"oh my kids don't speak Malay"

I do wonder why some parents are proud of the fact that their children are not able to speak their mother tongue well. My son's ability in his written assessment and communication to his grandparents in Malay is a long way to go in being near native, but I know he will get by. I know I can do more to get him to speak Malay "like water" as in fluently and I would be a shame for myself to know of a non-Malay who could even do higher mother tongue. But when I hear remarks by some other Malay parents who seem to gloat when they say, "oh my kids don't speak/understand Malay," it's like as if they are ashamed of their own language. I do wonder the pride they have in being monolingual. Wouldn't it be advantageous to be bilingual? And especially so if it's in your native tongue? So here's a little story of a mother mouse and her mice. I hope it will make those parents think before they say those words above.

A mother mouse was with her litter of mice when they bumped into a fearsome looking cat. Immediately the little mice hid behind her in terror. Mother mouse, with all her might, tried to look strong and stare straightly at the big terrifying cat. Though her heart was beating really fast and beads of perspiration was running down her hair, she stared at the Cat with piercing eyes and then she shouted in her loudest voice, "Woof, woof!" The cat, thinking there was a dog behind her ran away as fast as it could.

The little mice were so proud of their mother and her fast thinking as they think that they couldn't have done what their mother did. So this is what their mother said,"It's always good to know a second language."

My beautiful sunset

As she looked out of the balcony one evening, she was mesmerized by the beautiful sunset. She calls out to me, "appreciate this, don't you just want to sit here all evening and watch the sun goes down?"

The golden showers of the evening ray was captivating. It was Allah's miracles, day in and day out, and yet we failed to recognise it sometimes. As I looked out of my balcony window, the sight that beholds me was beautiful but it was not mine. I can only appreciate my blessings, the blessings that He has given me - the beautiful sunset, the bird's eye view of the city below me and the gift of my sight.



As the sun glides behind the buildings, and disappear beneath the clouds, daylight dwindles, and the sky and earth were once again slowly but surely cloaked in darkness. It was time for the call of the azan. It was time for Muslims to come in prayers during that magical moment, glorifying Him for all of His blessings upon us.

The path is service of others...

"The path is service of others, not prayer beads and holy robes." Sa'di.

This reminds me of da'wah or missionary work. It is not about looking saintly but about what you can do with yourselves and your heart in the service of Allah. It calls to me, I believe, first about changing myself in my heart and in my practices before I call others.

It reminds me of my colleague, a Catholic, whose cubicle is next to me. She calls herself a "modern nun". She has decided to dedicate her life to serving her religion, abstaining from marriage like what a nun does, except she is not clothed in that manner. She is a career woman, currently reading her phD part-time, and believes in her calling, having isolated herself from her family, living with like-minded individuals in her duty to serve her God.

So when I read those words of wisdom above, I agree with what my colleague is doing -"serving her religion without robes and prayer beads" in this case without the "habit". If I were to base this to the concept of Islam, I can still be of service to Allah, and yet not deprived myself from the pleasures of being a wife and a mother, unlike her.

Allah has not given us anything more if He knows we cannot handle it. But His challenges were given to us because He knew best. As stated in the Al-Quran:-

"Allâh burdens not a person beyond his scope." Surah Al-Baqarah (2:286)

Allah has given us this life to fulfil his mission, and the promise of the garden of paradise with his mercy and love. If only we open our hearts to it.

Amin-Amin Ya Rabbal Alameen.

Seeking His blessings

It was a major wake up call…

Things that you thought would never happen to you or your family, and then it did.

I must have been deep in my slumber, too tired for my own good, only to realize how late I was.

But I believe, that if anyone is sincere in seeking the truth, he will find the truth, whether in the Quran or the Bible or the Torah. May his heart is sincere in seeking the truth, and that he finds it, and leads all of us to the truth.

I read the first chapter of the holy Al-Quran with its English translation, and Al-Fatihah has never meant so beautiful and so inspiring to me until now. It feeds my almost empty soul. By reciting the Al-Fatihah with much understanding, I now know what is that I’m asking for from my one and only Lord.

