Facts About Free Speech.

In wake of the hu-has about a controversial film insulting Prophet Muhammad (PBUH), writer Yasmin Mogahed wrote something that I entirely agree with.

Quoted from her FB status:

Insult African Americans, and it is called "Racism".
Insult Jewish People, and it is called "anti-Semitism".
Insult women, and it is called "sexism".
Insult homosexuals, and it is called "intolerance".
Insult your country, and it is called "extremism".
Insult Muhammad (PBUH), and it is called "free speech".

True indeed.

So in reality, free speech is really very selective, isn't it.

Ageing

An old friend of mine came over today with her kids. She's heavily pregnant, 30-something, beauuuutiful still (even 'hawt' when she isn't pregnant). We spoke about Raya and she had a good laugh about a picture of us a friend had uploaded onto FB.

Reason being? She said we looked terribly old.

I countered by saying I thought we looked fine. I actually honestly did. Not too fat, no wardrobe malfunctions in the forms of exposed bra straps or hiked-up skirts (good God), and no smudgy makeups reminiscent of the good ol' clubbing days of runny eyeliners and mascaras (goodness, no no no).

But she said, noooooo, we did NOT look fine.

Such 'healthy' girls (size-wise, really), who really looked 30-something already.

Errr. Okay..

Correct me if I'm wrong but are 30-somethings supposed to look like 20-somethings..?

Mmmm maybe in a land far far away from my world. Like Hollywood maybe?

It is odd how cynical people get about ageing.

This one's in memories of;

Ninie, eternally 25.
Saleem, eternally 20.
Faisal Latiff, eternally 19.
Najib, eternally 26.

And many other forgotten ones. Young always. Al-Fatihah.

*Image from google.

Fish Mongers

Also known as SELFISH people!

Yesterday night at Uptown Kota D'sara a BMW parked right beside my car, blocking any access for me to get out of my parking spot and leave the place. I spent 30 minutes honking away like a maniac (with my blood at boiling point of course) until my stupid Alza honk stopped working. FYI if you buy a Perodua car next time be prepared lah for small faults here and there. The sad reality is that they still can't compete with the resilience of Japanese cars.

Anyway.

After numerous announcements by the deejay at the karaoke counter at Uptown, an old man came waddling down the stairs, rushed forward towards the BMW (KBS 66, I will remember your plate number for a long time), gave an apologetic wave and drove the car out.

The only thing that stopped me from getting out of the car and screaming obscenities to him was the fact that he was grandpa-like. There is no way I would shout at an old, white-haired man in this lifetime, especially in front of Gibran (who was already sleepy as he|| and very upset with all the grumbling/complaining his Mummy was doing).

So, too late, old man. Apologetic wave or not, you ruined our night with your uncaring, selfish attitude. Since you were planning to go minum-minum with your other datuk friends, you should've taken the effort to find a proper parking place instead of blocking a tired young family.

I don't get our society. I really don't.

Say what you want lah. I. DON'T. CARE.

Most Malaysians have an attitude problem.

First and foremost, this double-parking thingy would not be a common happening if developers have enough parking slots for people who frequent retail areas. For this to happen rules have to be in place. It starts with the people governing developments and giving out permits and such. In Melbourne for every square feet of retail area, there has to be at least a certain set amount of parking spaces allocated for customers. So parking at retail areas are ample. Plus the wrongdoers get fined every single time. So noone dares to be a wrongdoer. That's effective enforcement. Not that stupid tow truck coming to haul double-parked cars away every once in a blue moon to prove a point. What's the point? Most days of the year noone would feel afraid to double-park anyway here in Malaysia anyway.

And right into the society our attitude problems continue. Ineffective enforcement means freedom to do as you like and not get caught. And wow are we Malaysians gutsy or what. We'd double park everywhere we feel like.

The mosque in DU is packed with double-parkers on Fridays. Once a guard from our area told an elderly guy (nicely, mind you) to please, do not park in front of the gates of a resident. The guy slammed the door, beeped beeped his big-a$$ car alarm, and shouted at the guard; "AKU NAK PEGI SEMBAHYANG LAH! TAU TAK SEMBAHYANG TU APA?"...

