She is Muslim

This piece is inspired from Dina Zaman’s I am Muslim. I have not read her book, but certainly have discovered the IAM2 blog.


“There’s an American Muslim lady living here.” Said a Malay Singaporean.

“Really…as in…”

“As in white American…and she wears the tudung.”

That’s certainly great news - to be able to meet a Muslim, white American and hejab-ed in a place as remote as Mobile, Alabama. There was a sudden rush of euphoria and delight. Alhamdullillah.

“I would love to get to know her.” I said.

There’s so much to ask, so much to learn from this lady. There’s a certain connection. A sister in Islam.

“She has invited me to her house. You can come.”

I was thrilled.



One afternoon, my Malay neighbour called to tell me that she’d be going over to the American Muslim lady home, and asked if I would come. I was ready to go. We’d bring our kids over, as this lady has a young girl about eight or nine years old, and the kids could play while the mommies chat.

So that fine afternoon, we went over to the American Muslim lady's home. She is pretty, young and tall, and the way she dressed that afternoon, in the comfort of her own home, was almost hippy-like. However, there was a certain chaos in her home, from the living room to the kitchen to the bedrooms. She claimed the torrential rain had seeped into her ground floor house, and soaked her carpet. Clothes were strewn on the floor and on the mattress in her daughter’s bedroom. She apologized for the mess, complaining about her brothers’ kids who had came over the weekend, and created the mess. And almost instinctively, she took out a cigarette and lighted it. She continued complaining about her brothers’ wives and their kids, who were rude as they were not raised as Muslims. They came to her house and hoarded the food that she had bought over the weekend, almost US70 worth of food for the week just gone like that. All the while I was listening to her and watching her puffed her cigarettes away. A Muslim hejab-ed lady.

I guess the whole scenario threw me off a bit. It did not matter to me that my Malay neighbour, the one who introduced me to her, also smoked, loved to wear mini denim skirts and baby tees that occasionally displayed her belly button, but when this hejab-ed white American Muslim lady did that, it sort of turned my perception of her upside down. Then there’s this incomprehensible clutter, not only about her house but the state of her life.

After a while, I did ask her “why she became muslim?” Almost instantly, she said, it was the simplicity of the religion. For many years, she was confused, abused and lost and she was seeking something to turn to. Islam gave her peace, and simplicity in her otherwise befuddled life.

She had a brother and father who were hard core addicts. And both of them committed suicide, according to her. She could have been a hard core addict too, she said, if not for Islam, and had contemplated suicide before. I was not too sure about her mother, as at this point, her story was too compelling for me to comprehend. Cruel scenes of her life flashed by me, too harsh for me to digest.

She loved her teenage son and her young daughter, but both had looked different. It was obvious that her teenage son is white, while her daughter is mix. Her daughter has beautiful tan skin, and lovely brown locks – gorgeous in fact. And it will be awfully rude for me to ask where her gene might have come from. She said that her son is not a Muslim, but he will be, Insya Allah. As for her daughter, whom she described as "beautiful, Masya Allah," it was the result of a rape at a party many years ago. She claimed she was attacked by a man that she did not know, and it made her pregnant. She wanted to abort the pregnancy, but knew that the foetus in her was not to be blamed for the things that had happened. She prayed, she said but I was unsure to whom or to what at that point in time of her life. She kept her pregnancy, and gave birth to her daughter. Then she met an Arab Muslim man, either before or after reverting to Islam, again I was unsure and had married him. But the marriage did not last, for reasons that she did not say. However, the Arab man and she were still friends, and in fact, she was working in his company or something of that nature. She said, InsyaAllah, they may get back together. She said, she disliked Arab women. “They are arrogant and obnoxious. They think they are the chosen race.” Those were almost her exact words. They think they were chosen by Allah through his Prophet Muhammad (SAW) to spread Islam. Perhaps, and I can only infer, the treatment that she must have gotten from the relatives of her Arab ex-husband-soon-to-be-husband-again.

Her story had the ingredients of a drama. The bits and pieces that she recounted were at times harrowing, at times hazy for there were other probable missing parts that are only known to her. I don’t know what I brought back from that encounter. But my euphoria and delight of meeting a sister in Islam, subsided at that time. Perhaps I wanted to learn something from her, especially in my seeking into embracing the hejab, but the state of life of this hejabi woman was chaotic, to me, even at that present moment.

