Bridging the Gap

11 children, 2 adults with $300 aid and some rations?

You wonder what is life like? And with the need to survive, are they able to send their children to preschool? In the first place, do they even bother about preschool education for their children. I doubt it.

I used to wonder, what were their parents thinking? Especially when they knew that with their limited educational level, they have very little income and yet they decide to have many children. How are they going to feed their children well much less educate them. Thus the vicious cycle of being uneducated, being unemployable continues.

More than 13 years ago, I was at an “L” flat – those HDB housing with dark lanes as both sides would be dwellings of bedroom-less space. In one of these, a family of nine children and their parents, all crammed into it. They have been cut of their water and electricity supplies because their father cannot afford to pay. I was there to inform them to come down to the self-help center to receive their voucher aid so that their bills would be settle and they would have water and electricity. Another flat had a simple-minded young girl living with her father and simple-minded mother on cardboards and whatever abandoned and broken furniture they can pick up in their “L” flat. What was more eye opening was the stench of poverty that fills my nostrils from their abode that they call home.

At that time, I was young and naïve, and the things that I see was enough to put me in a daze. How could life be so harsh to this people? What tragedy or circumstances that have befallen them that they were reduced to such a state? Why didn’t the parents study harder during their school days so that they would have better jobs and better income to support their children? Why aren’t some of the so-called breadwinners working? And why are they having so many children, if they can’t give a better life to each and everyone of them?

I was told that the mentality of these parents is that “children are rezeki or gifts from God.” The more children, the more rezeki you will have from Him.

Yes, children are blessings. But these blessings will become a burden if you don’t or can’t work hard and have the means for all of them. Why have nine or eleven, when one or four are still blessings to be grateful with?

13 years on, some of these low social-economic-strata families are still having large families, and at times, the breadwinner ridden with sickness. Thus, they are still not able to cope with the demands of life itself.

According to the Straits Times January 27th report, at least 5% of children annually do not enter preschool at all. And I do believe that somehow or rather, the Malays form a higher proportion of these children. In 1997, a report by the then Minister for Education, Rear Admiral Teo Chee Hean, cited that about 5%-6% of Malay children do not register for primary one, while the Indians is at 4.5% and the Chinese, 1.5%.

At that time, part of the reason, besides dropping out of school, some of these Malay families send their children for a madrasah route. That aside, even the madrasah education, was without its criticism. And as such, by next year, it will be compulsory for all primary six madrasah students in all the six madrasahs in Singapore to sit for their Primary School Leaving Examination. Those madrasah that produces results below the national level for a number of years, will be asked to close.

Though many have felt marginalized by this rule, I see many good in this. Madrasah Al-Maarif, for instance, have move on to a bigger and better building, with more facilities. Al-Irsyad will also soon have their new building that will synergise with the needs of education in this era. That’s only the façade, and of course, many things are yet to be seen especially in terms of state-of-the-art facilities, curriculum, materials, and quality of teachers etc.

All the changes and help in the community are in the hope of bridging the gap. But more than 30 years of independence, the Malays are still left behind. We definitely have seen some good, however, the gap will continue to be there if there are no in-depth programmes to tackle every facet of underachievement in the Malays. By the time we close the preschool, primary and secondary gaps, the gap is even wider in the higher level. When we beam and shout with pride that are our kids have gotten a degree, the other races have raced to attain double degrees, masters and phDs.

So where are we at again?

Another mundane marketing musings

And so I was at the chicken stall this morning, when the abang cajoled me into buying fresh chicken. Doesn't matter if it's fresh because I will still put it in the freezer as I will not be cooking chicken today. So I asked for two - one to be cut into four pieces, the other twelve. Then as I looked on, the chickens were already without their head and legs. Not that it ever bothered me because usually I would just ask the what-do-you-call-a-chicken-seller to just throw it away. But my domestic helper is fond of chicken legs. So I asked for it. And then we got into a little banter about chicken legs ... the one I've heard before was "whoever eats chicken legs, can run very fast" but this abang was teasing my young Indon maid by saying that since she likes to eat chicken legs, it means she "kuat merayap" (like to go out). Indon maid gushed with "Ya Allah, Ya ampun" and looking at me fearfully. I played along, and outrightly mentioned that if she were ever caught "merayap", she will get it from me. Then the abang chicken said that I was unkind to let her eat chicken feet only. Of course, I let her eat chicken meat but she loves chicken feet and in fact, I was kind enough to ask for the chicken feet for her, in which my hubby would definitely be so geli with. So I told chicken seller, she loves the chicken feet "sampai gigit-gigit tulang". My Indon maid would actually chew chicken bones. Ok enough of this chicken feet ramblings, when the abang chicken said, you are so "mesra" (amicable) with your maid.