Wow we Malaysians are never wrong. Off you go to pray to God after a nice shout you give to a poor guard just doing his job. I'm sure the gates of heavens would be glad to open for you.

I sound bitter. Do I? Yes I do.

Selfish people get to me. They make me pray for bad things to happen to them. And that ain't good for my faith and soul.

And in this country there's nothing I can even do about it.

All I can do is pray for faith and strength to handle these selfish people in a better way next time. I won't honk till my silly local car's honk gets spoiled. That'll only cost me a useless amount of money to replace and the next grandpa that does that won't even be affected by it. I won't nag and grumble till my five-year old intan payung gets a drift of the negative karma and has difficulties falling asleep. That'll only affect the mind of the darling boy that he is.

I will only zikir. And pray. And zikir some more. And hope for justice in karma.

The Year 2011

This year, I will..

.. continue going to the gym, amidst all the negative and insensitive comments I still get from friends and family about actually lovin' gym.

.. continue running because no one, I mean no one, should take for granted the blessing that God gives us by giving us these lovely feet to walk and run with. There are people in this world who wish they can stand, much less walk or run. So thank You, Allah.

.. try to not be afraid of changes. Because nothing is permanent except changes.

.. focus on the positive elements from my surroundings and filter the negative ones that can drag me down. Because foolish is she who expects others to change. Thus I must change myself and how I see things.

.. contribute more to our household income and (goes without saying) the monthly expenditures.

.. not be afraid to start teaching Gibran to read. I will persevere and be brave or even fierce when needed.

.. love this life that I am in. I will count my blessings everyday. I will write down one good thing that happened that day (everyday!) so that I'll always remind myself to stay optimistic.

.. last but not least, I will remind myself of this everyday: it is never too late to be what you might've been.

So this year, I will have faith and be happy. For my boys deserve happiness. Because they make me happy!

Friends of the Heart

I love my old friends. I really do. We've been through thick and thin. They've tolerated so much from me, and vice versa I'm sure ;)

But alas, even old friends change.

When I gave birth to Gibran and chose to change my priorities, I was shocked when I actually lost some friends. The biggest shocker for me was losing my oldest, best-est friend. At least, I thought she was. When my priorities changed and family became my main priority (instead of career, friends and fun).. I lost her, and a few more.

To tell you the truth, I was 15 weeks pregnant with Gibran when I was first exposed to the idea of the life-changing magnitude a baby would bring. A bunch of us were vacationing at a friend's seaside summer home in a town two hours outside Melbourne CBD (gosh, can't recall the name of the place now), when our friend Mr. Murali told H..

"When your baby is born, you'll see who your real friends are. You'll lose some, you know. Don't worry about it. You'll see who will really stick by you."

Back then I thought it was such a joke.

Why would our lives change so drastically? I'd had the same best friends since I was in primary school. I was so sure life would pretty much be the same post-baby.

Gosh, how wrong was I lah....?

Gibran was born. He was so so so ill. He nearly died. And that was the closest brush I had to mortality, other than when Ninie my best bud had died a year before that.

Realisation of mortality changes you. Big time.

When we started turning down invitations to go out, even during broad daylight (because of a constantly ill infant), the number of friends H and I had..... dwindled.

When my implants got infected and I chose to quit work for good and stay home for good (because there were so many missed moments with my child already, after so many months of being sick and confined to the bed, not being able to participate in the "living" of daily routines..)... the number dwindled even further.

It was a huge reality check.

Whatever it is, the ones I still have, I cherish so very much. Really, I do.

They might not know it, they might not believe it. But my family and the few friends I have... are the very core of my world.

I do wish I could see them more often! But everyone has their own lives and I respect that. Just as I'm sure they respect my life as well.

And that acceptance of the bad that comes with all the good that friends bring... is indeed what I hope will sustain our friendships till our golden years. InsyaAllah. Amen.


Gosh we don't look that young anymore, do we?! I must find a picture when we were in our 20s and do a comparison soon ;p


Mummy friends help me remain sane.


For their acceptance of my little (not-so-little) baby... I can't thank them enough.

How did your life change...?

White Flag, Flagged

Remember how I've hung my white kitchen towel as a surrender-flag..?

Yessss sirree.

If you asked me a year ago if I wanted another maid after our imposter-of-a-maid ran off, I'd have told you "No way!" ....

