ask yourself what is just and true...

I have hesitated to write this post, not because of the content of which I want to convey but rather my inability to articulate my thoughts. I want this write-up to be eloquent so that the essence of the message will be properly mirrored as per what resonates in my head. Alas, it has taken me too long and I have decided to make it as short and simple as I can and to write what comes from my heart.

I have read so much about everything and anything on the blogs as well as media dailies online about the March for Justice, the loss of three princesses, the VK Lingam fiasco, the UMNO general assembly, the contradictory words and views of some and the continuous list of incidents in my beloved Malaysia.

It has made me ponder and I feel that this simple anak bangsa Malaysia post is the least that I can do to show my support to those marching on 10 November this Sabtu.

Before I continue, I would like to clarify that I am writing this as an anak bangsa Malaysia who is without any political inclinations but rather this post is a sincere shout out to all other anak bangsa Malaysia to walk for your nation, as one voice as one people.

I am not asking my fellow anak bangsa Malaysia to point fingers and resort to violence but rather to take a calm step forward by looking at the situation, to work hand in hand without the trappings of racial and social discrimination.

I am writing this post simply because I am anak bangsa Malaysia who thinks that it is time Malaysia goes through some change. Change will be slow in coming, if ever we were to see its face, should we continue to sit down and pretend to smile with empty souls devoid of ambition. Let us start the journey now.

I am simply asking my fellow anak bangsa Malaysia how can we continue with this charade when we know deep in our hearts that discontentment has long resided inside us.

I believe it is time that our Government at least take heed of what anak bangsa Malaysia have to say, to at least consider our opinion/s as the people who have entrusted them with our dreams as well as hope for a better nation.

I am anak bangsa Malaysia who believes in other anak bangsa Malaysia to uphold this goal of one nation and trusts them to continuously strive together in one direction and hold closest to their heart what they think is just and true.

I am merely one anak bangsa Malaysia who is asking all other anak bangsa Malaysia, is this really not the right thing to do?

anak bangsa malaysia - judgement + passion = one nation?

I nearly choked on my keropok that day as I refrained myself from shooting back a reply. Thing is I've learned through the years, that sometimes, its just better to hit the self-mute button and to listen to what others have to say. I do have to admit though, that my face nearly turned blue with effort as verbal diarrhoea is definitely one of the curses I am born with. With just enough will power that I could muster, I took a swig of my orange juice and listened nonchalantly to what she had to say.

Let me just say my friend was judging a person that she had never met before. She was judging that particular individuals character based on her friends assessment, who I must add had just met the person in question - ONCE.

I changed the topic after that, as sometimes you just know that its really not worth your time pitting against a person who has set her mind on something. She was not a close friend either so, I did not want to don the **tsk**tsk** you are better than that mask and tell her off. Plus, who was I to say anything? More often than not, I myself am guilty of doing the same thing - judging others without even knowing them.

We chatted for a bit more and I put the phone down. I sighed when I realised I had cleared a whole bowl of keropok by myself.

Whilst contemplating whether I should fry myself some more keropok or grab a weightwatchers toffee yoghurt, I caught myself slipping back to the day I was sitting at my table at the multinational company I was working with years ago. I still remember being completely gobsmacked when I was informed by my friend, that there was a petition against me.

Yes, you read the last sentence right, a petition against moi! I mean I can certainly be b****y at times, especially when I'm hungry but a petition? I remember a blush setting in when my friend told me exactly what had instigated the petition. Apparently my attire to work was a tad too, erm, provocative. It may seem funny when I look back now, but when it happened, I was exasperated.

I was so demoralised at that point as I thought my accomplishments at the company for the past five months had been in complete vain. I may not have been the best of employees but I took pride in my work and I do think that my work was acknowledged by the select few in the company. It was definitely a sad thing to know that several other people would actually nullify my efforts with something as trivial as my office attire. I mean quality of work = dress attire, make any sense? I was disappointed because I was judged based not on my work merits but rather, on the way I looked! I really did not know and understand these people, I went to work to earn my money, not to degrade my colleagues with petty assumptions.

To cut a long story short, my CEO called me into his office. I was prepared for the long lecture but I was also armed with my own points to debate should the need arise.

I was pleasantly surprised when he told me that he was not going to pay heed to the petition. He even laughed it off as he said that he had never heard such ridicule, to which I vehemently nodded my head in agreement. He dismissed the subject by immediately starting on another topic, and that was the end of it and I have never ever heard about it ever again.

This is not an exclusive incident, being judged is unfortunately a huge chunk of life. I have been judged many a time after that, and I too am guilty of doing the same thing unto others. Whether it be on a personal scale or on a bigger scale such as people assuming that I am lazy just because I am Malay. People have judged me for the friends I have depended on, for the career paths I have chosen to take, for the partners I have chosen to hold hands with, for the most mundane of things and for the biggest choices in my life.