Oh, am I? Suddenly that put a perspective on things.

Frankly speaking, I do not know what kind of employer I would be. In fact, I was a very hesitant person ever to employ a maid. For the many many fears that I have not just about having a domestic helper but a stranger living with me, with my family in my house. A stranger who would be close to my son, who would manage my husband's and my dirty laundry, and a female stranger, that might be able to seduce, nauzubillah. You see, my thoughts would actually go this far, and these thoughts were communicated to hubby before we finally decided to get a helper.

Well, I don't know. In fact, I was frank to tell her that I do not know what kind of employer I will be. But for as long as she is living in my house, she has to follow my rules. She has worked here in Singapore for four years, thus that would say volumes about her experience. But I had to point out to her, that whatever way her previous employer decide to do things, it's their way, and I have my way, and she has to follow my way.

It's still too early to say anything. But I do know that I would not want to be the type of employer like my in-law side. Like I said, they have their own way of doing things, and I have my way. And if my way is not as meticulous and proper as theirs, it is still my way and within my comfort zone, it's fine with me.

In the first few days of her working in my household, I had sleepless nights. She was sleeping in the same room as Afzal, and somehow, I would wake up two to three times in the middle of the night just to check on them in their room. Though that feeling of wanting to check on her has subsided, the feelings of wondering what could be happening in that room besides sleeping do seem to play in my subconscious.

Also, in the first few days, every night before she sleeps, it seemed like a debriefing time for me to let her know what she has done right and what else can be improved. The debriefing has not taken place any more, but of course, there were still occasions that I had to remind her to improve or do it better. Other than that, I don't see the need for me to be breathing down her neck for as long as she does her work properly and diligently. In fact, I think she does not have much to do at my house, as she had to ask me for more work. Sometimes, she would ask if she could prepare snacks for tea time. And usually, I will just let her do it if it's not too frivolous. She has even requested if I could purchase ingredients for rempeyek because she wanted to make some. By all means, I thought since I like rempeyek, and if it's good, she can make rempeyeks for our next raya. Well, but I'm still cautious and not about to let my guard down.

My mundane marketing musings

When I was a bit younger, maybe during my singlehood days, I was arrogant to think that the wet market is not for me. I would be the one doing marketing at the airconditioned, non-smelly, well-categorised supermarket just like the Hollywood movies, lugging groceries in brown bags.

Or so I think.

But this morning, I was at the new Geylang Serai market for one of my routine marketing trips of late with my domestic helper lugging the metal grocery bag on rollers. Of now, I will not be caught dead lugging that metal grocery bag. Eversince Afzal was in daily school, and having a domestic helper since 27 days ago, we've been having home-cooked meals more so than ever.

I'm pampered in Singapore. As food is so easily accessible. Every corner I turned, there is always stalls, shops, eateries, restaurants. There is always food and more food, not to mention the halal international kind.

When I work, I don't cook. When I'm lazy, I don't cook. And if I just don't feel like cooking, I don't cook. My kitchen(s) are out there, from local to international cuisines, from fast food to gourmet restaurants, from kampong to western delights, and not forgetting the ever delicious mum's and mil's meals.

But eversince Afzal is in daily school and the availability of the domestic helper to do all the hard work for me like cutting, peeling, chopping, blending and washing and scrubbing the pots after that, cooking has been almost a daily affair. So my dear Afzal will get Mum's warm home-cooked meals after school and Hubby will sometimes tapao for work as well.

Back in Alabama, I would cry my eyes out and I still had to cook. Of course, at times, when hubby was kind enough to grant me an off day, we would eat maggie mee. Occasionally we may hit a restaurant for their expensive seafood dishes. I turned every corner, and there is no halal food. Life was "hard" as I had to cook everyday, having to do all the cutting, peeling, chopping, blending, washing, scrubbing by myself. But where are the brown grocery bags? It remains in Hollywood movies, it seemed, because in Alabama, we still used plastic bags and in Melbourne, they encourage you to bring your own recycle bags.