Perhaps I failed to see, at that time, the life that she once had - tumultous, and now, despite the chaos in her home and the baggages from her past life that she had to carry through to move her life forward, there was peace, an inner peace that only she knew. I wish I could have known her better, but perhaps I was judging her when I thought I wasn’t and there were no other opportune times to get to know her for she had left the residence to live elsewhere, before I could even figure out my own confusion.

Well-heeled Malay

My Singaporean Chinese colleague told me, “you are one of my rare well-heeled Malay friend.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, “Am I your rare well-heeled Malay friend or am I your rare Malay friend?”

“Both.” She said.

She doesn’t have that many Malay friends, and after knowing me in this short three months, she said that I am different from many Malays whom she knew. The reasons being, I’ve been halfway across the world, and to so many different countries that only she could imagine. Most of her Malay friends, who are very few and far in between, only mentioned JB and Malaysia as their farthest destinations.

I’m not so sure whether that could be counted as well-heeled, but maybe well-travelled.

You see, I have a problem with this definition. From the Merriam-Webster dictionary, well-heeled means having plenty of money. I thank Allah for all the rezeki that he has given me, but surely I don’t have plenty of money.

For one, this colleague of mine lived in a condo they can call their own somewhere almost central in Singapore, whereby I only rent them, and that’s only because I don’t have my own flat. Me - houseless in that sense, but I am grateful for still having a shelter over my head. I saved and scrimp for our next holiday. And we have our own bills and debts to pay that seem part of what our life is all about – bills, fees, debts, mortgage etc. How I wish I could spend without even looking at the price tag.

The reason why I am well-travelled is because I am lucky to have a dad who works with SATS as one of their pioneers. Therefore, he and his family were given free air tickets to any SIA destination every year. But even then, we did not quite make full use of it. Having free air tickets is one thing, having money to spend on himself, his wife and five other children in some faraway destination is another. The first time he allowed me to travel alone, so that I could make full use of this free air ticket, was when I was 15. He told me he could only get the air tickets but I have to cover the other expenses myself. So I begged him to withdraw some of my hard earned savings since I was young, went to London, and bunked in with my cousin who was studying there. Being the travel bug that I am, I worked during the school holidays, between two weeks to a month just to get enough money to cover basic expenses. At that time, I usually bunked at some relatives or friends’ relatives homes. So under my dad’s privileges, I traveled to Los Angeles, Christchurch, South Korea, Manila and the many air trips to KL with him or the family. On my own, or with a friend with the same privileges, I’ve been London, Christchurch again, Perth and Melbourne.

The last time was after I finished uni, and signed up a package for a 33 day Europe tour. I used my Dad’s free flights but paid for the land package, which set me back for a couple of months after starting work because I had to pay a loan that I took for this holiday. That was really awesome! At least, I have covered some of the most expensive countries to travel if I hadn’t had the free air tickets. But I had loans to pay after that, eventhough it was not huge, it was steep for an entry level earner like myself.

After I started work, I lost all rights to those privileges. No more traveling, since it would definitely be a pinch on my very tiny pocket, but I was lucky enough to travel for work. My first working experience overseas was traveling to Kelantan via the KTM to film a drama. That was really hard work, to work with such skimpy budget, what’s more overseas. So much drama over one drama.

Overseas traveling was rosy when I was producer of a fashion programme. I traveled to Paris, New York, Tokyo and Bali and attended New York fashion week, no less. That, shall I conclude, could best described my jet-setting life then.

Then, there were other less high-flying places like Brunei, Bintan and China.

Then came my stint in KL. I was a producer of a travel programme and traveled to quite a bit of the Malaysian states – Cherating, Chameron Highlands, Port Dickson, Malacca, Sarawak.

When I got married, I traveled on our hard earned money to our first destination together – Mauritius for our honeymoon. After we had Afzal, we headed to Melbourne and Gold Coast, and then once again, Melbourne. Those were hard earned cash too.

And by some Divine intervention, hubby received the offer to be posted to Alabama, USA, for one year, and we grabbed at this opportunity to live in a different country. Dare we say, we’d rather spent to see other states in the USA, then to come home to Singapore and not being able to travel that far again. So while living there, we’ve headed to Florida, Atlanta (Georgia), Mississippi, Louisiana, Los Angeles etc.