***

There were many times that I felt the unfairness of life, and especially when it impacts my personal life. There were many moments that I felt I could have it better, or even questioned why others have it easier or better than me? But I forget, there are many others who have it much worst than me. I forget the blessings that He has bestowed on me. Whether it took only a second for him to answer my prayer, or nine years, He had and will answer my prayers, but if only I did not forget to prostrate five times a day to him. I have been so forgetful, buried in my own ignorant, so how can I deserve the blessings that I am seeking from Him. But I know He has given me so much more than I could ask for, and I keep asking and asking from Him.

***

Beautiful Ramadan is calling, beautiful Ramadan is coming, and I can’t wait…I can’t wait for syaitan to be chained, and I can’t wait to perform my terawih which I had done for the first time only in the last Ramadan. It was soul-filling. I seek that He gives me strength and energy to do it again. May Ramadan brings more blessings to all of us, and may He fulfilled all our prayers especially the prayers of our mothers and mothers alike...Ameen.

It's not quantum theory, but just simple physics...

I was honoured to be sitting at the lunch table with a group of people who were experts in the field of Physics, and rightly so, some of them could be called Physicists. They talked about quantum physics, photo-electrics and some unheard of terms. They are normal people, like you and me, with children and family to think about. However, at the same time, they are rather simple - they believe in taking the public transport out for our lunch buffet at Sakura than ride a car, as some of them believes it saves the environment and the pockets. If their cause is about saving gaia, then I would relent but I am sure these are people who certainly have fatter pockets than me, and could afford a car, however they choose not to.

If truth be told, I actually studied Physics in junior college, which was definitely a disaster subject for me. In secondary school, I was studying pure Chemistry and a combination of Physics and Biology. At the end of 'O' levels, I just had it with Chemistry, and thought of switching to something more palatable. I don't know what I was thinking, and the college did not quite offer much choices, so I ended up taking Physics, Economics, Mathematics C and Art. Yes, Art as in drawing and painting. It was a weird combination, of which I'm the only one out of two students taking that combination. As such, I was label as a rebel.

At that time, the arts were frowned upon, as if being in the arts stream means you are doom for life. Though I was in the science stream, I had a very hard time trying to convince my teachers what I was doing was well- for my own passion and good. The teachers did not believe in me, and I had close friends from secondary school who drifted apart because they stuck to the subjects they knew best, and they were all in the same class except me, the rebel. I had a friendship crisis too.

My Physics tutor did not help as I couldn't quite understand him. Maybe he was knowledgeable in the content area but he certainly cannot teach. He was a Chinese educated Physics teacher and that made it harder for me to understand his articulation. I was lost and clueless, and when a junior English educated Physics teacher came to take over the class, he in fact took over the experiments I had to do, and did it for me. In the end, I did not learn to wire up the experiments to light up the bulb, because junior Physics teacher just did it for me, instead of teaching me.

I was told by my class tutor, who was also my maths teacher and the college's discipline master to drop Art when I was in second year. He told me I could not live with the Arts. Art as a subject will not feed me. He told me not to drop the sciences or the maths, as that will guarantee a future. I was half-baffled by such ideas.

My Physics tutor was disheartened with my Physics results but was not sure whether I should drop Physics. I was doing badly, but he still feels that perhaps there is still hope (in me) as Physics (the sciences and maths) will have a better future than Art. Though he was not as fierceful and forceful as my class tutor, he suggested it be best I dropped Art.

My Economics tutor had it with students who took four subjects instead of three. Basically she just did not believe that her students can manage four subjects, so I was asked to drop one subject, any one, economics included. She refused to sign my form that stated I will be taking all the four subjects, as she insisted I should drop one. I left the classroom and cried buckets at the sports hall.How could she make life difficult for me when I already had it so difficult?

My Art teacher insisted that I shouldn't drop Art, and disagreed with my Maths and Physics tutor for thinking that there is no future with Art. She was so furious that she threatened me in fact to stick to Art and dropped my worst subject (which happens to be Physics then) or economics (since the economics teacher did not mind). Again, I cried buckets. I just did not know what to do.

After calming myself down and talking to a friend, I decided to tell all my teachers that I'm sticking to all four subjects, and not dropping anyone of them and at the same time, promised that I will prove them wrong. I will show them that I can do it though deep in my heart, I knew I would be dead for making such a promise.