With the frailties of human beings and our insatiable desires, we tend to think that the grass is always greener on the other side. We just don't know when we've got something good going until we do not have access to it. Mundane it might seem, but it has become an issue of survival. And surviving is one trait that cannot be learned, but only experience. For something that we desire, something else have to be given up. Unless that's ok with you, then it's a viable option. Otherwise, it will become a burden and you will think why you ever do it in the first place. Hmmm, what have these ramblings got to do with my going to the market?

Excuse me Mr or Ms Architect, are you a driver too?

If you have been to the new Geylang Serai Market, and decided to park your car at the market itself, you would definitely enter through the "wrong" lane and then reversed to go to the right lane. I wonder who design the entry and exit of that carpark, as the person who does that definitely has no sense of direction of the Singapore road system, and the supervisor who approved the plan is no less goondu. Unless you are in America, then it's ok to enter from the right lane. But here, we usually turn left into the left lane not right but this is not the case for the new Geylang Serai Market. When we turn left, we had to enter via the right lane instead to enter the carpark and if you did not know or not careful, you will move head on with the cars coming out of the carpark because the vehicles would be crisscrossing lanes. The cars exiting the car park should exit on their left but no, they exit on the right.

This reminds me of a story that an ex-colleague cum old friend told me about. At that time, her younger sister was studying to be an architect, and though their mum insisted that she should learn how to drive, younger sister was resistant. So mum said that, "if you don't drive, you will not know how to design car parks." And their mom words continue to echo in my ear whenever I enter a shopping mall with badly designed carparks. Whenever that happens, I will tell hubby that the architect is not a driver, and the supervisor sleeps on his job.

What's in a name?

It’s heartening to know that Taufik Batisah and Hady Mirza stay true to their real names despite being in the glamour world of showbiz. But surprisingly some artistes that are managed by a Malay tv station has names changed from Khairul to Hyrul, and others from Iskandar to Eiss and Taufik to Taufique. Phonetically, the sounds are still the same but the alphabets depicted are more glamourous, no?

There goes again perhaps a case of identity crisis of the Malays, wanting to sound more westernized and glamourised than they should be. Even my own name, Maria, do not sound Malay but it has its roots in Islamic and Catholic origins. When I was in Europe, my name was so common that it became boring. Because every other European women you met, would have a name starting with Maria or know many more women with that name. However, on the positive side, they do not have problems pronouncing my name.

Some names are chosen, while others are created. Well, at least my son's name was chosen from ...not from some Islamic Baby Names Books, but the internet. There's just so much more choices from the internet than from the books. His chosen name is Muhammad Afzal simply because it has an excellent meaning, with its roots in Islam. It means the “most excellent”, and together with Muhammad, it means “the most honourable, most excellent”. And I hope he will grow up to be a fine young man. But it came to a point when grandparents think the name is too “heavy” for the child to carry. Especially when kids are prone to heavy crying and often falls sick, that’s when Malays feel that the names given to the child are not appropriate. It so happened that my husband is known by another name by his family members and relatives, which sounded a bit feminine. And if his actual name is mentioned, the relatives would be wondering whom we are talking about as they do not remember his real name. From what I heard, my husband’s maternal grandfather, in remembrance of a lost son, gave his real name to him. But his own father wanted a different name. So in respect, his official name was given by his maternal grandfather but his known to many by his other name given by his own father. Is that confusing? And to make matters more confusing, his three other adiks all have other names, and mind you, these are not nicknames.

In the old days, children are given names that may be detrimental to their own self-worth. For example, names like Buang, which literally means “throw” because so and so was abandoned by so and so parents and were picked up by another family. When the kids were picked up, they were called Pungot. Then there were others like Jantan, Comel, Comot, Kecil (but in terms of size, the person is far from kecil), Pendek, Panjang. And sometimes, they were given names of the week because they were born on Isnin or Senin, Khamis, Jumaat or Jumat, Sabtu, Ahad or Ahat. Names of months are not so popular except for the abbreviated June or Jun, and perhaps Syawal.

