed the auxiliary one. So did I but I had to move up half-a-row and ouch I had to soon after that perform my prostration with my face right on the spot where the African's selipar jepun was 'parked' a few minutes before that and my left eye can see the scaly and flaky skin of his right foot next to my face.

Be careful with one's words while in the Holy Land! but to me this was not a matter of God being ignorant or vengeful. It was more of keeping your inner sense pure while there and here too!

Till Death Do Us Part!

That's the vow taken by mostly Christian or Western brides and bridegrooms when they tie the nuptial knots. Since I first started reading English newspapers, I became fascinated by the obituary columns. Obituary comes from the Latin word obit meaning death. An obituary is a notice of the death of a person, often with a biographical sketch, as in a newspaper.

A normal obituary in a Malaysian English newspaper include the photo of the deceased with the title, well, Obituary or for a Moslem al-fatihah. Below it there is usually a portrait of the deceased. Then come the announcement saying that the deceased passes away peacefully at such and such time. The part that interests me most is the list after the phrase ...leaving behind:-!

Some people just mention a short list of names, while others leave a full list of full names with the titles and awards mentioned. Still a few add the names of their offsprings' worthy employers or professions in the list. What is of main interest to me is to decipher the type of families of the deceaseds. Some left behind a myriad of descendants of the same race, while quite a number have descendants marrying into other races. I find it interesting to read the list of persons left behind by someone that contains names from various races. Some have Malays, Chinese or Indians, Norwegians, German in their family. More so their descendants are sometimes of different religions. Then I would try to match the names of their grandchidren's names with their respective children. This is easy if say a Chinese leaves behind mostly daughters or if there are mat sallehs or Moslem

Second Entree anyone?

Things you do not know about may cause unnecessary embarrassment to anyone who is not careful enough in any situation. I was once accompanying my boss - a Dato' and later Tan Sri - on an official trip to New Zealand a few years back. It was my first trip there and my overseas trips were not that many and not very frequent in my career.

We were entertained to a dinner by the host at a posh restaurant on our first evening there. After we were seated, waitresses came to our table with the menus. One waitress attended to each guest. Everyone were busy making orders to their respective waitress-in-attendance, yours truly not exempted too. I didn't know much about the type of food on the menu shown to me for the simple reason that I was and am just a kampung lad and secondly all were in French!

Before the waitress assigned to me went off, she showed something to me on the menu and asked if I would like to have it also in my order. My unthinkable "yes" came out before she finished her suggestion.

The entree came...everyone started savouring the mouth-watering small things in our respective plates. After everyone had finished, the waitresses collected the plates back. Next minute came only on small plate to our table, with small object in it. It was only for me...also an entree! I was the most junior member of the delegation. Imagine everyone had to do nothing for the next five minutes - the longest in my life - trying very hard to 'finish' a small portion of the 'food' before they served the main course next! No one made any comment, but the look on my boss's face clearly indicated his displeasure. But boss, how would I know that 'my' waitress suggested me an additional entree, and no one else ordered two entrees!

Imagine yourself in my shoes at that time! Be careful when one is a in strange situation. Better follow the crowd to be safe especially on something one knows very little about. Ohh that little piece of easily-spilled something on my small plate on a nice table in a posh restaurant in Auckland, New Zealand!

Skodeng?

Do you know the origin of the word in the title of today's posting? Skodeng means "the act of peeping (toms)". If you look up the Kamus Dewan a few years back you did not find the word in it. I am not sure if it is in now.

Believe it or not the word orginates from my school, the Sultan Sulaiman Secondary School, Kuala Terengganu. The school was, and is situated between the Kuala Terengganu-Kuantan federal trunk road and the South China Sea shore. The Boys Hostel was at the back, literally next to shore. The Girls Hostel meanwhile was further to front near the said trunk road. Very few boys had a chance of going near the Girls Hostel for the simple reason that the classes are on the far side of the school area. The nearest classroom block, during my schooldays, to the Girls' Hostel was block C, a new block then. Then the word "near" was perhaps inaccurate. Nowhere any boy could get a glimpse of the girl hostellites in their hostel from Block C - the so-called nearest building to it - even during our nightly preps hours.