When my 'A' level results came, the subject that pulled me up was none other than Art. I didn't do well for Physics but I somehow I already knew how difficult it was since I couldn't comprehend it at all. However, I am proud to prove to my maths and economics teachers, who didn't quite believe in me that Art help me, Art gave me a future. I gained acceptance to the university partly because of it when most of my classmates who only had three subjects and didn't do well for one, couldn't.

I was thrilled, I was elated, and I had my Art teacher to thank for. I will always remember her to this day for simply believing in me.

So teachers, since teachers day is just around the corner, do have some faith in your students. Because sometimes they are already having a hard time coping in school, and they don't need that extra bad advice, or the feeling that they are a failure. Don't make them feel like a failure even if they are doing badly. They need encouragement, and sound advice. Really sound advice. Because not everyone is good in the maths and sciences, and that I can guarantee, there is also a future in Art and the Arts.

I'm sure this is simple physics to understand. :)

Am still trying...

With all the goodies given to encourage marriage and children, I am wondering whether someone like me can be given help as well - government or divine help.

I'm happily married, I have a son. But I would really like to have more kids, but as I have always told well-intentioned relatives who kept asking when is the next one, I would just say my queue number is still not up yet. Or rather Allah has not decided to give me this extra rezeki for only He knows. For a more tongue-in-cheek replies, I would respond in the likes of my brother-in-law, 'the sperm swims backwards'. Yes, my sis and her hubby have not pro-create too for their own reasons that I know not of.

I was preggie with Afzal only one month after marriage, and now I wondered why it has taken that long to conceive a second one. Afzal is already 8 years old this year, and though we have tried since he was two years old (whether very hard or otherwise), it has not borne fruits. I've seen my gynae, and have gone for traditional uruts, and pop some herbal pills, and up to date, still no buns in the oven. We don't think we will ever consider IVF. We have conceived naturally before.

And the clock is ticking. I'm already past 35 - the age that I thought I should stop pro-creating. Am 36 this year, with hubby claiming 40 and the clock is still ticking.

We've talked about this. If we are still not having any, hubby seems contented to have just one. He does not want to reach retirement age and find that his kids are just entering preschool. However, I am still hopeful, and though cost of raising kids are high, I'm sure with His grace and blessings, everything will fall in place.

I'm still hopeful until perhaps before I reach 40...?

Ayat-Ayat Cinta

Hubby and I watched the DVD last weekend, and lo and behold, hubby tearied during the hospital scene whereby Fahri was holding Maria's hand. [Was thinking to myself, sedih bangetke?, as usually hubby is not turn on by soappy stuff] However, I have to admit Fahri's acting (the cries), was really heartwrenching!

"It was a realistic and a good movie." Hubby said at the end of it.

I did tear myself but because I was feeling more for Aishah, the self-sacrificing wife.

At night, during our pillowtalk, I told dear hubby, "When a woman gives consent to the husband to take a second wife, it is because she wants to make him happy and make the family happy, but that does not mean, she will be happy."

As usual, hubby's response is hmmm.

Mosque Building Fund

I don't mind giving to the mosque building fund, but if it just simply to beautify mosques but the mosques still remain unattractive to youth and the teaching pedagogy of the islamic classes is still not attractive to some others, I don't quite agree with having even a small portion of my income to this cause. I would prefer to give to "ilmu" - something that perhaps we cannot see with the naked eye because it is not physical, but it will benefit the community and our mankind in the long run.

I have had some feedback whereby mosque kindergartens are always in short of resources - materials for the children and classrooms and lack of trained teachers. Another grapevine I hear is that, which is of course without evidence, that kids that come from mosque kindergartens are not able to read as well.

I would rather give a portion of my income to enhance the resources of the mosque kindergartens and the skills of their teachers. But not merely to enlarge, rebuild and beautify mosques!

Seribu tahun

This is one local song that I so fell in love with. Really. The music, melody and lyrics give me the goosebumps, however, the mtv failed to capture the true essence of the song.

This is a beautiful song - it made me visualise a beautiful epic film to go with it. It reminds me of one movie that I used to watch featuring the late Christopher Reeve and the elegant Jane Seymour. The title of the film is

Somewhere In Time and the byline captures it all - "He sacrifice life in the present to find love in the past." It's like waiting seribu tahun for that love, and in the case of this movie, it's literally finding love in a different century, crossing time through a thousand years. It's does not make common sense - the time travel thing - but then again, true embodied and passionate love should not make sense after all, isn't it? Anyway, it's a movie.