After a year blinked by and everyday my life is consumed by laundry, dishes, screaming kid (and parents! i.e. us screaming at each other!)... this no-salary, no-promotion job has definitely taken its toll. H and I haven't had a date in a year, I haven't done any marketing or lecturing-related job in a year (don't even ask me what's the latest in the marketing or education world, dudes..), the only movies we see are cartoon flicks with Gibran yakking away in our ears and us trying to hush him as he bothers the people around us with his constant yakking, my sleeping time has been reduced to 2 am to 8 am (very unhealthy).. and the worst part was my increased grouchiness.

I indeed salute those full-time maidless housewives and full-time maidless working mums out there for their dedication and willingness of continual self-sacrifice done without an ounce of grouchiness. Because obviously I'm not one of those.

So, braving the tense-ness and frustrations that come with having a maid.. we're trying out a new maid right now. She arrived four days ago and is learning the ropes, as we speak.

No I'm not gonna say anything about her or the situation. I'm not evaluating her. I'm not judging her. I'm not saying it's good, or it's not good. I'm only saying... Tawakkaltu A'lallah... I am leaving this 100% to the Almighty. I pray that this maid is a good human being inside. That's it.

Nothing is within my control. It is all in His hands.

On my part... the only thing I can say is... DANG, I'll have to look into job opportunities for next year.

Soon.

A Letter to Malaysian Marathon Runners

I'd better write this while I have the time and flow.

Dear Marathon Runners,

It was indeed an exciting day today as we flocked together to run the 5km and 10km marathons right there in front of KLCC, in the wee hours of the morning. The excitement was electric and it was indeed a memorable picture to be gathered in a place where we'd otherwise wouldn't be allowed to walk on, much less run.

Perhaps for most of you this wasn't your first marathon. Why, there was the Standard Chartered KL marathon earlier this year. Then there are countless marathons and races around Malaysia and Singapore that I don't even know of. Just looking at the countless blogs on running made me realise that marathons and races have become the fashionably healthy thing to participate in right now. After my first marathon I'd comme to love the adrenaline, hence it was natural to join as many marathons as I am able to. It's a joy to walk and run in the early hours of dawn, where in truth, one's competition is only oneself.

Now let me blunt and just let out what needs to be said.

I know it's exciting to be all pumped up to run as immediately as the word "Go!" is shouted out, but please, please PLEASE take note that safety should be your first priority.

I'm not talking about your own safety. If any of you are willing to hurt yourself by hurling through the crowd at a speedy pace without a proper warmup or whatever, that's your business. I'm talking about the safety of other people around you.

Is it really necessary to barge into people, even elbow them aside to fight your way to the front of the crowd just so you seem very "terrer" and awesome? Please. For those that did just that, by now you should obviously realise that being an awesome runner is all you're good for. Well, good on you.. because you've displayed that kindness and sporting spirit is definitely nowhere in your personality traits.

It's a marathon. Marathons are filled with people. Big crowds. You want to have a lot of personal space while running, go and run somewhere alone. Don't join the big crowds.

And has it ever occured to you that accidents can easily happen? Does it ever occur to you that you could badly hurt someone, to the extend of changing their lives?

I've had two major spinal surgeries in my life. A bad smack or a bad fall could affect my spine and the lodged-in titanium implant on my spine. So I do keep aside for the crowds to past. I try very hard not to get in people's way. And the way everybody pushed and elbowed each other to get ahead was putting vivid images of yet another spinal surgery right there in my head.

Of course I realise we run at our own risk and if you want to stay safe and sound, for God's sake, just stay at home. But really, people, even if the streets were filled with perfectly healthy people... it does not make it alright for you to be rude and rash.

So go ahead and run. But please be more considerate of the people you are shoving and elbowing aside for the sake of an extra two to three seconds of better-ing your time.

Thanks for reading.

Yours Sincerely,

A slow and steady walker-jogger.

Having One, Or Having None At All

My mummy-group friend, S, is a thalassemia minor carrier and so is her husband. When she was pregnant with her child, A (who's Gibran's classmate now), his fetus had to be tested to determine if abortion would be required. As Allah willed it, A escaped the dreaded fate.