All this, without knowing me or rather the lack of wanting to know me for the person that I am. Always, prejudging me for the person that they think I am.

Alas, it is so easy to judge people, to nit pick the worst in them and overlook the good points. I have learnt that what others think about you is not what matters, maybe you sometimes think about those closest to you, but in the end the choice is always in your own hands. What you want and believe in is ultimately what matters in YOUR life, so you should make your own decision/s.

So to my friend to whom I spoke to the other day, please make your choice independent of blind assumptions. Choose your battles and your weapons. Do not allow people to make your choices for you. My emphasis in our conversation tempoh hari, was not only about the people behind the much awaited change in Malaysia, it is also about what these people believe in. They believe in a better Malaysia and are passionate about making those changes.

Right now, time is running short. Malaysia needs change and it won't happen in the next couple of years if all anak bangsa Malaysia do is belittle the other. Let us leave the judging to other people, those bereft of a single sin in their lives (non-existent), or befittingly, judging should be left to God.

For all my other friends, let us learn and gain from the passion of the people who strive to make the dream of one Malaysia a reality. I yearn for the solid trickles of change, don't you? Malaysia needs a serious shake down, and we need people who believe in making those changes. I want to be one of those people, after all it is my nation and the future of anak bangsa Malaysia.

So, in the meantime, I have learned that no matter what anyone says about me, I will indignantly continue to extend my support to those who are working towards making those changes. Those who are not merely talking and complaining, but those who have the initiative and tenacity to actually walk the walk!

Come on anak bangsa Malaysia, is it not time to cast judgements aside and work together towards a better Malaysia?

Celebrating Eid, love and life…

Raya was a quiet affair for me di perantauan this year, I woke up staring at the ceiling then gazing out my window for the longest time. I was greeted by utter silence, no familiar sound, sight or smell that Friday morning. I wiggled my toes and realised how weird it was, not waking up to the usual banter of my sisters, the oh so yummy smell of Mummy's cooking wafting through the air, the smile on my brothers face and the bemused look on Daddy's face whilst watching all the usual pagi raya on goings in his own little shop of horrors, so to speak.

I scurried downstairs after a quick shower and sat in front of the tv before going to work, munching away on the raya jam tart Mummy had sent me from home. I don't know whether it was the tart or the silence that made me realise the gratitude I felt for this bit of quiet time to myself, however selfish that may seem.

That Eid morning allowed me to respice, adspice, prospice and after some silent deliberation, I have to admit that I am content at this juncture of my life, maybe I drag my feet and bearly trudge along at times but I'm standing here facing and loving life as it is. These past few years have been particularly hard as I have fallen over numerous times but fortunately, I have learnt to adjust my clumsy dance moves to the many tunes of life. It is not all in vain though as I have a new found determination and continue smiling at life as the chubby hippy-optmist that I am.

My thoughts brought me back to my younger years and I sighed as I remembered how easy life was. Waking up on pagi raya and showing off my new clothes to cousins di kampung, as kids usually do. Shaking hands and asking for forgiveness, at most times for selfish reasons as this ritual would merit a child receiving money packets from older relatives. It meant I could buy something that my heart desired but could not afford, but as I look back I realise how selfish I had become during those years. Eid was supposed to be in celebration of a month of fasting, a month of remembering those less fortunate, to remember what God had and continues to give us and there I was looking forward to an Eid that would bring me moolah!

Many Eid celebrations have passed and I have to say many experiences have been accumulated to make up my life. I do realise that the meaning of Eid has changed for me as I have grown older. I tend to reflect on life during Eid and sum up what I have become, what I have and have not achieved, reevaluate the things I cherish and formulate my resolutions for the next year. It has become a time for me to summarise my life, myself as a person and what I aspire to be.

I was jerked out of my thoughts at the sound of a car honking away. I realised that it was my ride to work. In the car, my thoughts pause on that first moment I arrived here in cold dreary England, I was heartbroken, my spirit was broken, I saw no future and worst of all, I did not see the present. I had lost my way, lost my thoughts, lost my will, lost myself and the thing I regret most, is that I nearly lost those closest to my heart.

I was truly selfish. I did not look around and count my blessings. I did not look at the people I must have hurt. I did not consider how much pain I caused them due to my selfishness. I never looked beyond my own wants and needs. I detest that phase in my life, not because I regret it, but because it shows my flaw in character and also how unappreciative I was of the love that was given to me by my dear ones, despite my shortcomings and my pure selfishness.

The journey to work seemed longer to me that morning as I peered outside at the falling leaves. My colleague was nice enough to have left me to my own thoughts or maybe it was because I had my eyebrows furrowed and was not my usual chirpy loud self. An image of my late grandmamma, or mak as I fondly called her, came to mind. It was the Eid before she left us, we were in her room, and it was one of those rare moments in which it was only the both of us. Young cousins were running amok outside, all the ladies were in the kitchen, literally cooking up a storm and the men were having their usual round of afternoon coffee. We were on her bed and I was playfully counting her gold bracelets on her left wrist. She asked me her usual ‘When are you going to get married’ question and at that time, despite my being in a serious relationship, I told her that I was still not sure but that she must definitely attend to see her favourite granddaughter being married off to, in my words, one very lucky fella.