I’ve always been a travel bug, and am ever-willing to travel for work. However, when Afzal came to the picture, I’d rather stay put for him, but am willing to travel with him

Thus, being well-heeled, I’m definitely not. And if my memory serves me right, I once heard which is statistically unverified, that there were about 400 well-heeled Malays in Singapore. Well-heeled, in this case, to mean having a household income beyond $10k a month. That’s a paltry number considering the number of Malays or Singaporeans in Singapore, but I’m way way below that income level to be part of that statistic. So I’m not well-heeled.

I don’t mind being labeled a rare breed Malay, but then again, what is a rare breed Malay?

What do you call your dad?

Dads will be called by many of us Malays – ayah, abah, bapak, daddy, papa and wonder what else. But how many called their dads - father. Yes, father. As in “Father, dah makan?” “Besok father kerja?” “Mak dengan Father are going for a holiday.”

I called my bapak just that – father. But mak – mak, not mother.

I don’t know how it came about, but parents are the ones who trained their kids to address them by a certain title or name of affection, and so my ayah decided that he be called father. In my younger days, my friends find it weird. How many people have you heard calling their abah – father, eventhough in writing, you may write just that. “My father sent me to school,” for example.

We’ve asked our papa this question, and he just never really thought much about it when he decided to be called father. Perhaps he finds it cute or charming, but I really don’t know. And since we are trained, we can’t think of anything else to call him except father. And funny thing is, this particular title is so synonymous with my dad, that even some of our relatives affectionately called him father. Yes, father, and not pakcik, uncle, granduncle or tok. Some may addressed him as Busu, while others may refer to him as Tok Mahat if they are talking to their children but, the younger cousins and most of the cousins’ kids called him father. At one time, someone even suggested Tok Father.

It looks like father is the word synonymous with him. But with Afzal, he will always be known as datuk.

A Thousand Splendid Suns

I bought The Kite Runner and The Da Vinci Code on the way back to Singapore from Alabama, knowing that it will be a long flight home, and I need something to keep me occupied in case there are no other forms of entertainment and I couldn’t get any forty winks. As I have not read novels in such a long time, I wondered whether I will be able to finish reading these two acclaimed and one partly, controversial novel. I did, much to my own amazement.

I read DaVinci on the flight, and it kept me awake while hubby and little kiddo were catching up with their much needed sleep. I was intrigued, and can’t help wondering the truths or myths of Dan Brown’s claims. It definitely requires much discourse with someone who has read the book, or someone in the know of things, if there is ever such a person.

What’s more astounding is that, I read The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini in double speed time. Sidney Sheldon used to be one of my favourites when I was younger and I have read many of his novels and simply can’t put them down. With The Kite Runner, I am so immersed and felt transported into its fictional realm, and yet it felt so real. I imagined myself being there, observing the going-ons in the lives of Amir and Hassan.

After I reached Singapore, I introduced both books to my dad. He said, he’ll read it sometime. Unsuspectingly, my youngest brother took The Kite Runner since it was highly recommended by me and he took only two days to read it. Seeing that, my dad read the book, and he too, couldn’t put it down, until he finished it.

With both The Kite Runner and Da Vinci Code, it makes me forget the world that I’m in, neglecting people around me eventhough I could be in the same room as them. I felt like I was somewhere else, and I’m not too sure whether a good book is good for me, since it can make me neglectful of my chores and responsibility.

And to my surprise, it was dad who introduced me to A Thousand Splendid Suns, Khaled Hosseini’s second novel. He had bought the book at the airport at a discount since he was a staff there, and is now reading it. He has not finished reading but I have stolen 10 chapters of it in between dad’s read. Again, Khaled has brilliantly transported me back to Herat to share the life of Mariam, as of now, this is the only character I knew that is central to the book at this point in time of the read. And I can’t wait to see what awaits Mariam, or how life is unfolding for her. He is definitely a brilliant storyteller.

“Father, can I read it now, please….?!!!”

I need beautiful thoughts

...and I need to fill my heart with happiness and let this grief go.

For now and until the dark clouds subside, let me buried myself into another world.

Understanding Malay

My British colleague picked up the phone and dialled a number of a Filipino colleague who is at another building to ask about a Filipino applicant's race which stated Malay, instead of asking this Malay colleague who sits 3 seats away. I overheard the short conversation of her surprise discovery that a Filipino is regarded as a Malay. And she asked whether in Singapore, the Filipino should be clustered as a Malay or "Others", the "Others" to mean anyone who is not Chinese, Malay or Indian. I wouldn't know what was explained to her on the other end of the line, but I would have guessed it anyway. The Filipino informant said that they should be clustered as "Others".