S is not willing to go through the traumatic experience ever again. There is too large a chance that the next baby would not be so lucky, and termination might be required. So she isn't going to have another baby.

A week ago she told me it fully hit her, finally, that A would never have a sibling to squabble and grow up with. A would always be playing alone and would never know the joys and sorrows of having siblings. And when S and her husband leave this world, A will be alone with noone to reminisce his childhood with. And as the reality dawned on her, she cried all night long.

My other friend, A, has serious thyroid problems and is advised against having babies. She took the risk and had one. And nearly died from it. The child is now 11 years old, the apple of her eye, the center of her being and everything that she lives for. In shopping complexes, she looks at stressed-out mothers with battalions of kids with eyes full of yearning. When there are babies at our get-togethers she can be found sitting with them, not with the adults. She holds on to her daughter's hand as they walk together much as if it was her lifeline.

Sometimes I don't know which is worse. Having one, or having none at all.

At every family gathering there will be somebody who asks us why we aren't having any more kids, and why we're so slow at reproducing. Don't we want to give Gibran a friend? Indeed we are being selfish. Hmmmm.

At every gathering when mothers talk about kids, we are cast aside and our opinions aren't given due credit because.. ".. it isn't the same for you, you wouldn't know how it is, you've only got one kid."

I wouldn't change my fate for anything in the world. The day Gibran came into my life was the best day of my life. So say what you want. Criticise me, scorn at me. I stand by this question.

Is it really better to have one, than to have none at all..?

Yeah, bring on the punches.

Ramadan. Puasa.

Ramadan is a special special month to me. It's the month to cleanse one's soul. The month to feel all the goodness in you emerge in special ways and the evilness disappear in mysterious ways. Well, almost...

In reality, Ramadan is a nerve-wrecking month for me.

I get nervous about not being able to fast because I could not fast for 5 years when the gastric was so bad that I had to be on constant medication. Itu lah.. force yourself to puasa some more on hot, longgggggggggggg Australian summer days when your stomach cramps are already so bad you feel the room is spinning even when you're sitting down. That's what one gets for being plain $tupid.

I get nervous as the hour gets late and the evening heat makes us wither when all energy has been spent and everyone's running on their back-up power generator. Temper gets short, things can happen. And the most nerve-wrecking fact of it all is that you know that all this temper and bad-ness that comes out of you stems from deep within you, and it shows just what kind of a lousy human being you are, because... well, simply because there are no syaitans around to blame for bad behaviour when Ramadan's here.

And yet I look forward to Ramadan all year.

May this Ramadan be good to us.

Selamat Menyambut Ramadan, y'alls.

Baby Baby

I do. not. like. it when people ask me when we'd be having our number two.

A second child lah, that is.

A good friend with bigger fertility problems than mine used to reply.. "Esok! Esok aku keluarkan sebijik baby, tengok lah nanti!" with a wink and a smile so convincing, you'd never imagine the pain in that heart every time the question was asked.

Fertile people do not know the pain that infertility causes. They can say they do, but in all honesty, they. really. don't.

But in the meantime, I'll be saying this a lot, I can imagine.

"Tomorrow! Tomorrow I'll pop a baby out, you just see!"

Shutting Down the Blogs

I might shut my blogs down. I always feel like I've run out of time for them and there're too many things on my mind that cannot be said out loud. Funny how people often experience writer's block but mine's the total opposite. Too many things that cannot be said, too many things that want to be said sadly don't get said because of lack of time and opportunity.

I'm still unsure about this though. Maybe I should just make my blogs private. As in, seriously private. Hmmm.

Side by Side

While at Mum's Place weeks ago (yes, another Mum's Place moment), we were held captivated by a rare moment in time..


KJ and RPK side by side, y'all!

Now all that's left for a girl to wish for is World Peace.

Hehhhhh..

The Silent Fart

While dining at Mum's Place a couple of weeks back, I saw this sign on display..


Hah!

Let me just say that I agree with the "nobody ever notices who did it" part but.. the feeling good part...

Maybe it should say "nobody ever notices who did it but it stinks anyway."

Or to be more precise, in my opinion.. "... it stinks and it feels good." Now, that's accurate!

Shocking Moments With The Kids

When H tried to snap a picture of Sarah and Nabeel playing PSP side by side, Sarah suddenly realised that she was being eternalised in her all-sloppy-glory (muka belum mandi)..