I remember her answer clearly, she told me that she would always pray that I would meet someone who is worthy of my love, that I would find happiness and that I would live with hope and belief that would never diminish. She told me hope and belief go hand in hand like a kiss and a hug, that you always have to hope for the best and in turn believe with your whole heart that what you hope for will come true. She also said with a solemn smile, that I should always listen to my heart, cos more often than not, it speaks the truth. She finished off by saying that in order to keep a sensible head I should always always count my blessings, to never compare what little I may seem to have to others who may seem to have much more.

Her words reverberate constantly in my mind and I can still remember how I cried when she finished that final sentence. I remember her hair sprawled all over the pillow, her smile that proudly showed a missing tooth or two and the hint of a tear in her eyes when she said it. It was with such tenderness and love for a person who was not exactly the best of granddaughters.

As I summarised my life of 28 years, that colourful yet very chilly Eid morning, I realised the weight of truth in her words. My serious relationship ended the following year, but I found out that love is not only restricted to the foolish notion of the love for your other half. It also comprises the love that you have for your family, the love you have for your friends and the love that you should also have for yourself. One should love void of any expectation, to fully love without hesitation and to continue to love without outside trepidation.

At this moment in time, I am in love with life. I am in love with my family and I am in love with my friends. This love I feel, enables me to sigh contentedly and has also given me stability and hope. Hope is what made me change my ways, it was hope for love, hope for a better future and hope for happiness that helped me and carried me through the many difficult moments of my life. With the hope that I had, my belief carried my wishes through, so that they didn’t just remain as mere hope but became a reality.

Mak, thank you, it was your words that played a big role in giving me that final extra nudge to come here to chilly London.

Many people told me not to leave sunny Malaysia. Many told me that my decision was rash and unwise. Many told me that I should not listen to my heart. Save for the select few, you know who you are, thank you.

I realise now that this is the best decision of my life. I am glad that I followed this quirky little heart and I am glad that I had held close the hope and belief that things would change for the better.

I remember hitting the play button for a raya song when I sat down at my computer, and I remember that I started humming to myself while I listed the things I am grateful for.

I am blessed with love from a family who has never neglected me, love from friends that have never judged me, a job and experience that did not come easily and the renewed and constant hope and belief that a new and better future lies ahead of me.

Yes mak, I will always count my blessings, not look the other way and moan about what that I do not have.

This Eid has made me conclude that I am not the best of human beings, but I know that my blessings are in abundance. I lost many battles and have the scars to prove them, but I know that these battles will only help me in the future. I am armed with love, hope and belief to help me through many more Eid celebrations to come, Insya Allah.

But till next Eid, it is time to keep my old memories and make new ones. I am content with my life, I am.

You are always in my thoughts Mak, your hope and love will always live inside me. Your prayers are what made mummy’s troubles bearable and I know that it is the same strength that I will draw from as I continue on with my life.

Emergency Petition Supporting the People of Burma

Please if you have the time, take a look at the plea below and join me in supporting the Emergency Petition for the People of Burma. Every name makes that much difference!

Burma is ruled by one of the most brutal military dictatorships in the world. For decades the Burmese regime has fought off pressure--imprisoning elected leader Aung San Suu Kyi and democracy activists, wiping out thousands of villages, imposing forced labour, creating refugees- But last Tuesday Buddhist monks and nuns, revered in Burma, began marching and chanting prayers. The protests spread as hundreds of thousands of ordinary people and public figures joined in, finding the hope they'd lost. Now they're facing crackdown – so please, show your solidarity to this movement towards reconciliation and democracy and sign the emergency petition supporting the Burmese people -- it'll be delivered to United Nations Security Council members and international media all week: http://www.avaaz.org/en/stand_with_burma/tf.php?cl_tf_sign=1

In the past, Burma's military rulers have massacred the demonstrators and crushed democracy. The world must stand with the Burmese people at this time, to show the military rulers that the world will not tolerate repression and violence. Right now, global leaders are gathering in New York for the annual United Nations summit. In speeches, press interviews but also in real actions, we need them to show Burma's military junta that the global community is willing to act in solidarity with the protesters. Show your solidarity to this movement for peace and democracy and sign the emergency petition supporting the Burmese people. It'll be delivered to UN Security Council members and the UN press corps all week:http://www.avaaz.org/en/stand_with_burma/tf.php?cl_tf_sign=1

Thank you for your kind consideration and time!

