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!
Wednesday 22 August 2007
Tuesday 21 August 2007
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.
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.
Tuesday 14 August 2007
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.
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.
Sunday 12 August 2007
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?
Tuesday 7 August 2007
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!
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!
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