Created names may sound nice but sometimes do not hold any meaning. Others create their children's names by combining parts of the parents' names. Shahirina was born because of mom Shaemah, and dad Tahir. Then there are long names like Nurul Sajaa Rosshida Bte Mohd Rosli. This is still not long enough, and there are others much longer. Husband and I have decided that our kids’ names should not take too much time to write especially when it comes to exam papers. We also have western sounding names but with Islamic roots like Danial, Dayan and Matin, among others.

Hollywood celebrities can get away with wacky and weird names for their kids even calling them His Majesty or Police Inspektor. Sounds cheesey isn't it?

I wonder why a name was chosen and not others. So what’s in a name? Nice sounding and beautiful meaning? Glamourous or quirky? Or simply easy to remember.

What's the dilemma?

After watching Gol and Gincu, the Malaysian tv series about modern Malaysian teens grappling with issues of friendships, BGRs, futsal etc in a private college, my husband commented, "It's too modern."

Last night, the show's theme came across vividly what the show is actually about, The Malay Dilemma. A book written by the former Malaysian Primer Minister, Mahathir Mohamad was given airtime when the heroine, played by MTV VJ Fazura, opened the book in her hands. She was grappling with her modern identity vs her love for her more "cultured" boyfriend who is into Malay theatre and poetry. Aside what's reel, the reality is her reel boyfriend's real name is Mohd Pierre Andre. There were also other casts with similarly westernised names like Ashraf Sinclair. Maybe they were of mixed parentage. Or perhaps the Executive Producer of the show is the ex-PM own's daughter.

What Gol and Gincu potrayed may not truely reflect the whole of Malaysia, but at the same time, it is not uncommon in the Malaysian city landscape. Go down to places like Bukit Bintang and Bangsar, and you'll know what I mean. Perhaps I may be outdated, and there are more "happenings" than one could really imagine in a country known to be Islamic. I know, because I have lived there for 5 months and it was enough to give me a culture shock despite being of the same ethnic group.

When I was in university, I had a visiting Malaysian professor in my political science tutorial class. Being the only Malay in that class, he would often shoot questions at me, for the purpose of garnering my interest or just plain sadistic, I don't quite get him. And me, being politically apathetic, would just go into nonsensical babbling mode as long as I provide him some kind of responses. Funny, his own article would on occasions mildly criticise his country's political landscape but he also suggested to me that if I see a gathering of big names and they are sipping tea with a teacup in their hands, it means they are drinking wine. Should I believe this man? I didn't until of course I lived there.

Drinking liquor, though haram, is still practised by some Muslims. Even when I was visiting China, and visited many Muslim Chinese homes, some have bottles of liquor in their houses. This is also true in some Malaysian homes, and some of whom are people of high profiles. I'm sure it happens in Singapore too, but I have not seen a home with liquor yet but when it comes to drinking, heard and seen them many times. While doing research for a tv programme, the only contact I had in Singapore was with a Malay/ Muslim couple who owns a bar - tiny, dark, murky and patronised by Malays. I also went into a lounge own by a Chinese man but operated and runned by his Malay "mummy" and other Malay hostesses.

Sometimes we tend to sweep things under the carpet when the reality of our society is just such. If someone says that it's hard being Malay or Muslim and yet modern, then what about those Muslims living in non-Islamic countries, and yet able to keep their faith truthfully as they could.

It's strange that in societies or countries known to be Islamic or have better Islamic infrastructure, we, Muslims and/ or Malays tend to be lost. And by some kind of Divine intervention, we managed to find our truthful path when we are in a non-Islamic surrounding. Subhanallah, may Allah continue to guide us.

Best chances of a second one...?

I was reading with much amusement an article written by a gynaecologist a few days ago in the local Malay papers. He is a Muslim male. His article was about couples having trouble conceiving the second child or having trouble conceiving at all. And these couples have seek his advice on what should be done. Unless it was just pure fatigue, he felt that there is no need to see him. What needs to be done is to just do it. One wife actually told the husband that he (the gynae) had adviced doing it everyday until the husband felt extremely stressed and exhausted. The gynae was shocked to hear that he had dispense such an advice, only to realise that the wife had been smiling gleefully in the corner. This gynae's formula instead is to have the sex-relax-sex-relax method, which means doing it every alternate days for best chances of conceiving. But of course, he added, no one will stop you if you wishes to do it everyday. He ends off with this phrase Biar penat asalkan jangan tenat! Not so literal translation :- Never mind tired, as long as not punctured!