I could figure a Malay movie of this nature - transforming love into another century. It will feature that guy who played Haikal (Razif Hashim) from Gol and Gincu and perhaps the enigmatic Tiara Jacquelina in an aged make-up effects. Of course, we would have a cameo appearance of Imran Ajmain as some bloke from the past in his polished baju kurung Telok Blangah and samping kain pelekat with high songkok.I'm sure he will look regal!

Of borrowed titles...

I was seating on the red couch with hubby next to me watching tv quite absent-mindedly one evening, when suddenly, this Malay drama's trailer with English voice-over captured my attention because of its title. My jaw dropped as I turned my attention towards hubby and my eyes just opened wide.

"Yes, it is..." was his non-chalant respond, almost knowing what I might have ask eventhough I have not spoken a word.

I shook my head, heaving a longggg sigh.

"Oh well, darn, knowing them (very well), they'll definitely do it despite...(shaking head again)...whatever." If I was a juvenile, I was contemplated to make the letter "L" with my fingers on my forehead. But I merely shook my head, and just kept my peace.

So here I'm blogging, and decided not to keep my "piece."

Once, way after I had left the company, I was asked by the executive producer on my thoughts if they were to have a new season of Jeritan Sepi. Yes, I'm talking about Jeritan Sepi, the highly successful and award-winning social drama shown on MediaCorp TV12 Suria, which premiered in 2001. The first season of Jeritan Sepi won the ‘Most Popular Programme’ Award in Suria’s Pesta Perdana 5. This Award is based on the viewership figures of all programmes shown on Suria in that year. The series also sets a record as the highest ever rated programme of 8.2% P4+ (viewers 4 years old and above) which is equivalent to 306,000 viewers, since the channel’s launch in 2000. For more info, click here.

"It's a possibility," I answered, as I thought of a third season of Jeritan Sepi but of course, the new team needs to sit down and peel all the issues and problems and see how the story can develop where it was left off after the second season. It will not be an easy task.

"But what if it's an entirely different cast and different storyline...?" asked the executive producer.

"Errrr........."

I cringed at the thought, as I know, this was not the first time that they had borrowed popular titles. And though it was not the idea of the executive producer to borrow the popular title, it looks like it's a battle that she'd rather not get into with "unchanged minds" of some people.

Borrowing a popular title does not make a popular drama - even if it's the second season of the show. Look at Felicity - the popular American teen drama flopped in its second season. This is exacerbated if the entire casts and storyline were entirely different. What's more if some of the key personnel who were instrumental to its success in the first season where not part of the new team. Even a young kid understands this equation.

Popular Title = Popular Drama (Wrong!)
Borrowed Popular Title = Drama when current cast and storyline has nothing to do with the original show! Duhhh?!

It's excruciatingly painful to see this unoriginality stemming from one of the more experience and perhaps wise production team. And the most tiring, it's their inability to comprehend a simple formula, and their overriding egoistism as if they know all, when yet in fact, they don't seem to have the slightest clue or simply refuse to accept a simple logic. And they are running a station for the consumption of the masses.

Even during the first season of Jeritan Sepi, the then people at the station was not completely convinced that Jeritan Sepi could make it on its own, so it decided to ride on a previous popular drama - Selagi Ada Kasih - the one featuring Eda Farida as the kidney patient. As a result, if viewers can recall, Jeritan Sepi's opening title was tagged as Selagi Ada Kasih - Jeritan Sepi.

Because of the unprecedented and phenomenal success of Jeritan Sepi season 1 - it overshadowed the previous success of Selagi Ada Kasih - Jeritan Sepi was given the green light to stand on its own in season two, but not without every single somebody out there from the station and even outside agencies wanting a piece of the successful pie. The second season which was aptly and simply titled Jeritan Sepi, however did not make it at the "box-office" like the first season as it became a case of "too many cooks spoil the soup".