Sarah: "Don't!!!"
H: "What? Noone's gonna look at this picture."
Sarah: "Whatever Major Looser!" (while making the W-M-L signs with her fingers)

Reminds me of those days when Clueless was the in-movie back when we were teens and we'd end all of our sentences with "Whateverrr...." while making that W-finger-sign. Now we kena in return. Pfft!

When looking at a picture of a girl hugging a girl in the newspaper (not an ad picture), Sarah suddenly asked..

Sarah: "Hey Mummy, diorang ni lesbians eh?"
Me: "Whaaa....?? Where on earth did you get that idea?"
Sarah: "Lesbians are girls who like to touch each other, you know."
Me: "Yeah I know, but in this case I don't think it's a lesbian case. Besides, you do know lesbianism is Haram, right?" (can you see that I got speechless?)
Sarah: "Of course la Haram. But that doesn't seem to stop people from being lesbians, kan?"
Me: *utterly speechless*

When talking to Shazwan, I told him..

Me: "Shazwan, I think your suara dah pecah." (when a boy's voice breaks and matures/deepens)
Shazwan: "Ye ke, Mummy? But you tau tak I tak pernah mimpi or anything like that. So that means I'm not baligh yet, right?" (matured boys have those dreams, that's what he was referring to!)
Me: *speechless once again*

What on earth am I gonna do when the time to deal with a pre-teen or teenage Gibran comes???

I am so ill-equipt!

On "Housewives"

"Housework is what a woman does that nobody notices unless she hasn't done it."

Ain't that true?

H isn't the typical sort of man who never helps with the housechores. He vacuums, he cleans, he washes (everything including Gib's bum bum), and his latest obsession is hunting for ants all over the house. I wouldn't know what I'd do without him.

But I still get bothered sometimes by that age-old question. That li'l question that must've crossed any woman's mind at some point of time. Perhaps for some, the question would never be said, and would be thought of in different ways. But for me it's really simple.

Is this really worth it?

A woman is called a "housewife", which always sounds (to me at least) like she does nothing but sits, at home. Sort of like a house cat.. or a house dog. Any kind of house pet. And you know what housepets do. Imagine a "housecat". A housecat eats, lazes, plays, poos and pees in the house. A housecat seldom roams outside. So, really, it makes you wonder. Who on earth came up with the term "housewife" lah..?

You know why I can't help but ask myself that question up there sometimes..?

Coz you know you run the house (ok ok so in this paragraph the word "you" means "me" lah okayyy). Without you, without your hands, your efforts, and your obsession with organising and managing the house.. you know the house'll fall apart. Sure, people will survive, life will go on. After all, noone is indispensable. But as the days go by and you do ALL the little things that needs to be done in the house, you start to wonder if anyone notices all these things you do. Your hands get sore and your back starts aching. And then ultimately you'll definitely start wondering if the pains and efforts are all worth it because.. does anyone even notice all these things you're doing..?

So little do people know.. what a "housewife" really wishes for is appreciation. Appreciation and love and respect for her needs sometimes. Maybe once in a while the housewife could go out with the girls and have a fun little shopping trip. Or maybe have that much needed pedicure. Or even 20 minutes all to herself to work out and feel good about herself and her body. That'd be nice.

It's different for men. However helpful the men are, it'll always be different. The men get to go to work. The men get paid to go to work. The men can have lunches with colleagues and friends. The men get personal time to work out or fun activities like recreational sports.

It might sound so petty and whiny, but I never really thought about this until I became a full-fledged, maid-less housewife myself. And no, sorry ladies.. you won't totally get this if you've got a maid at hand to help you out. My Mom, for instance, always had help at hand. It's a different kind of game plan if you are the sole person responsible for your home, and everyone in it, and all of their individual needs. For the first time in my life, I'm seeing things from the perspectives of a honest-to-goodness-fulltime-housewife.

I somehow stumbled into this piece of writing as I was surfing the net. And it made me wonder why people often give so little thought to needs of a fulltime "housewife". I'll come to the conclusion now. Below is the thing that I need to say. This is the thing that needs to be said because I finally understand what being a "housewife" is all about. And it needs to be said because these people get so little credit. I never gave them much thought before this as well. So now that I've been forced to join their ranks, I have to say this. As cheesy as it sounds.

