Yesterday I went all the way to Klang to pick up my new maid, a young Cambodian girl. This is the first time ever that I'm having a non-Indonesian maid.
If truth be told, I'm quite sick of having Indonesian maids as they've proven to be unreliable and caused me unnecessary duress and stress as proven the last 2 years. I hope I've said my last goodbye to these nightmare.
I fervently prayed to Allah that this Cambodian maid would be a good one and would not display the same traits as my previous Indonesian maid, a maid I nicknamed Lipstick Jungle Maid.
After the first day ordeal of talking like a chicken and a buffalo, she knows hardly any Malay nor English, and I DO NOT KNOW Cambodian at all, I began to realise something. Despite the ordeal of communicating with her and the hardship of trying to be understood by each other, I think we are both better off not knowing each other's language.
What is beautiful is the fact that she doesn't answer me back, nor said much. And I only issue minimal instructions with the aid of sign language. I think this will work well as I believe, less said, better outcome. And most importantly, due to the language impediment, I'm rest assured that she would find it very difficult and an uphill battle to chat with my super-friendly neighbours.
So far, on day 2, the chicken and rabbit had both survived!!!
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Dad's Mixed Emotions....hmmm... and Mum's too...
My husband was kind of agitated and restless last night. He was perturbed that he was not able to contact the love of his life (me....unfortunately no!)....
He is so used to talking and chatting with the apple of his eyes, his only princess that he finds it hard to believe that she is non-contactable for the next 6 days. By any kind of standard in my household that is a long period of non-communication.
Our little princess (hmmmm. if truth be told she's no longer little as she turned 21 last week, but in our eyes, she'd remain little) is attending a programme organised by her university for Muslim students.
She's currently marooned in Malacca. My last communication with her was on Monday, 27 Dec when she sent an sms to me to tell me that she had arrived safely in Malacca, followed by another sms to say that all the participants' phones would be confiscated and would only be returned after the programme. Nonetheless, she did leave a message saying that if there's any urgent matters, we should convey the message to one of the committee members.
Last night was only the second night that my husband was not able to talk to his little girl and he was already feeling miserable, depressed and wretched. With wry amusement, I'm trying to imagine his state of mind over the next couple of days, and I hope I'd be spared the brunt of his misery!!!
Last night, he was complaining incessantly and actually muttering the absurdity of the organisers confiscating their handphones!!! And I did remind him that he could still call the committee member if he really wanted to talk to his daughter. I was amused when he exclaimed, "I will even bash the committee member!" I had a good laugh.
As for me, of course I miss my little princess, but then again, I know someday, she'd leave her little nest and fly away to a strange place. She'd have her own life. Hence, this poem dedicated to our little princess:
How do Babah and Mama let go
Of the girl that mama has borne
How do we let her know
That our hearts can be so torn.
To keep her by our side
Would not be just or fair
And let her have a free ride
Would mean we don't care.
We know we taught her well
And that she knows right from wrong
Now...only time will tell
If she can be as strong.
But watching her go through the door
Make our feelings sway
We must cover our tears...and more
And pray for her each day
Of the girl that mama has borne
How do we let her know
That our hearts can be so torn.
To keep her by our side
Would not be just or fair
And let her have a free ride
Would mean we don't care.
We know we taught her well
And that she knows right from wrong
Now...only time will tell
If she can be as strong.
But watching her go through the door
Make our feelings sway
We must cover our tears...and more
And pray for her each day
That she'd be happy with with what lay for her in the horizon...
And deep in our hearts...
She'd always remain our little princess!!!!
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Nightmare before Christmas
The teh tarik in the tall mug which I made for myself that morning had turned cold. The multi-grain bread that I toasted had gone limp. The plates, cups and saucers (remnants of the breakfast which my husband and boys had for breakfast) remained unwashed in my kitchen sink.
My brain was in over-drive. The phrase "Nightmare before Christmas" kept playing and swarming my mind that morning. The day before I had had a heart-to-heart talk and discussion with one of my foreign students. We were talking about her impending marriage.