Oh hubby....

It's my wedding anniversary...(and I haven't learned)

Today (7 Nov 2006)marks my seventh year wedding anniversary, but it was a working day for hubby. And a regular day of me being a seri rumahtangga. Yes, a seri rumahtangga not suri rumahtangga and I doubt that you could find the word in the dictionary because it was coined by moi.

Back to the anniversary, eventhough hubby suggested we go out for dinner, I was not too keen as it would feel like any other dinners that we had to have. Unless of course, he had planned a romantic dinner for two with candlelights and scented aromas, with beautiful live music of violins, perhaps at the rooftop...hmmm, only in my dreams of now. I got him a card, a romantic card that pledges my vow to him, ehem, and of course a present - a pair of black pants that he needed badly because he does not have one. But I was illusioned to think that he was still a size 34. He had grown to 36. Therefore I have to get it changed. I prepared dinner of sirloin steak and fresh salad at home with leftovers of mashed potato and mushroom sauce. Of course hubby apologised that he hadn't had the time to get me something, anything. Not that I want to, but only if he could have thought about it and got something much earlier. You know, men, or rather this hubby of mine, is someone you need to tell upfront, straight into his face, that you want flowers, roses or diamonds, then he will get it for you (well maybe not that last item starting with the letter d). Otherwise, if you said, it's ok, nevermind dear, it's really ok, it's not that important, no, I don't want anything - then he will NOT get anything. Period. I wished men, or rather, this hubby of mine would not take me too literally here. Serve me right for not learning my lesson all these years.

Salam Aidilfitri

by afzalmom
Afzal donning the latest invention for this festive season, the "songkok lap-lip" (glitterati headgear).

Here's wishing family, friends and online buddies a Selamat Hari Raya Aidilfitri and Maaf Zahir dan Batin. May you have a blessed year ahead.

Recollections from the past

The same time last year, we spent Ramadan in Alabama. The difference were many. As perhaps usual for Muslims fasting in a non-Muslim country, we did not hear any form of Azan to signify the breaking of fast unlike here in Singapore where everyone would tune in to Radio Warna for that significant moment. What we had was a printout of the solat times that includes imsak from the local mosque, and we rely on that religiously.

We did not break fast with family members. It was a rather quiet Ramadan, breaking fast with hubby alone. And when hubby is on night shift, it would just be me. We hadn't train Afzal then to fast, and usually he would have had his dinner by then. This was something I missed most.

One major difference would be the fact that during buka, it was my home-cooked meals daily. Unlike here, there were no visits to any bazaars for any Ramadan specialty. Though we did not really crave for anything special, I remembered the nasi ambeng at the Jurong West bazaar and the bubur masjid plus air kathira. And hubby remembered this one food that he would usually have once during Ramadan which he did not get a taste of it at all last year - bubur sum sum. Up till today which is already 23 days of fasting, hubby already had his bubur sum sum, and I still hadn't got my nasi ambeng from that Jurong West bazaar.

This year, our break fast were mostly outside or at our parent's home with the exception for a few days that I cook that I could count with one hand alone.

There are other things that I knew I wanted to do during Ramadan, but somehow, never get around to doing it. And these are important things I feel for my own personal and spiritual development. But what I fear is I may get lost again in this world-chasing thing or in this hurried lifestyle that I'm having which I know is not an excuse for my own inadequacy and lack of effort on my part.

Oh Allah swt, give me strength, give me your mercy and give me your compassion for I'm such an inadequate being of yours.

I write but that does not make me a writer

For the first time, I was officially known as a writer. That was about two months back when I decided to decline the offer to produce and direct a tv programme but instead, to write.

Rather than sounding a tad arrogant when some may consider my decision to write instead of produce/ direct a sheer waste of talent, I believe this decision has a lot to do with my phase in life. And writing, is a talent to be nurtured as well. Just because I write, that does not make me a writer. My hats off to tv writers and other writers alike especially these two I know, Hamed Ismail and Amanah Mustafi for having the tenacity and brain power to churn scripts on a daily basis.