Being a "Housewife" is definitely a JOB.

You don't get paid. You often don't even get noticed. You'd hardly ever get promoted. In fact sometimes you'd get demoted. There're no KPIs to fulfill. But IT'S A JOB. No holidays. No breaks. Just an ongoing, unstopping, demanding sort of JOB.

And I absolutely salute you ladies out there who proudly call yourself "Housewives". Those who've gone through this, those who are going through it as we speak, and especially those who do it from the sincerest depths of their hearts.

People can think and say whatever they want when they read this. But this person's point of view pertaining "Housewives" would never again be askewed.

Why I Don't Like Having a Maid

The main reason I don't like having a maid is because they're a test to the heart and soul. In other words; "mencabar keimanan". At least that's how I feel.

Having a maid is suppose to simplify your life. But this is not usually the case. In the mornings our maid cleans the house and does the laundry. You might think this means that the employer's worries about cleanliness and clothes are non-existent, but this isn't so. There is the constant worry and need to check whether the maid's using the washing machine correctly (many a machines have been destroyed at various maids' hands), and whether the clothes are hung correctly. Clothes would be hung peg-less and many a piece of clothing would be scattered all over the garden if checking isn't done. Clothes would also stink and stain if they are not cleaned and washed properly, which is often the case in our house. And there's the ironing issue. Many clothes have been burnt and scarred by poor usage of the iron and so the ironing is also another chore requiring constant check-ups.

So those are the worries one has concerning the maid and the laundry. Lets get down to the next issue of cleaning and cleanliness.

Using the vacuum cleaner requires constant guidance and monitoring as well. Although taught to use the vacuum many times, our maid still uses it wrongly. Vacuum is left switched on for too long until the motor feels like it's about to explode. Dust isn't emptied correctly and servicing would be required soon after. Yet another machine with a history of many ill-treatments at the hand of various maids. Washing the toilet needs constant spot-checks too. Brushes meant for usage on the toilet floor would be used for the sinks and tubs if not checked on. Whatever that has been taught ten times would have to be repeated constantly over the weeks just in case the maid claims; "Saya dah lupa.." about what you teach.

And then there're the hygiene issues.

Repeatedly told not to rub her nose or play with her toenails and such (yes the maid does this) while feeding the kid... the maid would still do it if one doesn't keep an eagle eye on her. How'd you feel about a hair or (worse still) a booger in your kid's food?

Then there're all the other small things that you've taught but are constantly done wrong because... "Saya lupa.." ("I forgot") or "Saya ingatkan boleh buat begitu.." ("I thought it could be done this way"). Want examples? Using the sponge to wash plates to wash sinks and stovetops is one such example. Or "forgetting" to clean the brown stains and scums in various parts of the toilets when asked to wash the toilet. Or even forgetting to take her own mid-day shower which results in a really stinky body odour by early evening (errr.. God forgive me for saying this).

So if you still think having a maid simplifies life, think again. If you're one of the blessed people who have good maids, good on you! But if you're right here in the same boat as I am in...

May God give us strength and patience indeed!

I need a maid because God gave me the test of the spine. I cannot do a lot of housework and am not allowed to lift Gib when necessary. At every mealtime the maid lifts Gib into his high-chair and during car rides, the maid lifts him into his carseat. When / If Gib is unwell and needs cuddling, the maid lifts him up and puts him on my lap because I am not allowed to do this myself. So yes.. having a maid is a necessity to me. And as Allah is my witness, the maid is also one of life's biggest trials that God has sent me. Wallahualam. I should be glad that my life's trials are not bigger than mere maid-issues.

But as usual there is one last thing that needs to be said.

To those without maids, I envy you and respect you for making that choice.

And one day when the child(ren) are grown up and there isn't a need to have a stay-in maid, I'm sure there are other things to complain about. Hehh. C'est la vie!

Ramadhan's Challenges

Already some personal challenges have come my way. I am quite sad at the turn of events. But alas, there is still time and hope to ponder and improve in this wonderful month. InsyaAllah. May God guide me to a better path here onwards.