Now this so-called third season is titled as Jeritan Sepi - Memburu Kasih. Why not just "Memburu Kasih"? Doesn't the new team have the confidence and the ability to ensure that their new story of gambling, elderly neglect and a Malay/Muslim couple living the high life of women, sex and booze can perhaps be a success if all the ingredients are right? Why borrow popular titles time and again?

It seems that lessons were not learnt from a previous mistake of borrowing the popular Rahsia Perkahwinan title. The first season of Rahsia Perkahwinan featured the award-winning veteran actor S Effendy who jollied his CPF money with a Batam girl leaving his heck-care-in-appearance wife bitter. The second season, which was a totally new cast and storyline, featured singer-turned-actor Fauzie Laily as the unconvincing new stepfather, and Rahima as the wife who refused sex with hubby. The second season did not make it. The second season did not usurp the previous success ratings of the first season of Rahsia Perkahwinan. The simple truth and logic is out there. Open thou eyes. There's no one else to blame - not publicity or the viewers - it's just a simple logic.

It's time to get over borrowing. Move on. The days of Miss Universe is over! If you know what I mean.

The road less travelled

Robert Frost, entitled "The Road Not Taken"

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Change is a good thing...

We have moved...to a bigger, brighter and breezier place. Though pricier than before, it is still less than what the previous landlord was asking for.

Yet to find the time to enjoy the facilities as I'm still unpacking but will promise myself to do so, I have to do so!

I really need a real break...

Embrace change...for whatever it is.

Destiny detoured...

After I came home last Thursday, I did not return to The Alchemist. I have bought The Alchemist and two other paperbacks at the same time at an MPH sale at the Expo and on that Thursday evening, one of the paperbacks still tightly wrapped in its clear plastic beckoned me.

It was another of those 'destiny' book, and for that night alone, I read 48 pages of it as compared to 28 pages of The Alchemist on the first day of reading. However, you can't compare one with the other as one is a work of fiction, while the other is a non-fiction.

After ploughing 48 pages, I am glad to say that I was less perturbed about my own situation. You would understand the situation if you have read the previous blog entry. It made a difference in the way I see things. Within that hour or so, and after 48 pages, a more positive mind emerge from me.

I should have read it much earlier. What power that book has given me - if it's only to make me feel better. Thanks to Rich Dad, Poor Dad by Robert Kiyosaki.

My destiny?

I wonder what my destiny is. Perhaps I shouldn't think too much as it's probably 'maktub' (it's written)

I'm in the middle of reading The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho. And I'm not done yet.

***

I never expected to be living in rental houses, at least not in Singapore, my birth country.

When we were holidaying in Melbourne back in 2005, we bumped into a Malay family who were formerly from Singapore and had made Melbourne home. The husband had become an Australian citizen but the wife was still a PR. The wife told me that prior to the husband becoming a citizen, they had lived in rental homes for about 10 years. Only after the husband had changed his citizenship and withdrew his money from CPF, they bought their very own abode in Melbourne.

10 years living in rental property! That sounds quite right. But for the fact that I'm Singaporean, living in my own birth country - putting up in rental houses don't seem quite fit the profile of the typical Singaporean family. And I don't own any property either. Well, perhaps we are not so typical after all.


***

This has made me think about my destiny. I don't think I am destined to live in a rental home indefinitely. Yes, we have given ourselves deadline. But before we even get to that deadline, the landlord has decided to change our destiny again but increasing the rental ...

This has made me feel very perturbed. The high cost of rental vs the high cost of owning a home in Singapore. Everything is $$$-driven. Even the price of rice has increased 100%, but not our salary.

***

Could I be a businesswoman with a successful business? That's a destiny I'm thinking. But I'm fearful to embark on the unknown.

"...I'm going to hold on to what little I have because I'm too insignificant to conquer the world" p41

I just don't know and not ready to take any risks!

"I'm just a tiny speck of dust in this whole wide world." That's me saying.

***

Ok I'm back to my old real world...let me finish The Alchemist first.

The "how" of things

It is not what we teach, but how we teach that made the greatest difference to our children.

A newfound wisdom came from a mother of two children, who told me the above. I had gone to her house to do a maths intervention programme for my master's research paper, and the methods that I used made her rethink the ways that she had been teaching mathematics to her children. It was an awakening for her. As for me, it was the stamp of approval that what I was doing was perhaps the better way of teaching mathematics to very young children.