My decision to even get one foot back into the broadcasting world is one of mixed feelings. It's something that I have done for over a decade and therefore I can be considered almost a veteran in this area but never an expert. I learnt from phD holders, that no one is an expert in something. There is always something new to learn in a profession that you are so used and accustomed to. And though I feel I could start to pursue a new career path like early childhood, I do feel lacking in expertise in this new area as well.

So I hang on, waiting, or rather just passing by, till I feel my son is going to primary school before I embark on a new path, but then again, only time will tell. At least an incident in the broadcasting world recently had revived in me one of the many reasons why I left the industry in the first place.

It's an interesting and dynamic place to be with a lot of avenues for creative juices to flow but sometimes it's the people that really suck the blood out of you. People who shamelessly think that they are mightier than thou just because they are in a so-called 'higher' or 'clientele' position, working with people who are "anal" in many ways and yet doesn't know it, working with people with mindsets, a mindset that they think others have not change and evolve with the times and yet their own mindset has not change and evolve as well. People who are just plain pure rude, wicked, who thinks they are glamorous, "serpent beneath the rose types" blah, blah, blah and ...all sorts. Astaghfirullahallazim, pardon me Allah, for I am fasting. And please protect me from these people, because sometimes I feel they make me a bad person, but I know I have the choice not to be one. So help me. Amin

I write, for the sake of writing.

Driving me crazy

It's been a week of lots of driving. Yes, I have the car all to myself because hubby is not around. And there I go, zipping from east to west to central to west and back to east and further east etc. Unlike when I take a taxi, driving requires some kind of mental checklist, especially if I'm going to an untrodden route. However, with a kid in tow, and having to go to "work", it seems that the night before I will go through my mental checklist of what I should do first, and where to go.

So it could be
1) drive to a breakfast stop (must decide where or within the route I'm going)
2) eat or buy breakfast so that the lil' one is full and will not be cranky
3) send to mother-in-law's place (which will be PIE from east all the way to Pioneer Rd)
4) Or send to mum's place (which will be PIE exit from Eunos all the way to Tampines)
5) Take the PIE route to "work"
6) Go back take PIE to either Pioneer Rd or Tampines depending where the lil' one is. Sometimes another pitstop to get dinner, a bit of groceries/emergencies or fill up the tank.
7) On selected days, take the lil one to his enrichment classes.
8) Drive back PIE to home.

On certain days, I may have to go to some untrodden route or my not-so-usual path like Syed Alwi Road or Pandan Road, that's when I had to get the directory to decide whether to hit the PIE or ECP or otherwise. If I'm not stuck in a traffic jam for some reason, I will get lost.

But this particular experience differs from the usual and I hope it is not an experience to be repeated again. *Pray*

I remembered the first time when hubby left for Alabama and I had the car all to myself. I was driving along PIE from Tampines to Jalan Bahar in the morning rush hour. Afzal was with me because I had to send him to the work childcare and then head off for work. And my car just went dead on the PIE somewhere before Adam Road exit, in the morning rush hour. Yes, with loads of cars behind, in front and around me rushing for work and my car went dead in the middle of the PIE. I could not start the car, and nervous beads of perspiration were raining on my forehead. It did not help that Afzal was wailing in fear of the situation. The car behind honked but he stopped, and he was kind enough to go out of his car to see what happened to mine. He could not start my car either. I wanted to go out of the car, but my son was wailing again. I was embarrassed, shocked and nervous all rolled into one. Frankly speaking, I did not know what to do and wished hubby had been around, not only in my car but in Singapore, that is at that time.

The guy whose car was behind me suggested I called my tow-truck company but before I knew it another tow-truck came. There's so many cctv cameras on PIE, so the LTA will send one tow-truck out should they see a car in distress. We were towed all the way to Adam Road food centre. A distressed mum will be further distressed with a distressed son. So the pakcik tow-truck actually help to carry Afzal to his truck and comfort him until we land safely on Adam Road food centre car park.

That was a nightmare!