But then there was - I am not sure if it is still there nowadays - a small building between Block C and the Girls' Hostel but slightly closer to the Hostel. It was the 'Scout Den'. Scouts used the small building to carry out their activities during the day and once in a while they had campfire there.

A few naughty boys from the Hostel used that small block as the hiding place to watch the girls in their hostels at night. I was and am doubtful if they were able to catch a good glimpse of the girls unless they brought along binoculars. It was a common phrase among us boys at that time that to "go to (the) Scout Den' means to take a peep at the girls gostellites. If you know how the Terengganuans contrite the Standard Malay words, the "scout den" (pronounced: skaoqdeng) the word eventually becomes skodeng to mean "peeping (toms)". Horh, mung gi skaoqdeng (skodeng) ker tu?" [Ah hah you went peeping?].

I was surprised to read in national Malay newspaper some months back that the word skodeng has been accepted as a standard Malay word. Perhaps I should check the Kamus Dewan now!

Talking About Firsts

Nobody remembers the no.2! People don't appreciate the second this or the second that. Everyone knows the highest mountain in the world but who can tell me the second highest?

I get my first 'car' after seven years working in a local institution of higher learning. It was not exactly a 'car' or a sedan but rather a small mini-van. It was so basic that it had no third row seats, no air conditioning. It was a 1000 cc minivan. It was far from elegant.

Like the first love I treasure my first car a lot. Despite its small-ness, my family and I went to almost every nook and corner of Selangor in it. From Sabak Bernam to Dengkil up to Batang Kali, Bukit Jugra and so on. It also had a chance of appearing in one of Dato' Yusoff Haslam's Gerak Khas series on tv. No...no neither my minivan nor I was paid for the appearance. It was not involved in any high or low speed chase either. Its three minutes of fame was due to the street fighting scenes were shot near my office car park. And my little automobile was in the background. My children who were still small at that time were yelling when my minivan appeared on screen...oblivious to the tv cops running after a few crooks! My first car! it was small but it 'pernah keluar tv tau!"

Jumping the Queue

We always hear from the media that our Hajis i. e. pilgrims are the most-disciplined among the Moslems performing the Haj and that we Malaysian Moslems pose little problem to the Saudi authorities.

Are we so? Yes to a certain extend. I happened to be in a group comprising mostly people from the land development schemes. Initially I welcome their company as they are very friendly, easy-going and not aloof at all. Everywhere we go fellow pilgrims always enquire about us and make friendly chats.

It is well-said that Malaysians are well-fed or put it in another way we are so well-endowed with food. So there is no reason for a Malaysian to fight for food.

My experience in the Holy Land with a sizeable number of hajis seemed to demolish that myths. My first shock came when I witnessed a mad rush for food at the hotel's cafe. There was definitely no queue...before your hand can reach a spoon - yes a spoon at the buffet table - other hands - females and males - swarmed the area and by the time the crowd went away I couldn't get a spoon for my soup. Instead there were spilt liquids all over the table.

The second embarassing time was during meal times. A pilgrim was entitled to a packet food each. Again there were no queues! And the hajis and hajjahs who succeeded in getting the food packets were seen carrying five to ten packets each. And before long, many pilgrims were left without the allotted food packets. Very embarrasing to the hotel workers. At one stage, an announcement has to be made to the effect that the pilgrims were urged not to take 'extra' food packets!

That's the other side of Malaysians that I didn't realised existed.

Long Time No see

I was surprised when a friend mentions that I have not made any new posting after January 25th or so. I can be considered as a very disciplined person but unfortunately this good trait of mine does not extend to updating my blogs. Thousand apologies for that. Insha Allah I shall try to resume my postings from today.