Glimmer of hope

I wasn't there, but it is evident in many of the blogs (Rocky's Bru, Nuraina A Samad's 3540 Jalan Sudin, Shanghai Fish's The Penguins Walk ...!!!Tony Yew's Justice! We Want Justice!, Jules' Today I "behave like the Opposition", Jeff Ooi's 53 pictures, Patrick Teoh's A Walk for Justice, Polytikus' I Marched - All 8km of it!, Zorro's Today I salute our Malaysian lawyers), that there are a few thousand anak bangsa Malaysia who are willing to walk the talk for a better Malaysia. It is a glimmer of hope for those who. like me, still believe that change is possible.

I have renewed pride in wearing the Malaysian badge and hope with all my heart that changes are not too far away. Hopefully, our government will pause and listen to this plea for justice and consider taking to the dance floor and start swaying towards the inevitable rythmn of change. If it really is for the betterment of anak bangsa malaysia, then why not?

So my friends, lets put on our shoes and start practicing our new groove moves, just in case we have a new wave of music playing in the not so distant future.

(Please also click HERE to take a look at the Petition to His Majesty the Yang DiPertuan Agong by the People's Parliament, so that we may continue this March for Justice).

Silent resilience

On 26/9/2007, at 11.00 a.m., lawyers will march from the Palace of Justice to the PM’s office in Putrajaya to submit a memorandum to the cabinet calling for the setting up of a Royal Commission to investigate the rot that has set into the judiciary since 1988. All members of civil society, NGOs and NGIs are welcome to join the lawyers on the steps leading up to the Palace of Justice and to then proceed to the PM’s office.

5 buses have been chartered to ferry lawyers and those interested to join in the march from KL to Putrajaya. The buses will leave the Bar secretariat at 9.00 a.m. - People's Parliament.

I wish I was in Malaysia to walk with silent resilience in Putrajaya alongside the lawyers who want our judiciary system restored, alas I am but a million miles away.

I would like to urge all my friends who have always wanted this long overdue change, to walk the talk that we so often do. We have a chance to make a difference, lets take this first step together.

To those who will be participating in the Save the Judiciary march, I am with you in spirit and hope that this will be a new beginning for bangsa Malaysia.

home is where the heart is...

I have never been away from home during the month of Ramadhan, so this will be the very first time that I will be fasting di perantauan orang, in which I predict will be quite a trying experience for me.

I will definitely miss my wonderful family, my dear friends as well as the glorious food. There is definitely no other place in the whole wide world that I'd rather be right now, than back home with my Mummy, Daddy, beautiful sisters and darling brother...or with my friends at the mamak nearby to eat some roti pisang with teh tarik for sahur. Home is defintely where the heart is for me right now...

'Happy Berposa' everyone and Salam Ramadhan Mubarak from this Malaysian Minx in London.

**image taken from http://stuckincustoms.com/index.php

Food x Anak Bangsa Malaysia = Merdeka?

I was humming excitedly while thinking of how significant this years Merdeka celebrations would be for Malaysians around the world. It was only a day later, that we Malaysians in London got the chance to celebrate 50 years of Merdeka (Independence) at the Merdeka Carnival 2007 and here I was, as usual, in a frenzy looking for something to wear AND attempting to make it on time for the opening down on the premises of the Tun Abdul Razak Research Centre in Brickendonbury. By the time I put on my sexy black boots, and braved a horrific traffic jam, I finally arrived one hour twenty minutes after the opening ceremony. *sigh*

A buzz of activities welcomed me when I stepped onto the lush grounds of the Mansion and the familiar smell of satay wafted through the air. Great! It was bad enough that I could barely squeeze into my *oh so* short denim skirt, I was definitely going to pack on the pounds that fateful day. There were food stalls as far as the eye could see and I had already made a severe promise to myself that I would not settle my fluctuating weight problems by buying clothes a dress size bigger.

First stop - the keropok leko stall, second stop - the roti canai stall, third stop - the kuey teow stall…geez, I quickly caught myself from mentally listing the numerous never ending food stalls I wanted to raid, and started my slow crawl around this side of the lawn away from the sinful scrumptious stalls. I stumbled upon ONE souvenir stall selling merchandise (t-shirts, keychains, raya cards), the MAS stall, the Awana or was it the Holiday Inn stall which also sold the ‘magic’ karaoke microphone, durian ice cream *yummy* and some Malaysian fruits. There was the F1 stall and there was the Malaysian Spices and Herbs stall, which much to my delight, was full of Babas curry powder *woohoo*!

So, around 10 non-food stalls, the stage, a handful of LCD plasma screens, countless food stalls…and that ladies and gentlemen, was what summed up our Merdeka celebrations here in sunny London, hmmm, and I almost forgot, our beloved Jalur Gemilang waving proudly in the slight end-of-summer breeze.

To tell you the honest truth, when I had first arrived, my tummy had already cleverly negotiated with my brain and I was completely content with this whole Merdeka Carnival arrangement. I was literally blinded by the sight of glorious food and was going to sing praises of the food, I mean, merdeka celebrations in London.