It may not be the absolute way or the school-approved way, but the "how" is very important when we teach young children. You can get the child to add 2 + 2 using worksheets, or you can play a game of two dices and get the child to add the two numbers when the two dices are thrown. That made a whole world of difference to the child and to the mom. And it is probably one of the best ways to teach young children to love and appreciate maths, and ultimately score in maths.

The "how" of things crept up again when I was revisiting a research project that I was involved some years earlier. This time, it was a father of three children who was reminiscing about his childhood - a childhood that he would remember albeit with a bit of bitterness and grief. When he did not do well in his exams, his own father would be disappointed and told him to study harder. But he does not know how to study harder. "How" does one study harder to get better grades when one is not being shown, or demonstrated or have a role model to emulate? This made the father more adamant that he will show the "how" to do things to his own kids and not simply just telling them what to do. He said that it is akin to telling your young child to read, and yet you yourself do not read to your own child, or teach him how to read. That will be disastrous in itself.

I've seen the ad many times in the paper, about some accelerated program that promised to make a difference to your child's grades, of course with improved grades and not vice versa. I've spoken to the founder once, and somehow I decided to attend her free seminar and see for myself what exactly is this program all about. Again, what I felt she is telling to her potential clients is - it is not what we teach, but how we teach - that could make or break a child's grades and esteem. We can study so very hard and for very long hours, but if we do not have the right method or technique of learning, it may just go to waste as we will not produce the kind of results that we wanted. According to her, our human brain is only using less than 5% of the potential it can reap. She does make sense especially to parents who do not understand that it is important to show your child the better way to learn. Show, not just say. Saying the wrong words may ultimately do more damage to your child than you think.

I didn't sign up for my child because eventhough she claimed she will impart 8 different ways of learning, at least I think I may have two or three of the "hows" in my pocket for my kid. That will be enough for now. And if my "hows" are not working for my child, I'll find out more "hows" for him in the future.

My embrace with the hejab

When I officially donned the hijab on 10th January 2006, at an over the prime age of 34, it brought queries to some unsuspecting Muslim friends and they had to ask, “What makes you?”

And I usually gave a tongue-in-cheek reply of “I dah bertaubat.” (I’ve repented).

Some would dig further, and my next answer will be, “I guess it’s time.”

What else should I say? By right, all Muslimah should be hijab-ed, isn’t it? It’s just that I am not doing what Muslimah should be doing, and I guess the curiosity from friends is “what is the turning point to this tudung wearing?”

Non-Muslim friends will not ask directly, but they were curious. In fact, one expressed surprise and thought that I would be more westernized since living in the US. However, another friend interjected that it may just be the opposite for some, as they may discover their religion more when they are overseas. She’s partly right, and they have came to the answer themselves without even me saying anything. They had their own discourse about the new hijab-ed me.

As a Muslim lady, I know it is my duty to be modest, and to “veil my bosom and lower my gaze,” as described in the Al-Quran, loosely translated from An-nisa’s verses. But living in cosmopolitan Singapore, I don’t see the need to, since I have such an active and adventurous lifestyle. It’s not controversial for a Muslim lady not to be wearing the tudung in Singapore, and much less so if you are in the US.

I have never asked or discussed with anyone about wearing even though the thought and the niat to wear the tudung has crept into my mind at a few times in my life though I can’t exactly recall when. I have occasionally tried out tudungs in front of the mirrors. And even at very fewer times, wear the tudung in the house. I kept telling myself, if I decide to wear, it will be for good. And it is not something for me to call it off and give it up later. I want to be a tudung-wearer not tudung-weary. But I was fearful of being hejab. One of the major reasons is, I’m ashamed of myself. Though I am not deviant, and I would think that I am morally a good person, I am not a good Muslim. I am a lazy and ignorant one. I neglected my prayers. I didn’t complete my Quran. I’m too lazy and too involved in worldly affairs to further my knowledge in Islam. If I wear the tudung, and I am still lazy and ignorant, what’s the point? I can’t be Muslim on the outside, but be so unknowledgeable and less practicing on the inside. This stopped me from covering up.