This student had been one of my favourite students when I was teaching English at one of the local colleges in town. She was very hardworking and was like a sponge. Whatever was imparted to her, she would absorb them fervently and enthusiastically. She was a fast and an eager learner. It was a joy teaching her. She has an exquisite face and much loved by her friends and lecturers alike.
As she is an orphan, she looks up to me like her own mum. She lost both her parents when she was four years old. Her parents had both been killed during the civil war in her country. They had been brutally murdered. She lived with foster parents during her growing-up years.
After completing her high school, she decided to leave her country and came to Malaysia to study English. That was when our paths crossed. As she is such a lovable and a likeable person, I've learnt to love her like my own. Two years ago, she met an awesome Malaysian who asked for her hands in marriage. Needless to say, she accepted. I could see how much she loves her beau.
I had offered to sponsor her wedding and hold the reception in my house. After all, none of my kids are anywhere near marriagedom... Naturally she was excited and was so very much looking forward to her wedding.
But when told that I was going to give up my room to enable her and her husband-to-be to use it as their wedding room (I was prepared to give it up for a couple of days, of course with the consent of my husband) she looked at me in disbelief and to my consternation and heartache had exclaimed "Mum, I can't use your room. It's just not right."
Tried as I might to cajole her to change her mind, she was adamant and insistent that she only used my daughter's much-smaller room as her wedding room. I was heart-broken, as I had wanted so much for her to use my room as it is more spacious and more comfortable.
I was puzzled and kept wracking my brain to find out her reasons for not wanting to use my room. After all, it's not everyday that you become a bride or Queen of the day. And I had wanted so much for her to feel special and be swathed in a little luxury.
As curiosity might kill a cat, and it might just kill me, I had called her up to find out the actual reasons why she was resolute and steadfast in her decision not to use my room. After a little bickering and nerve-wrecking moments (as it had turned into an almost heated discussion), she breathed into the phone and spoke in a whisper-like tone and told me "Mum, if I were to use your room, it'll be just like a Nightmare Before Christmas!"
I was flabbergasted and was rendered speechless!!! Nightmare before Christmas!!! Now I wonder what she meant. Alas, and sad to say, I never did find out as she went on to use my daughter's room for her wedding night, and since then, had left to visit her foster parents in her birth-country bringing along the love of her life plus her bundles of joy. God had blessed her with twins, a boy and a girl.
My darling "daughter", may Allah bless you and whatever your reasons were for rejecting the use of my room, you've left me wondering till today what you meant by "NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS!"
My brain was in over-drive. The phrase "Nightmare before Christmas" kept playing and swarming my mind that morning. The day before I had had a heart-to-heart talk and discussion with one of my foreign students. We were talking about her impending marriage.
This student had been one of my favourite students when I was teaching English at one of the local colleges in town. She was very hardworking and was like a sponge. Whatever was imparted to her, she would absorb them fervently and enthusiastically. She was a fast and an eager learner. It was a joy teaching her. She has an exquisite face and much loved by her friends and lecturers alike.
As she is an orphan, she looks up to me like her own mum. She lost both her parents when she was four years old. Her parents had both been killed during the civil war in her country. They had been brutally murdered. She lived with foster parents during her growing-up years.
After completing her high school, she decided to leave her country and came to Malaysia to study English. That was when our paths crossed. As she is such a lovable and a likeable person, I've learnt to love her like my own. Two years ago, she met an awesome Malaysian who asked for her hands in marriage. Needless to say, she accepted. I could see how much she loves her beau.
I had offered to sponsor her wedding and hold the reception in my house. After all, none of my kids are anywhere near marriagedom... Naturally she was excited and was so very much looking forward to her wedding.
But when told that I was going to give up my room to enable her and her husband-to-be to use it as their wedding room (I was prepared to give it up for a couple of days, of course with the consent of my husband) she looked at me in disbelief and to my consternation and heartache had exclaimed "Mum, I can't use your room. It's just not right."
Tried as I might to cajole her to change her mind, she was adamant and insistent that she only used my daughter's much-smaller room as her wedding room. I was heart-broken, as I had wanted so much for her to use my room as it is more spacious and more comfortable.