Until, my friend’s son tugged on my skirt and *God have mercy on my red stilettos* asked me in his polished London accent, “Aunty, what is this whole Merdeka Carnival about? What is Merdeka?” I nearly choked on my jagung bakar. When did they start becoming so smart and ask mind-boggling questions like these. After five minutes of explaining, and realising that his completely blank look was NOT a look of quiet concentration, I pulled him to the nearest plasma screen where he could take a quick look at the short video made by the organisers about Merdeka. It was difficult to actually stand there and concentrate on what was being said ‘cos you had to literally strain your ears to hear anything. We both decidedly gave up, after his attention was diverted by the sight of his brothers jumping up and down on the bouncy castle nearby.

After being ditched by the young gentleman, I found a spot on the lawn and took a quick look at the souvenir programme. Apparently I hadn’t missed much of the opening ceremony, or what little there was of it. There was the raising of Jalur Gemilang, the official opening of the event, the PM’s recorded message then we had Fairuz Fauzy (the young F1 lad) giving a talk on his racing career. Hmm, I respect FF, but really, what did he actually have to do with the real meaning of Merdeka and why was he placed right after the PM’s recorded message?

The rest of the programme included a lion dance, a performance by a local English band, an ever present karaoke contest, a performance by a Malaysian group who is based in England, a sitar performance, as well as the usual raffle draw - but nothing extraordinary for such and auspicious occasion. The only highlight, if there was any, was Shahrizan belting out some soulful jazz numbers and oh yeah, of course the food.

Please, don’t get me wrong, the carnival wasn’t horrible it’s just that it kinda lacked substance. I mean this should have been a full fledged well thought out Merdeka Carnival that oozed semangat anak bangsa Malaysia (the true Malaysian spirit) and executed with the same precision as Blahnik put into the Masai,1997, but instead we were welcomed by a scene akin a mediocre hari kantin affair which you would commonly visit at a Malaysian high school.

Aiseyman, what happened? I mean, first of all, we’re celebrating 50 years of nationhood, I mean 50 years, not two, not ten but 50 years. Second of all, we’re celebrating this auspicious event here in London, the very country we sought independence from.

Is that what the organisers think Merdeka is? Was there not any other way to present our identity, not only to Malaysians living abroad but also the locals and other foreigners alike. Are we incapable of even conjuring a proper identity because we don’t have one? Or is it the incapability of our organisers to properly invoke something worthwhile? I really hope it’s not the latter cos I took a look at the committee list, and boy it was as neverending as the food stalls.

When asked why the days activities were lacking, a committee member replied, “The budget was only approved in July, so we couldn’t do much.” I was completely gobsmacked, it felt like a backhand slap to my hot pink lip glossed face. It sounded as lame an excuse as the infamous, “My dog ate my homework” line.

Whilst trying to recover from the nonchalant answer, I started hacking away at my Air Batu Campur (ABC) and found myself thinking, yet again, is this what the organisers think? Have we been whittled down to a food loving society that has nothing else to offer? I mean food is a great thing, and definitely a plus point in the Malaysian culture, but is that our best foot forward? Is that even the foot that we want to put forward? Aren’t the organisers proud of the Malaysian badge? Couldn’t they have put more thought into what it is to be an anak bangsa Malaysia? How and what it feels to celebrate 50 years of nationhood? Weren’t they enthusiastic to announce to everyone out there, where Malaysia is heading, our vision for the next 50 years? To share with the world who Malaysia is and above all, who her people are?

Or is it because, our organisers themselves don’t have a slingback shoe idea of what should be shouted out to the world?

As I came to the last bits of my ABC, my mind thought about our dear Tunku Abdul Rahman. I thought about how excited he must’ve been when he first proclaimed Merdeka at Dataran Merdeka all those years ago. Isn’t it a shame that not all of us feel the same way? I hope that sometime in the near future, this semangat Malaysia will be reignited with the same passion that he announced those magical words, “Merdeka! Merdeka! Merdeka!”

Selamat Merdeka Malaysia – all my love - anak bangsa Malaysia!

Alter ipse amicus - a friend is another self

I sit slumped in my room and take a long look at my black and silver pumps and try to figure out just what outfit I should wear them with, god how I wish my cluster of close munchkins were here with me. It’s pretty lonely at times here in rainy London. I mean I have made as well as rekindled friendships here, but at times, especially when my London friends have their own things to do and priorities to attend to, I miss my shoe shopping family and friends a whole lot more than I’m sometimes willing to admit.

I mean, there is nobody to call at a whims notice and go grab a teh tarik and roti pisang at the nearest mamak with. There is no one to bitch about ‘oh the meaning of life’ with, to go ooh aaahing at the latest shoe shop in town with. There is no one to truly turn to, no one who knows my deepest fears, strengths and aspirations, who doesn’t mind hearing the same moans and groans yet whips up the same enthusiasm when I babble on about happy news I might have told one million and one times before. To parade around in new shoes as well as clothes that were just bought ten minutes before. No one to watch Sex and the City reruns with…No one who gives me the same sense of peace I get just by being in their presence.