Some people have been "carrying their mouths" ("bawak mulut" ..) and saying untrue things which could get in the way of one of the oldest relationships I've had in my life. No, not with H lah. I'm talking about one of oldest, most treasured friends. One of the few I still hold on to and have hopes to one day share stories about our grandchildren.

I must write about this because it is something we can and must learn from.

Don't exaggerate or make-up stories about non-existent issues. Your seemingly harmless lies may harm people in ways you cannot imagine and unknown to you.

Although we say we don't do this.. in reality we all do. In some way or another. In little ways or in big ways. Whatever it is, now that the hurt is right here in my field, I say we should all strive to always be aware of what we say or do. For in doing and saying things that we think are harmless, we could possibly bring hurt into other people's lives.

We could and should strive to be better people, friends. Maybe we can improve together.

Help Thou Neighbour

I was up late and heard some "unaccustomed" noises on our street. Since our area's been partially closed (a section of our housing area is now gated and guarded), our street's been a lot quieter.

Curious about the sounds of purring engines, hushed voices, rattling car doors accompanied with some weird lights coming through the cracks on our window blinds.. I peeked. And saw a UMMC ambulance parked in front of a neighbour's house across from ours.

Ambulances make my heart fall. They make my jantung skip a tiny beat and then if there're sirens on, they'd pull my heart right down into my foot or something like akin to that. My first surgery was so bad, I've learned what it's like for an invalid person who is helpless and cannot move while doctors cut and sew and do things to your body. Remembering the wake-up test during the surgery (when they wake you up mid-surgery to ask you to wriggle your toes; this is to test nerve function once they've fused your spine), I can imagine what it's like for a patient to feel helpless and ill. There is nothing worse than being so ill, you cannot force yourself to wake.

I wonder how the person feels. That person who was straddled onto the stretcher, helplessly taken into the ambulance and to the hospital tonight, not 20 minutes ago.

After the ambulance left, there were some more noises and I peeked again. Saw two people get into the car and drive out of the house. No doubt to follow their loved one who was taken to the hospital.

Both times when I peeked, I was overcome with a feeling of guilt and shame. I really really wish there was something I could do to help. Or just ask if there is anything they need help with. And then I realised that I don't even know their names. I don't know who they are.

And they live just several houses away from us.

When I was little, this neighbourhood was different. Everybody knew everybody. Neighbours went to other neighbours' houses. I remember going to Uncle Dzul's house across the street (of the Dzul Dental Surgery here in DU, and whose daughter is part of the wonderous WonderMilk) and playing with his kids. Now when we bump into each other, we'd just smile and raise our hands. That's it. We don't even visit each other during Raya anymore.

Then there's Uncle Rony next door who is (and always was) very tolerant of the shoutings and screamings that came from our noisy house back when all five kids stayed here in this ol' DU house. Once, years ago, Shazwan and Sarah threw stuffed toys into their compound and Aunty Michelle came knocking on my car window to return the toys to us. I was so shocked I thought she was one of those mute people who go around selling stuffed toys to the general public, and I kept on shaking my head and gesturing "No, No, taknak beli". To which she good-naturedly laughed and later on forgave me for it. Hehhh. Malu woh.

But other than them... we don't know any other neighbours.

So in the end, in the event like tonight, when we so wanted to reach out and offer help.... we don't know how. And so we couldn't help.

This is not the right way to live, is it, my friends?

When we were in Melbourne, Margaret our downstairs neighbour used to irritate the heck out of us. But if we put Margaret aside (in the discarded-memory-box where she ought to belong), come to think of it.. we had good neighbours.

Once we had a blackout and H and I were peeking out of our front door to see if the main power switchbox in the hallway tripped, and Fiona from across the hall came out to check if we had enough candles to face the blackout. When we went out onto the balcony, that buff neighbour of ours from the next block (forgot his name) called out to ask if we were okay, and if we needed some candles or torchlights.

Then there were those bees which built a humongous (really!) nest on the balcony of one neighbour from next door and the buff neighbour approached us and asked if we'd like to go along to tell the neighbour that they had a bee infestation, and to offer help to remedy the situation somehow.

And once when our foreign neighbour accidentally left her keys inside the apartment and was locked out, while her 2 year-old son was locked in the apartment, the neighbours upstairs hurriedly peeked to see if there was anything they could help us with when they heard the commotion (that was our shrill voices calling out to the li'l boy if he could reach and open the door).