I was puzzled and kept wracking my brain to find out her reasons for not wanting to use my room. After all, it's not everyday that you become a bride or Queen of the day. And I had wanted so much for her to feel special and be swathed in a little luxury.
As curiosity might kill a cat, and it might just kill me, I had called her up to find out the actual reasons why she was resolute and steadfast in her decision not to use my room. After a little bickering and nerve-wrecking moments (as it had turned into an almost heated discussion), she breathed into the phone and spoke in a whisper-like tone and told me "Mum, if I were to use your room, it'll be just like a Nightmare Before Christmas!"
I was flabbergasted and was rendered speechless!!! Nightmare before Christmas!!! Now I wonder what she meant. Alas, and sad to say, I never did find out as she went on to use my daughter's room for her wedding night, and since then, had left to visit her foster parents in her birth-country bringing along the love of her life plus her bundles of joy. God had blessed her with twins, a boy and a girl.
My darling "daughter", may Allah bless you and whatever your reasons were for rejecting the use of my room, you've left me wondering till today what you meant by "NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS!"
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Selayang Hospital....what a pleasant surprise!!!
I was at Selayang Hospital today to visit an ex-colleague who had given birth to her first-born, a cute boy-bundle of joy.
This is the first time that I had visited Selayang Hospital, a government hospital. I must say I was pleasantly surprised.
The hospital came equipped with a large basement parking area and despite it being a Sunday and in spite of it being peak visiting hours, there was ample parking space and we had no difficulty at all finding a parking spot.
It was raining cats and dogs when we reached the hospital ground, and I was worried that we'd be stuck in the car, but when I saw the basement parking I was relieved. As I'm still recuperating from my chest infection, I didn't want to take any chances lest I caught the flu again.
Upon entering the hospital, we were greeted with wide open space which is a welcome relief and very welcoming.
The only snag was, unlike HUKM, their visiting hours on Sunday is rather inflexible and not hospital-friendly. At HUKM, on weekends, the visiting hours are from 12.30 to 7:00 p.m, whereas Selayang Hospital's evening visiting hours are from 5:00 p.m. to 7:00 p.m.
My husband and I had arrived a little early, around 4:20 p.m, so we decided to go for tea at their cafeteria which is a also widely spaced out. And once again, I was pleasantly surprised that when you asked for Nescafe tarik, less sugar, they really served you with less sugar, unlike 99.9% of other eateries or food outlet which are highly generous with their portion of sugar.
As we still had some time to kill, we sat along the corridor. And I was amused when I saw a little Chinese toddler. She was so cute and bubbly and extremely friendly. She approached a Malay lady who was seated near us, and offered her cake.
And later she came back for it, and "salam" the lady. I thought she'd walk away after that, but, she actually stopped and "salam" all the others who were seated along the same row, including the janitor who was busy emptying the rubbish. In my experience, only Malay kids were taught to "salam" but this Chinese toddler was really unique and a sight to behold.
Just before 5:00 p.m we headed for the maternity ward which was equally well spaced out. Kudos to the government for having a great infrastructure. It changed my perception somewhat of drabby, dinghy, eerie and ancient looking government hospitals.
Upon reaching my ex-colleague's bed, I was excited to see her baby next to her. He was swaddled in all pink so I thought I must have misheard her when she said she had given birth to a baby boy!!!
Indeed, Syida confirmed that it's a boy!!! New-born babies being babies, he sleeps through all the din and noise at the ward. He looks so peaceful and contented being swaddled in the blanket, I reckoned the feeling of still being in his mummy's womb.
We left after spending a couple of minutes with Syida and her baby, Haikal. Heartiest congrats Syida. Happy mothering and breastfeeding!!!
This is the first time that I had visited Selayang Hospital, a government hospital. I must say I was pleasantly surprised.
The hospital came equipped with a large basement parking area and despite it being a Sunday and in spite of it being peak visiting hours, there was ample parking space and we had no difficulty at all finding a parking spot.
It was raining cats and dogs when we reached the hospital ground, and I was worried that we'd be stuck in the car, but when I saw the basement parking I was relieved. As I'm still recuperating from my chest infection, I didn't want to take any chances lest I caught the flu again.
Upon entering the hospital, we were greeted with wide open space which is a welcome relief and very welcoming.