The nature of things

My little boy turned six yesterday. It was a quiet celebration at Swensen, with lunch and ice-cream. Well, at least the staff there sang him a birthday song and his two uncles joined us as well. Nenek and datuk were holidaying in Melbourne, but they called in the morning to wish him together with his Aunty Yan and Uncle Nazif. Afzal received a Black Widow water gun from his youngest uncle Suffian.

Since we received two complimentary tickets from his uncle Ayom to the Kids Central Live Show on 31 Aug,we went - only Afzal and mummy, sharing a special time together.

Today, we were at the airport bidding his daddy farewell. Daddy left for US again but this time to Illinois for the next three weeks. After that, mummy brought Afzal to the Kids Central Carnival because the tickets were still valid since it rained heavily the last time. On the way home, we stopped at the coffeeshop beside Kassim Mosque and bought packed dinner. Afzal wanted briyani.

Mummy and Afzal shared a packet of chicken briyani and mummy felt like drinking soda. So mummy relented and shared soda together with the big little boy.

Now, While Afzal is occupying himself with his new remote control car from his Aunt Midah, mummy is feeling blue. Oh well, I will keep myself busy with work for next week while putting Afzal at mum-in-law's place. In this moment in time, that's the nature of things, I guess.

So how, brown cow? Don't shoot me if I'm wrong...

With the so many changes in the education system in Singapore, it makes me think that perhaps it's about time that the government acknowledges the diversity and the different gifts in each child. With all the talk about more concrete and experiential learning experience, smaller classroom size and niche programs in schools, many children will have their different potential(s) and diverse talent(s) realised. But shoot me if I'm wrong, things are not really changing.

An early childhood colleague once mentioned to me that it's not the fault of the schools, but it's parents who are pushing their children to the edge, and in return pushed the teachers and principals. And therefore, it has become imperative for schools to upkeep their standards, thus stressing the principals and the teachers.

Let's say she is right but for a start why aren't the principals and teachers embracing the changes first and then changing the mindset of parents? Otherwise, the old and unwanted effects will just continue.

Here's a little snippet of something of this thing called the primary school registration in this little island of Singapore.

When I say I wanted to send my child to school A, a parent told me that it is not a good school, and suggested that I should send my child to school B instead. According to her, the academic standard in school B is better and even if your child is not doing so well, this school B is affiliated to a secondary school and your child will still stand a chance of a secondary school. (Affiliations or not, I just hope that my son is capable to get into a secondary school with his own abilities.) She, however, sent her child to school C because it is a SAP primary school, so-called the best in that area. (I will never have a chance to send my child to school C, for obvious reasons that my child will not take Mandarin as a second language in school.)

On my part, I have checked out the nearest available schools via their internet, and I was more impressed with school A's website rather than school B. And of course, I have my own reasons why I think school A will be better for my son. But with some non-highly recommended comments about school A, I decided to check out school A myself and met with the school principal. How I wished he would dispel some myths about his school and welcome me and my child to his school with opens arms. He did dispel some myths but the meeting that followed was definitely not what I was expecting.

According to principal of school A, not verbatim, "Our school is doing very well, in fact, our academic is very rigorous, and if your child is not able to read and write by the time he is in primary one, he will struggle and it will be stressful for him."

According to principal of school A, "our school is better that school B, because the aggregate of our top PSLE student's last year was higher than school B and many other schools around the district. In fact, we are better than school B in all subjects except Mandarin."

He also reiterated the fact that students who enter his school are mostly readers and they fall in the 3-5 categories. He does not have students in the 0 and 1 categories, meaning non-readers. He mentioned again that "if parents are not involved in their children's education, it will be difficult for the child to progress in his school." (Get the hint).

Two things here.

1) The principal's facts and figures actually show you that you should not just listen to any parents without checking it out yourself. The truth is better than hearsay. Also, don't let other parents change what you have in mind because only you know your child better. Firstly ask yourself, what is a good school to you and to your child? For me, I will not put my child in schools where there are major disciplinary and attitudinal issues with the children. Other than that, I have some faith in MOE and NIE for having one of the best curriculums in the world and some of the finest teachers.

2) I am definitely an advocate for parent involvement, but to keep reiterating the fact that if my son is not able to read and write in primary one, I repeat again, read and write in primary one, he will definitely struggle. Isn't he, the school principal, pushing the parents' to the edge and in return the kids will be pushed by the parents and the cycle continues? So who is stressing who now?