I miss my family and friends more than anything in the world and would like to dedicate this long overdue personal shout out to those I do not show enough appreciation to.

Thank you from the bottom of my quirky lil heart to those who have incessantly held my hand through my tumultuous journey I call my life. Thank you for your strength, for your wise words, for your support and comfort, for the ear and shoulder that I may to an extent abused time after time, for your faith, for your generous altruistic selves, for being there for me - be it rain or shine, for never giving up on me and for making me believe that I shouldn’t give up on myself, for everything that you have given me, your time and patience, for just being there for me. Thank you for allowing me in your life and for giving me that opportunity to be who I am with you, thank you for bringing out the best and worst in me, yet giving me the same space and non judgemental nudge I need through the ups and downs of my life.

There are a lot of choices that I have made that are completely ludicrous, yet thanks to all of you, there aren’t any that I truly regret! I am what I am because of what I have gone through and because of the choices (be they bad or good) that I have made. With you guys by my side I know its inevitable that I make a million and one more either fantabulously great or undeniably excruciating wrong choices, but at least I know that I’ll have hands that are ever willing to accept me. Thank you all, thank you.

I love you guys more than anything in the world and hope you love me too!

A plea for special Malaysians

It was 15 years ago when we went to visit Mummy in the hospital after she had given birth to her fifth child and only son, my baby brother Idris. I remember how happy my parents were when we arrived that morning, but looking back I realise that there was a hint of concern in both my parents eyes. I later found out that Idris is Down Syndrome and that the concern was because they were worried of how they were going to obtain the best education and access to the best facilities to raise my brother. Idris was also diagnosed as deaf and he also contracted meningitis when he was in the hospital. The doctors gave him two years to live, Alhamdulillah, he has now surpassed that age seven folds over.

There were many, many hurdles along the way and as clichéd as this sounds, my parents could possibly be the best set of parents any child could have, they are patient, strong and completely selfless in raising Idris, yet have never neglected any one of their other four daughters. They are determined to give Idris what he deserves and the best that they can afford, whether it be access to facilities for special children or even attention, support and the love that he needs, and their efforts have never faltered even to this day.

Now, years on, apart from being the love of my life, this young man has been a silent teacher, never intrusive, always present, he has taught me what unconditional love is; he has taught me that people are oblivious to those less fortunate unless it hits closer to home; he has taught me about hypocritical people and how shallow some people can be; he has taught me how important education is in heightening awareness about special children so that, as sad and terrible as this sounds, they are not ostracised by society; he has taught me that some people are completely ungrateful with what they have and should count their blessings more than their misfortunes; he made me realise that he is a very much cherished gift and how lucky we are to have him in our lives.

I know many of you have read so many other stories before this and there are only so many words to describe how truly special my brother is. Idris does not ask for much, but he generously gives so much in return. His smile is worth a thousand calm mornings and when he hugs you, you do get the feeling that you’re the most important person in the world. Don’t get me wrong, my baby brother can be naughty at times and will give you the occasional headache, but I wouldn’t trade anything in the world for the times that he gives me those little bouts of dizziness.

I am grateful and very proud that he is in my life and that same adulation, as well as appreciation is also reserved for my beloved parents and my darling sisters.

I know I have rattled on a tad more than I should, but another reason why I am writing this post is so that I can express how I feel about the lack of education and facilities for special children that are available in Malaysia.

It saddens me to think back on what facilities and education were available for special children, and I’m quite sure that it hasn’t changed much. Idris went to the Kiwanis Down Syndrome Centre, but after the early intervention programme they teach the kids, parents are pretty much alone in finding their next source of educating their children. I do know that there aren’t any free secondary special schools for Down Syndrome kids. Special kids are placed in a ‘special class’ at ‘normal’ schools, but it is a known fact that the teachers are not properly well equipped to teach these special kids and more often then not the kids are pretty much left to their own devices, whereas they need constant attention and coaching. Parents do get frustrated after a while and these special kids don’t really learn anything new or useful. In the end, parents do not think it is worth the time to attend such classes. I do know of one school that caters to older special children but there is a massive fee and many parents can’t afford to fork out an exorbitant amount of money.

Ever since I’ve been here in rainy London, I’ve looked around and realised that there are many things that we can learn from the English. Special kids have free special schools, there are specially educated teachers who know how to meet the varying needs of special children and how to address various situations involving these very special individuals. Parents are provided with a carer and some allowance as the British government recognises and acknowledges that these children need extra attention and that parents need to dedicate a large part of their time and energy on them. There are better resources on literature regarding special children, as well as a better support network for families with special children.