The only snag was, unlike HUKM, their visiting hours on Sunday is rather inflexible and not hospital-friendly. At HUKM, on weekends, the visiting hours are from 12.30 to 7:00 p.m, whereas Selayang Hospital's evening visiting hours are from 5:00 p.m. to 7:00 p.m.
My husband and I had arrived a little early, around 4:20 p.m, so we decided to go for tea at their cafeteria which is a also widely spaced out. And once again, I was pleasantly surprised that when you asked for Nescafe tarik, less sugar, they really served you with less sugar, unlike 99.9% of other eateries or food outlet which are highly generous with their portion of sugar.
As we still had some time to kill, we sat along the corridor. And I was amused when I saw a little Chinese toddler. She was so cute and bubbly and extremely friendly. She approached a Malay lady who was seated near us, and offered her cake.
And later she came back for it, and "salam" the lady. I thought she'd walk away after that, but, she actually stopped and "salam" all the others who were seated along the same row, including the janitor who was busy emptying the rubbish. In my experience, only Malay kids were taught to "salam" but this Chinese toddler was really unique and a sight to behold.
Just before 5:00 p.m we headed for the maternity ward which was equally well spaced out. Kudos to the government for having a great infrastructure. It changed my perception somewhat of drabby, dinghy, eerie and ancient looking government hospitals.
Upon reaching my ex-colleague's bed, I was excited to see her baby next to her. He was swaddled in all pink so I thought I must have misheard her when she said she had given birth to a baby boy!!!
Indeed, Syida confirmed that it's a boy!!! New-born babies being babies, he sleeps through all the din and noise at the ward. He looks so peaceful and contented being swaddled in the blanket, I reckoned the feeling of still being in his mummy's womb.
We left after spending a couple of minutes with Syida and her baby, Haikal. Heartiest congrats Syida. Happy mothering and breastfeeding!!!
Friday, November 12, 2010
When Death Knocked Upon a Bedroom Door
’Twas early in the morning at four. When
death knocked upon a bedroom door.
”Who is there?” the
sleeping one cried. ”I’m Izrael, let me inside.”
At once, the man began to shiver, as one sweating in deadly fever,
he shouted to
his sleeping wife, ”Don’t let him take away my life.”
”Please go away, O Angel of
Death! Leave me alone, I’m not ready yet.
My family on me
depend, give me a chance, O please prepense!”
The Angel knocked again and again, ”Friend!
I’ll take your life without a pain,
’Tis
your soul Allah require, I come not with my own desire.
Bewildered, the man began to cry, ”O Angel! I’m so afraid to die
I’ll give you gold and be
your slave, don’t send me to the unlit grave.”
”Let me in, O Friend!” the Angel said, ”Open the door, get up from your bed.
If
you do not allow me in,I will walk through it, like a Jinn.”
The man held a gun in
his right hand, ready to defy the Angel’s stand,
”I’ll point my gun, towards your head.
You dare come in, I’ll shoot you dead.”
By now, the Angel was in the room, Saying, “O Friend! prepare for your doom.
Foolish man, Angels
never die, Put down your gun and do not sigh.”
”Why are you afraid!
Tell me O man, to die according to Allah’s plan?
Come, smile
at me, do not be grim, be happy to return to Him.”
”O Angel! I bow my head
in shame, I had no time to take Allah’s name.
From morn till dusk I made
my wealth, not even caring for my health.”
”Allah’s commands I never
obeyed nor five times a day I ever prayed.
A Ramadan came and Ramadan went but no time had I to repent.”
”The Haj was already fard on me But I would
not part with my money.
All charities I did ignore taking usury more and more.”
All charities I did ignore taking usury more and more.”
”Sometimes I sipped my favorite wine with flirting women I sat to dine.
O Angel! I appeal to you spare my life for a year or two.”
”The Laws of Qur’an I will obey, I’ll begin Salat this very day.
My Fast and Haj, I will complete, and keep away from self conceit.”
”I will refrain from usury, and give all my wealth to charity, wine and
wenches I will detest, Allah’s oneness I will attest.”