It was during one of my online chats with a friend, R that I summoned the courage to ask the same questions that a Muslimah shouldn’t for the answers are just obvious. What makes you? And what is the turning point for you? But isn’t it too sudden? R quoted in her blog, she hejabed a day after her husband’s marriage proposal eventhough the day before she was wearing an ill-fitting jeans and a see-through blouse. Whatever she told me at that time made much sense to me. “I can’t wait to be a better Muslim to be hejab-ed. Perhaps being hejab will make me a better Muslim.” Even then these words of wisdom haven’t moved me.

At that point in time, I was also adamant in teaching my son good Islamic values especially living in a foreign western land, and with little contact of Islam and good Muslims, I felt that it was even more dire on me to teach him Islam. However, I can’t be teaching my son good Islamic values without practicing them properly.

In later chats and emails, R asked, “what if your son goes to madrasah and finds the ustazah covered up, learned from the Quran about Muslim women being hejab, only to return home to find his mummy, not hejab? Wouldn’t he be confused? What do you say to him then?”

That hit me. I want my son to learn good Islamic values but I am not practising it. What do I say if my son really asked me, “Mummy, why aren’t you wearing the hejab like the Quran says?” Being a good role model, is what parenting is all about isn't it?

For the sake of Allah, and for the sake of producing a good Muslim lineage, I have embraced the hejab but my journey is only the beginning. I am still no less lazy and no less ignorant. But I am trying my very best, and I know my very best is still not good enough, to Him and to me. I have no one else to blame except myself.

The life of Uncle

My uncle committed suicide last year. He jumped from a flat.

"He must have been very depressed." Mom said. Her voice was calm over the phone but I could detect her flinching nerves.

I was quiet, unsure of what to say. Then I asked, "How did everyone take it?"

"Your Ah Por was crying. Aunty Nanz also cried..." Mom's voice started to crack.

She told me that her sister will contact her once the body can be brought home. I just told her to keep me in the loop, and if she needed me to send her to any place, just let me know. In the meantime, I told her to take care of herself. I was not sure whether I should ask her to pray for him, but I guess it's ok to wish for something good for someone who had passed on eventhough you are not sure whether your prayers to the deceased will do any good, in this case.

Life really took a turn for uncle, the youngest and only son of four siblings. The son who would have carried his family's surname, and who would be the most important person to attend to his parents' funeral. But this was not to be.

When I was young, I knew him to be a well-established person, at least from my mom's description of him. Groomed and endowed in his pockets and wallets, he was generous with his ang pows whenever we met during that once a year Chinese new year. Eventhough he drove a taxi, he was also helping another of his relative in the money-lending industry. They are legal money lenders, not loan sharks. He was also into doing business, one of which was opening a store selling video games in the heartlands. Thus, driving a cab was just a hobby. He enjoyed the 'high life' too - life in karaoke lounges.

He fell in love with a woman, much to some disapprovement of family members. But it just goes to show he has a big heart. The woman was mute. They were blessed with two daughters.

Fast forward many years later, in which we did not really keep in touch with the going-ons in his lives, we heard news that he had taken a second wife. But the marriage and everything associated with it was hazy.

The woman was Malay. They met at a karaoke lounge where she was working. They married in Thailand (or some other remote places). He had converted to Islam. He was called Atan by his Malay in-laws but it was probably an extension of his Chinese surname - Tan. Again, many disapproved of this marriage believing that the woman was only after his wealth, and nothing else. Her - being Malay was not an issue for the family, perhaps because, their daughter who is my mom was given away by them when she was a baby to be adopted by a Malay/Muslim.

He did not divorce his Chinese wife, but had left her to be with his Malay wife. Again, he was blessed with two daughters with his Malay wife.

Then, things just spiralled down. Mom would get snippets of going-ons in his lives whenever we visited Ah Por for Chinese new year. Every year, something major would happen.