I am not asking for a miracle and that we follow every single thing that the Brits have done, but I plead that the Malaysian government look into this with a new magnifying glass, make changes and implement some plans in the near future. I plead that they make facilities and resources more accessible, to extend and share monetary funds to support the building of new centres as well as the education of teachers, and help families who may need assistance. I plead that they heighten awareness by educating the Malaysian public about the needs of special children and how best we can accommodate them and their families.

Many people want a Malaysia that embraces diversity, let it not stop short from embracing special Malaysians, I believe they have as much right as the next Malaysian to become part of Bangsa Malaysia. I hope people will hear this small voice of mine and hope that changes will be made sooner rather than later. I do not want to dream of a better Malaysia, I want to live it and I am more than willing to help make that change if I have to.

Takpela, biasala tu (It's okla, that's normal) *sigh*

I was really glad to find out that my friend decided to do her brief university internship in Malaysia. Despite being born and bred here in rainy England, she is a true blue Malaysian at heart. Smart, well brought up and loyal to her roots, she’d get as upset as a deprived shopper on the last day of a sale, if people degraded Malaysia or even any of its happy citizens.

So, imagine my dismay when I found out just what had happened to her. She did her internship at a local production house, which I must say is quite well known and established. Unfortunately for her, the men who worked with her didn’t quite live up to the same esteemed reputation the company had. They constantly harassed her with lewd comments and startlingly rude one-liners. When I heard some of the things hurled her way, my tired and overworked panda eyes nearly popped out.

Yet there was more to come, she reported the dreadful incidents to her lady producer to which she got the simple reply of, ‘Takpela, biasala tu, akak kena lagi teruk dulu (read: Its okla, it’s normal, I was harassed even worse before this).

I nearly fainted, even the thought of my recently bought white sequined shoes didn’t help calm me down.

This isn’t the first time I’ve heard this type of treatment and I bet its not an exclusive incident experienced by my poor friend, I can bet my favourite pair of tan coloured peep toed shoes that many others have their own uncomfortable tales to tell.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not being a feminist, its just that I realise that this ‘takpela, biasala tu,’ answer has become a household catch phrase. It is nearly as popular as Paris Hilton’s “That’s Hot!”

My actual question would be, have Malaysians become a takpe society? Here are my own embarrassing tales, please read the takpe, biasala tu, with the tone of a dead bored person and roll your eyes as if you don’t have a care in the world:

Oh, the policeman stopped me to get my number. Takpela, biasala tu.

Oh the bank can’t help you to expedite the process. Takpela, biasala tu.

Oh the bus is late. Takpela, biasala tu.

Oh the taxi driver hiked up his taxi fare and didn't follow the meter. Takpela, biasala tu.

Oh you have to pay RM30 to the person at the front desk for them to hasten your application. Takpela, biasala tu.

Malaysians like to gossip. Takpela, biasala tu.

Malaysians are all talk but don’t do anything about everything. Takpela, biasala tu.

Is it takpe to be a takpe society. Is this what we want for ourselves and for the future generation? Don’t we want to be a progressive society? To be on our toes and to consistently find ways to move forward, to embrace change, not to be content with the negative habits incorporated for so long? Let us sit and ponder what can and should be changed. We are after all celebrating our 50th year of independence, change is after all inevitable, lets make it positive change.

I mean its takpe to be a Malaysian, in fact I love it, its just that it would be takpe to progress rite?

Takpela, am already tired just talking about it.

IC or maybe I don't..

'Sorry maam, but unfortunately we aren't able to process your application,' the lady named Kerry told me. I was exasperated and glanced at my colleague Anne. This was the second time we had been there and I was just about ready to give up.

'But I brought everything that you asked me to bring - my passport, my driving license and letter of appointment from my company,' I pleaded her.

'I'm really sorry but we can't do it this time around. Your renewed licence is just a card which states your name and license number, there isn't an address and also there isn't any picture. We can't accept this. I really apologise for all the running around that you have had to do. Lets cross our fingers and hope that your utility bill from Malaysia comes soon. I know this is just so silly, we're getting business from you but we're giving you so much trouble,' she said apologetically.

Three weeks later my utility bills from Malaysia arrived. Third times a charmer, they say and thank god, this time around I finally got my English bank account. Phew! Blimey, it was a lot of waiting and a whole load of patience from my side (Anne, thanks for driving me all three times. I hadn't bought Ciku *teehehe* - read my cute lil car at that time).

Don't get me wrong, I'm fully aware of the security measures a bank has to take to approve and set up a bank account as I used to work in a bank back in Malaysia. What I was quite flabbergasted about was the fact that a) our Identification Card (IC) and b) our driving license were not accepted by the authorities in sunny England.

Ok, I kinda understand the reason why they rejected my driving license. I had just renewed it and was given this card to accompany my original license, which as Kerry had explained to me was minus my pic and addie. It could've have been something I just whipped up at my office whilst nibbling on a home made curry puff.