And I thought the schools are changing to accomodate the different abilities in students.

So how, brown cow?

It is not related to history

I'm having this perpetual cough that never seems to subside after the flu bug hits me. I don't know what is it about me or the weather here in Singapore that this sinus-cough ailment is stuck to me like a bad sore. Taking over-the-counter cough syrup does not do me any good. I need stronger dosage so in other words again, maybe another visit to the doc. Somehow, for the one year we were in Alabama, my health was good. Afzal had fever twice, but he never had a bad cough attack that we needed to scramble for his puffs. Here, when his cough sounded really bad, it looks like he was about to 'choke.'

Some four plus years ago, at least once a month, Afzal would always need to see a doctor. At that time, we went to a GP. But after no improvement, I decided that we should see a paeditrician. At the PD, we were told then that Afzal had mild asthma, something which the GP had not mention. We were surprised and rather doubtful about the PD's diagnosis. "It can't be!" we thought, because both me and my husband's side of the families have no history of asthma. That first time, however, Afzal was given those masked oxygen to breathe in that PD's clinic. He had a different cough, cold and fever medication than the usual ones that we had from the GP, and the PD prescribed us his inhalers as well as the "rocket."

Back in our car, I hugged him and cried, and once again the many times that I had felt so helpless and like a failure for not being able to help him welled up inside me. It did not help when we told our parents who refused to believe that Afzal had mild asthma because "there is no history in both our families." It made me feel even worst, as I felt like I was being accused whether intentional or not that I did not know how and did not take good care of my own son.

Just to be sure, we went to another doctor and was told the same thing. In fact, he assured us it may not necessarily be 'history' related but if any of the parents have sinus or eczema problems, that could potentially be a cause for asthma. I know I have this sinus problem and hubby too. So we both accept the fact that both of us could cause Afzal's asthma so as to shoulder the guilt together. Again, to be sure, we visited another paeditrician for a third opinion, and the results have not changed since.

But Afzal has been better, and has never ever needed to rely on his inhalers 24/7. And we are so grateful for that.

Trying to get back the momentum

It's not easy to get back to the momentum of writing in blogs, and I have saved a postings as draft. I'll come back to that later, I thought, well maybe yes, maybe not.

Being in home ground perhaps, I feel rather mundane to talk about things that I do unlike being in a different country where you get to experience new things thus you talk and blog about it. For one, changes in my life are not interesting materials to report about. And how I wish I have the gift of the pen like some other bloggers who write poignant stories and personal political statements.

Firstly, where do I start?

I'll be back, soon, I hope.

Has anyone notice that...

...I have not updated this blog for the longest time ever? Or the subtle changes that I have made in "About Afzalmom" and the addition of the "new Singapore time clock". Still sentimental about deleting "Mobile, Al's clock". Anyway, I'll try my best to update and to friends that have kept me company during my 'very on' blogging days, please pardon me for this cessation in transmission but you are still being remembered always.

It bugs me

Barely three months we are back in Singapore, I have made the local doctors even richer by having three visits already...i'm so bugged with the flu bug. As a Taurean, it has been said that my sensitivities are around the ears, nose and throat regions. Oh well, how true, and it is so often that my throat is affected that everyone would say I have an ultra sexy voice (aka the frog's croak).

Last Saturday, I guessed my body went into shock and my system crashed. I think I have been out of the adrenaline-pumping-super-long-hours-live-tv-show for so long (2 years to be exact) that I suddenly went on overdrive...

The World Cup ...

... and the neglected wife.

It comes every four years, where the lure of men kicking one ball is better than s**, or so it seems. So for every significant other who is not interested in the game, this is the time where you will have the whole bed to yourself, while hearing occasional oohs and ahhs and indiscernable shouts and grunts from your spouse (and maybe others) from the living room.

Have I turned my back at the blogging world?

I really don't know and I don't have the answers right now.

Blogging came to me when I was 'alone', when hubby left for the States back in April 2005. Now I'm back in Singapore and I'm not 'alone' anymore eventhough hubby is back in Alabama again since May 15th. But at least now I have my family, friends, familiarity and things to keep me busy.

Until then. I don't know when. Maybe tomorrow...?