We Asians are supposed to have more of a neighbourhood spirit, and culturally we were supposed to put more stress on social ties and relationships. At least that's what most researchers said back when I researched for Cross Cultural Negotiations. That Asian cultures are more concerned about interpersonal relationships and so on.

So where on earth did we go wrong?

Well...

I hope our neighbours are doing fine somehow.

Going Nuts

I think I'm literally going nuts. I'm sick of staying at home, caring for a kid who all of a sudden does not want to eat everything/anything we offer him, sick of these four walls and looking at the maid who never does anything right, sick of people telling me that we shouldn't bring Gib to public places coz that's why he got sick and we better be careful coz H1N1's rampant nowadays, sick of not knowing how to help Gib get rid of his access energy, sick of looking at my stupidly swollen foot that's costing a bomb to treat at that expensively stupid podiatrist, sick of trying to reason out with a 2.5-year old kid who's restless and always up to some thing or the other, sick of fearing of being sick, sick of being sick. I am so sick of everything.

And yes, who are we to say that we are sick of everything because there are always so many blessings given by the Almighty, and we should think of those and not those things that make us sick...?

I'm even sick of my own voices in my own head telling me not to be sick because that's just a really ungrateful thing to do when it's obvious God's blessed us with so many things although we lose sight of all those good things amongst the sickening things in life right now. And I'm sick of people telling me I shouldn't be feeling sick.

Am I making sense yet? Yes I know I'm not.

You know in Nemo that black fish, Gill, told Nemo; "Fish aren't made to live in a box, kid. It does things to you."

That's what humans are like too.

Humans aren't meant to be cooped up. It does things to you.

Like it makes me lose sight of the wonderful, great toddler that God's blessed me with. And it's made me lose sight of the fact that we are blessed to be able to afford a maid, because all I can see now is how hopeless this maid of mine is, and how she causes more headache than help. It's made me lose sight of so many things.

Maybe I need a holiday away from life.

Thank You Mr. Policemen

Our friend Tam was hanging out at our house earlier tonight and left not five minutes ago. It's always nice to have company, BUT....

I got so nervous tonight, I sweated buckets!!!!

I was busy gossipping with Tam when we heard loud crashing sounds on the porsh outside the house. We both rushed to the windows and saw half-a-red brick laying on the floor outside the window. The other half of the brick was laying outside the front door. I woke H up and told him that someone was throwing bricks at our house and then we called the Damansara Utama Police Station. Tam needed to get home and we didn't want to open the doors to a possible situation where there could be invaders in hiding, waiting to ambush us once the doors were opened. Hey, call me paranoid, but doesn't that happen fairly often in good ol' Malaysia?

Talk about a pleasant surprise; the coppers arrived within 5 to 10 minutes! Definitely under 10 minutes. Now that's public service.

They kept their siren lights going (minus the sound of course) and that attracted a number of neighbours to their doors for peakings. Surprising, the number of Malaysians still up at 2 a.m. There were two cops, one even armed with an M16. They took out their C.S.I.-like neon flashlights and circled around the house to make sure there was noone hiding in possible nooks and crannies.

We actually apologised for calling them over the very small matter of having bricks thrown into our car porsh, but they gravely told us that one can never be too careful nowadays with the rising criminal statistics. They both assured us that we did the right thing to call them because, yes, invaders could just ambush upon you at anytime. Don't ever think you're invincible in your own home, folks.

Once the policemen left, H and I sat like statues for a while in our living room while this realisation dawned upon us; noone is really entirely safe in their own homes. One has to be constantly aware of the dangers lurking in our societies, even when one feels falsely safe and secured in one own's home.

The bricks barely missed our cars. I've got a feeling that they were aiming for our cars but missed. Alhamdulillah. God protected us tonight.

And may Allah bless the coppers for their kindness and thoroughness, and guide them to provide their best for us. Because we do need watchmen in our society, and although I've never been a big fan of the Malaysian Police Force (ohhh yeahh... don't get me started on my lack of trust in the authorities.. I have trust issues, remember?) I must say that tonight they were there for us at the right time, and with the right words.

So thanks, Mister Policemen.