Intrigued with this new discovery, my British colleague looked at me, almost beaver-eyed, "how interesting... I mean to think, that Malays in Singapore is 99.9% Muslims but the Malays in Phillippines is 99.9% Roman Catholic." She was trying to swallow this new intriguing nugget of information with much amazement. I guess the "interesting" bit is perhaps, after being here for over five years, she must have thought Malay to be synonymous with being Muslim, only to discover that the Filipinos, who are predominantly Roman Catholics are Malays too. That was an eye-opener for her as well as for a Chinese Chinese colleague who have also heard this for the first time.

I've never really think much of this, as I never had contacts with Filipinos until recently. My husband was the first one to tell me this information as he had contacts with Filipino colleagues, and at that time, I find it interesting too but never bothered to go beyond finding out any information as to what or why they are being called Malay, the same as us. In the first place, is there really an us and them, or are we the same in many ways, except in the religion department?

Currently, I'm working quite closely with four Filipino ladies, all holders of masters degree, and though we are friendly, we have never bonded on a Malay level. Somehow, I've never think of them as Malays, but definitely Filipinos, and I do wonder what they think of me. Perhaps, they have similar view as I do. Maybe one day, we should get together for coffee and discover our Malay-ness or Malay roots, and what does it mean to be Malay. Until then, here's a definition of Malay from this

site

1. member of SE Asian ethnic group: a member of a people who inhabit the Malay Peninsula, Indonesia, and other islands of the Malay Archipelago and the Philippines

2. language of Malaysia: an Austronesian language spoken in Malaysia and in parts of Singapore, Borneo, Sumatra, Java, and surrounding areas. Native speakers: 22 million - 100 million.

Apart from the above definition, besides Malays who have travelled and lived elsewhere, and are not counted as being indigenous, there are indigenous Malays in South Africa, also known as Cape Malay.

So what does being Malay to you means? Especially if you are Filipino, South African, Singaporean, Indonesian, Bruneian or Malaysian...or even immigrant Malays living in other parts of the world.

We will be moving again...

...but still within the confines of Singapore shores.

The property market is the craziest ever this period. While some are getting richer and fatter pocketing money to the tune of millions, there are others, property-less people like me, who just need a nice roof to sleep under, and yet we are strickened by this sudden rise in property prices and the government is not doing anything about it.

Imagine the landlord is asking for a $800 rise in the rental price of the place that we're currently staying. That's really cut throat. Eversince we came back from Singapore, we have not decided to buy a house. Rather than describing our situation as "unsettling", I would prefer to think that we want to be "mobile". Buying a house now would tie us down so we would like to see what our situation will be in say two years time before we decide to buy or not to buy.

Guess we are thinking of going global...hopefully, wherever this bumi Allah will take us. Insya Allah.

Tis the season to be jolly...with lots of damage to the wallet

June school holiday has never been an issue until this year. This year where Afzal is in so-called "dah sekolah betul" (proper school) like as if he was never in proper school before. In other words, no more gallivanting or going on holidays at our whims and fancies or at any time of the year except on official school holidays. But we are kind of a level-headed parent, we never suka-suka do that except when we were in US. The reason is we have to go back to Singapore during our festive occasion or when the occasion was necesary and it does not coincide with the US school's holiday.

Since this is the season to be jolly, we had done many things jolly or otherwise. Afzal did pretty well in the first half of school and since he will be going through or rather went through a "coming of age ceremony", mama gave him a surprise.

Nintendo DS lite with all the works. Yes, the damage was quite huge as mama bought herself a digital camera too.

Circumcision ceremony for Afzal and his two other cousins. Pictures and blog to be posted at multiply soon, real soon when Mama finds the time to upload the pictures in her laptop at home.

A holiday trip to A'Famosa with the hubby's siblings, nieces and nephews. We stayed at a 4 bedroom bungalow with a pool and that was a blast for the kids. More pics and update later, if ever.

Homework to catch up with since Afzal has to write about his holiday, and guess what, something happened to the Nintendo DS Lite barely two weeks of conception and it was all partly due to mama's negligence, yes mama's, not Afzal. Another damage both to the expensive toy and mama's purse again maybe.

Till mama feels sane again...