On the other hand, the fact that the Malaysian IC was not accepted by UK authorities was completely beyond me. Our IC has the smart chip thingy which has all our personal details for shoes sakes, including our license. I just don't get it. Geez, it even has our friggin 'touch n go' details on it. I mean it was a hassle for me , and I bet a whole load of other people before me as well. I mean imagine having to carry cash around with you for six weeks, mind you it was the only stash that I had, so my nervousa brainia was constantly on a high during those weeks. Thank god, I have relatives and friends living here, if anything would've happened to me (touch wood!) I would have still been able to survive, but imagine all those who might have come under the same visa as me and might have ventured here all by their lonesome, I really don't think it would've been a great starting experience in the UK.

Before I ramble on, apologies for my blatant ignorance, I bet Malaysia's darling government officials are doing something about this simple matter, I mean why wouldn't they help their fellow Malaysians and make their life a lot more easier, erm especially in the UK. Come on people, tell me, don't you think that it defeats the purpose of having an IC if its not even recognised? Aren't you guys working hand in hand with HRMs government to make things a tad easier for those living here? It makes as little sense as putting Jimmy Choo and selipar Jepun on the same shelf, if you're not.

But thats just me, as I said, rambling on something that, maybe, is being figured out. I just hope that it happens sooner rather later. I still love my Malaysia and also sunny England. I just hope that someone reads this and realises that it doesn't take blood, sweat and tears to make this small thing possible. First start with sunny England then move on to the world, k'mon fellow Malaysians we can do it..!

Anyways, I'm all excited about the Merdeka Carnival that they're having on TARRC grounds on 1 September. Will tell you all about it. I really hope its not as disappointing as the Malaysia Week they had at Covent Garden a couple of months back. Now that, was REALLY something that truly disappointed me. I know, I know, I sound like a drama queen, but I really thought we could've done 10 million times better than what was pulled off there. I bumped into the Director of Tourism and told him how much negative feedback I received, and believe me he wasn't too happy with my comments. Thing is, the whole Malaysia Week is a fantastic idea, BUT, I know we Malaysians are capable of producing better quality presentation as well as products. *sigh* In short, the way it was presented, and I quote from one of my Mat Salleh friends, 'It made Malaysia look like a third world country.'

I wear my Malaysian badge with as much pride as I wear my bling shoes, but I was rather upset with the whole thing and obviously with that comment. I know we're capable of doing a lot more, I've worked with the guys at Tourism Malaysia and they were a bunch of VERY efficient and bersemangat people, really I mean that, but I won't get into this whole issue this time around, cos that's another story, ain't it?

Ab hinc - from here on...

It has been exactly three months and 15 days since I first arrived here in sunny England. The weather has been as temperamental as moi during my loopy emotional sessions a.k.a the much dreaded ‘time of the month’ hormonal circus better known as PMS. Can’t complain much though, we just had a very sunny weekend and I had a load of fun being trigger happy in front of the National Art Gallery at Trafalgar Square, with half a million other strangers. It was SO friggin HOT, plus the fact that I had to trek an additional two miles just because someone gave me the wrong directions! I went full circle to find out that it was just two metres away from where I initially took off. But on the other hand, I’ve found someone who is more clueless with directions than me, and I never thought that was possible!

Ashamedly, its taken me this long to actually do the whole tourist thing and take pictures of places I’ve been to and places I’m planning to visit, only because I’ve had to do a lot of other things and have had to keep myself sane. I’ve had to deal with moving into a completely different country, work environment, place to stay, new hangouts, new routines, all this minus my most precious assets – my family and friends. It has been hell at times, but eventful at most, and geez, if I live through this, I can most definitely live through most anything.

I have to admit, I am proud of myself. I have been able to buy myself a laptop, a car, a handphone, a digital camera and erm…a couple of pairs of shoes. Hah! All in three months, and without involving any plastic, except for my debit card, which basically deducts straight from my current account, so I don’t owe anyone, woohoo! Next on my list is an exercise machine and French classes. I’ve also learnt (and am continuing to learn) how to make banana cake, scones, fruit cake, pavlova and novelty cakes. Plus, I have to say that my cooking has gone up a notch as I’ve been slaving in front of the kitchen a lot lately. My poor uncle is my guinea pig. Poor man! Sometimes I drag his kids in as well. They’re all just too polite to admit if it tastes nasty. Well, they’re all alive and kicking, so it can’t be that bad…I guess.

All in all, it has been a great three months and I am quite determined that it continues to be as fantabulous come the next two years. It took me a great leap of faith and a truckful of guts, support from family and friends and belief in myself to make my way here. Thing is, I’m glad I made my dreams of travelling a reality, I know I’ll pause to recollect my thoughts every now and then, cast a weary backwards glance at times and continue to step cautiously towards the future, but I’m gonna enjoy every small thing that life has to give me and charge on with my renewed found passion, cos hey, breiviore saltare cum deformibus viris est vita!