”We Angels do what Allah demands,
we cannot go against His commands
Death is ordained
for everyone, father, mother, daughter or son.”
”I’m afraid, this moment
is your last, now be reminded, of your past.
I do understand your fears but it is now too late for tears.”
”You lived in this world, two score and
more, Never did you, your people adore.
Your parents, you did not
obey, hungry beggars, you turned away.”
”Your two ill-gotten,
female offsprings, in night-clubs, for livelihood
they sing.
Instead of making more Muslims, you made your children
Instead of making more Muslims, you made your children
non-Muslims.”
”You ignored the Mu’athin’s
Athaan, nor did you read the Holy Qur’an.
Breaking promises all your
life, backbiting friends, and causing strife.”
”From hoarded goods, great profits you
made, and your poor workers, you
underpaid. Horses and cards were
your leisure, money-making was your
pleasure.”
”You ate vitamins and grew more fat,
with the very sick, you never sat.
A pint of blood you never gave, which could a little baby save.”
A pint of blood you never gave, which could a little baby save.”
”O human, you have done enough wrong,
you bought good properties for a
song.
When the farmers appealed to you,
you did not have mercy, ‘tis true.”
”Paradise for you? I
cannot tell, undoubtedly you will dwell in hell.
There’s no time for you to repent,
I’ll take your soul for which I’m sent.”
The ending, however,
is very sad. Eventually the man became mad.
With a cry, he jumped
out of bed. And suddenly, he fell down dead.
O Reader! take a moral from here,
you never know, your end may be near.
Change your living and make amends, for heaven, on your deeds depends.
Change your living and make amends, for heaven, on your deeds depends.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
I huffed and puffed....to no avail
11 November 2010, Thursday
WOW!!! It's been 11 days since I last posted something. That's a really long hiatus for me given that I make it a point to post on an almost daily basis.
These 11 days had actually been the longest days of my life. An acute chest infection had floored me and I was warded for 8 days at a private hospital.
Being hospitalized isn't something unusual to me, but this time it really took a toll on me. The infection seems extremely persistent and dogged and refused to desert me.
From the time I huffed and puffed at the A&E, I was given round the clock nebuliser and oxygen. And even on the day I was discharged (9 November 2011), I was still wheezing quite badly. As I had been harrassing my doctor persistently, he finally relented and discharged me.
I reckoned since it's gonna take a while before I'm fully recovered, I may as well wheeze at home, FOC!!!! My 8 days' stay had not only burnt a deep hole in my pocket, but I had missed home awfully.
Today, I'm well on the road to recovery, albeit slow, and what's wonderful, it's Home Sweet Home.
WOW!!! It's been 11 days since I last posted something. That's a really long hiatus for me given that I make it a point to post on an almost daily basis.
These 11 days had actually been the longest days of my life. An acute chest infection had floored me and I was warded for 8 days at a private hospital.
Being hospitalized isn't something unusual to me, but this time it really took a toll on me. The infection seems extremely persistent and dogged and refused to desert me.
From the time I huffed and puffed at the A&E, I was given round the clock nebuliser and oxygen. And even on the day I was discharged (9 November 2011), I was still wheezing quite badly. As I had been harrassing my doctor persistently, he finally relented and discharged me.
I reckoned since it's gonna take a while before I'm fully recovered, I may as well wheeze at home, FOC!!!! My 8 days' stay had not only burnt a deep hole in my pocket, but I had missed home awfully.
Today, I'm well on the road to recovery, albeit slow, and what's wonderful, it's Home Sweet Home.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
What are you to your.....
Enchantment?
What are you to your little bundle of joy?
Tenderness?
Adoration?
Fairytale?
Womb?
Warmth?
Love?
What are you to my broken heart?
Safe heaven?
Sanctuary?
Band aid?
Therapy?
Antidote?
Remedy?
Solace?
Tonic?
Pillar?What are you to your society and community?
Bastion?
Fortress?
Mainstay?
Reverence?
Admiration?
Rock of Gibraltar?
Ardor?What are you to me?
Refuge?
Passion?
Devotion?
Comy Bolster?
Commitment?
Sugar and Spice?
And Everything nice?
Saturday, October 30, 2010
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