- Second wife wanted a divorce, but then they got back again.
- His elder daughter from his first marriage got pregnant out of wedlock. But it was a non-issue, as she got married to her boyfriend. Uncle never attended his daughter's wedding.
- His younger daughter from his first marriage got caught for drug abuse and was sent for rehab
- His first wife got depressed and stayed with Ah Por for a while. She does not have family members in Singapore. She was from Malaysia.
- He had kidney failure
- He had some bad skin ailments
- His second wife finally wanted a divorce
- He was jobless and penniless and went back to live with Ah Por


We met him during one Chinese new year - maybe last year, maybe the year before last. He was thin and frail, far from the prosperous man that I used to know and see when I was a little girl. He left after some small conversations with my mom, giving the excuse that he had to be at the dialysis centre. Mom gave him money, and I could see the shock on his face but Mom insisted. It was a reversal of role - he used to give my mom and her children money, but now it was the other way round.

That was the last time I saw him - alive.

On the second fateful evening, my husband and I went to the Singapore Casket at Lavender Street. Mom was already there. Ah Por looked devastated. Everyone else looked calm. Aunty Nanz even managed to 'grumble' about him taking his life a day before her birthday, and now she was spending her birthday on his funeral day. In fact, she was supposed to be taking a holiday to Vietnam with Ah Por and had paid for the trip. All that was left were huge regrettable sighs.

At the corner of that small room lies his coffin which we did not immediately go to. Both his wife and ex-wife and their children were there. True to what my mom had thought, he had never quite converted. His Malay ex-wife did not request for a Muslim burial. I don't think she knew what is to be done. I saw her elder daughter whom I had seen when she was a little girl. She was a pretty little girl, very cute and adorable but seeing her now, I'm sorry that we were never close. I may have been judgemental, but from the first look at her again, you would describe her as an 'anak metropolitan' - the fame tv show on Suria Malay channel that had rebellious, angst-ridden teens associated with tattoos and gangsterism. She had an almost bleached hair, nose studs and a small tattoo - the ones visible to my naked eye and she is my niece whom I never quite get to know. But then again, I may be wrong. We didn't talk to each other eventhough her mom made her 'salam' me. It was a lacklustre 'salam' without her holding my hand firmly or properly.

When my husband and I decided to take our leave, we went over to the coffin. Deep inside me, I was a bit fearful. Mom and Aunties told me that I do not have to see him if I do not want to, or am afraid to. But I wanted to, so I did.

The coffin was small, made of wood, but it had a glass top near the face. This was my first time paying my last respects to someone in a coffin. It was a strange feeling. Uncle looked really small and rested. There was a certain sombreness in the look of his face - I was not sure, I do not want to read too much into it.

The funeral was a simple affair, unlike the many Chinese funerals I had seen. Mom attended all the way until the cremation day at Mount Vernon accompanied by my sister. I did not attend the cremation. Aunties did what they needed to do there. Mom was a bundle of steel, believing in her Islamic faith put her in the right frame of mind.

If Uncle did not find the happiness and peace that he wanted when he was alive, I wish for the happiness, peace and guidance of Allah to the family he left behind especially for the niece I never really get to know.

All that I want, is just another...

What shall I blog about? Reflections and resolutions ...nah. It was an uneventful start to the new year. No reflections, no resolutions... just a fancy do. I rebonded my hair for the first time. I would still like a nice crown under my hejab without the unruly kinks, and yes, I'm pretty delighted with the outcome. It wasn't about vanity, it was about not having a bad hair day. Yes, I could have a bad hair day eventhough my hair is covered.

That aside, I didn't ponder about 2007, but I guess now that I am writing this, I am beginning to think about the shape my life has taken this year. I went back to becoming FTWM in March but in an industry totally different from what I used to be in. It was more sane, I guess, clocking in sane number of hours, and leaving on the dot or even lesser than the exact dot. Some people may think that I have caved into the rut of the admin lady - the one who does not care about the grand vision of the company, who just need to do her part and off she goes home to her loving husband and child.

Hey, but I do have a grand vision, a vision of a good life for me - that without a doubt. If you believe in Maslow's Hierarchy of Human Needs, the higher we move up the ladder, the more self-actualization we want. And I believe, I'm selfish enough to make it all about ME now. Yes, ME! Like the song goes, "All that I want, is just another..." (FILL UP YOUR OWN WORD).

I have had some great fulfilments in my career in the last decade, and though there's more higher peaks to scale in that area, I'm happy to leave it for the others. But if I do decide to climb that same peak again, it has to be different. It has to be about a cause, a personal cause. A cause that will lead me to the right path and direction, not necessarily the highest peak.

That's fulfilment.