Lessons of 2008

In about one hour's time, the curtain will come down on 2008. As the new year looms very close, I am inadvertently reminded that I will be adding another year to my age.

With it will come out sprouting more strands of silver hair and cracking more fine lines under my eyes. My husband and I often wonder from where we had summoned the energy to walk all over the places in the sweltering heat of KL in our '20s. I chalk it up mainly to our higher metabolism and wide-eyed enthusiasm. I don't even think I sweat in those days; nowadays I sweat buckets!

Lack of personal transport, we often relied on the Kommuter, taxis and the LRT to bring us to places of interest, usually mall-oriented. Now, we can't imagine how we would survive without a car. Especially with a restless toddler in tow.

So what has happened in a year?

There were several events that had caused me to reflect and reassess some long-term goals. And there were the vacations that soothed the nerves and salved the soul. Oh yeah, how can I forget - the news of me expecting again was the icing on the cake of a very interesting year.

Most of all, there were the lessons that had come to pass. Here they are:

(1) After reaching a certain age, some people are so entrenched in their thinking, attitude and beliefs that it defies any sort of reasoning to change them.

(2) Never ever take for granted the kindness of others. What goes around comes around.

(3) People surprise you when you least expect it. They can turn out to be nicer than you have otherwise preconceived.

(4) Friendships come in the unexpected forms and shapes. They're your picker-upper in life.

(5) Sometimes friends disappoint you when you expect a bigger mileage than they could be able to muster, but you learn to let go and cut them some slack.

(6) No matter how rough things get with your siblings, you learn to forgive them. Blood is indeed thicker than water.

(7) Never boast or swagger your so-called talent, physical attributes, mental dexterity and so on. It can be taken away from you, in ways unimaginable.

(8) Try developing a keen foresight to differentiate those who genuinely want to befriend you and those who are eager to discover your Achilles Heel.

(9) Sometimes it's better to shut your mouth than to start another round of petty argument.

(10) A hug from loved ones - toddler included - does a world of wonders.

It's almost midnight, so I bid you a beautiful 2009 ahead and may the year's lessons bring with us more courage, wisdom and happiness. Grey hair, wrinkles and all.

Village Memoir

Pseudo-Kelantanese. If you look under my profile description, you will see the abovementioned word which I had selected to address my father. Some might even wonder as to why I had used the word pseudo.

Well, the reason can be traced back to this snippet of history. My dad's family had settled in the topmost part of Terengganu that borders the state of Kelantan. Kuala Besut is the proud name. It is inextricably linked to another small town called Jerteh.

Growing up, I was baffled by my dad's native tongue of Kelantanese whereas he is a fellow Terengganuan by birth. I have forgotten who had narrated me the story, but the person essentially concluded that Kuala Besut was once under the rule of a Kelantanese sultanate. However, as part of a war concession, the Besut area was handed over to the Terengganu ruler at the time.

As a gullible kid, I was wholly convinced this was the gospel truth as it conveniently explained why my father's family speak Kelantanese. For all I know, it could be due solely to its close proximity to Kelantan which naturally led to intermarriages among these folks as a result of extensive trade and travel. Whatever the truth is, I have labelled my dad as such, as exemplified by their unique bilingual existence in Kuala Terengganu.

As expected in those 'prosperous' days, my father lived with nine other siblings and his parents within the confines of a small wooden house. There were each five boys and girls. Dad was number seven. The lucky seven who was the first in the family to enroll into the elite boy school at Kuala Kangsar.

In the '40s and '50s, life was hard for the Kampung folks in the backwater of Terengganu and Kelantan. My father recounted many times how they ate rice mixed with coarse salt which had been fried on the open fire. Sometimes, they even had to do without rice and survived on tapioca as a daily staple.

This agrarian, hand-to-mouth kind of living compelled my dad to strive harder for a better life for him and his family. After coming into money, he initiated a renovation plan for his childhood home and even extended the length of the house. The refurbishment included running water in the house as opposed to constantly relying on the well for cooking, washing and bathing. At one point, he even put the Astro cable channel in the house which unfortunately attracted some unwanted freeloaders into the domain.

My memory of the idyllic Kampung remains sketchy at best, in the form of grainy snapshots of my annual, if not biannual, visits to the East Coast. One visit that forever stands out in my head is the school holiday during which all of Tok's (Tok is my paternal grandmother) children (save for the youngest one studying in the UK) congregated with their families back home and we spent the next few days getting in each other's hair, so to speak. The reunion cum vacation culminated in a road trip to the nearest beach - about an hour's drive in those days - for a picnic and fun in the sun. No older than nine years old, I remember being so happy, surrounded by and played with many cousins from near and far.

Other unforgettable moments include the times when leeches clung to my legs, tiptoeing to the toilet area in the middle of the night lest I would bump into something slithery, adjusting to the cold yet refreshing water of the well, taking turns with my sisters cycling the neighbour's becha (trishaw) and the seemingly endless supply of pulut lepa, nasi dagang and laksam for breakfast.

Save for his youngest sister, my father was not particularly close to his string of siblings, due either to the age gap or diverging interests and priorities in life. By the time he went to the residential school, most of his older siblings were already married and having kids. The time spent in a boarding school and later to New Zealand for his tertiary studies only further drifted him apart from his siblings.

Except for the occasional stays by some cousins at our home during the school holidays, I am afraid I have not formed a lasting bond with any of them. The simple pleasures of our childhood were replaced with adolescent pangs and academic pursuits. Later on, some misunderstanding and mistreatment had persuaded me to evaluate the durability of some paternal relations. In a way, our weak friendships inevitably follow the same path as my dad's.

Coupled with the fact that people generally understand Bahasa Malaysia (the medium of language used in schools) and the infrequent visits up north, I am not able to converse in Kelantanese as well as one would hope for. I never have the motivation, nor the proper agenda to proceed with. My mother knows a smattering of Kelantanese after countless exposures to the family, especially during my dad's brief RTM attachment in Kota Bharu in the late '70s. I do recall the time when my elderly aunt - one of dad's sisters - and her daughter were joshing with my mother about the foreign quality of her Kelantanese. In other words, people can tell she is an outsider. Still, everyone admires her for the brave attempt and effort to learn. At least, that was the impression I had gotten.

After my grandmother's untimely demise in 1997, I had only gone back to Kampung twice - one for a Kenduri (Feast) in conjunction with Korban (the rites of slaughtering animals) during Eidul-Adha celebration and the other due to the sudden death of my aunt in Pasir Puteh. During this time, we also had to accompany our mom for a dialysis session in Besut Hospital. The absence of Tok, the pivotal figure and the 'glue' to whom everybody gravitates to, left a huge chasm in the already shaky familial bond. There were no more plans of a grand reunion now that she had passed away.

On a macabre note, eleven years after her passing, five of her children have joined her with the most recent one being her second oldest son - Ayah Ngah - during Raya this year. Now there remain only four of them, including my dad (the eldest son had passed away before Tok).

Eight years have gone since I last stepped foot on Jerteh soil. When my late uncle was around, he was the 'unofficial' caretaker of my Tok's house. I don't know what has since happened to the abode, or whether it is still standing at the same spot. Whatever fate that has befallen the place, my recollections of Kampung, however hazy, linger and would last me a lifetime.

A Day in the Life of a Twin

Na, Sadia and me in Borders' Starbucks, The Gardens, in late January this year

I will try to keep this one short and spare readers of a blow-by-blow account of my life. :) That's what happened when you're writing on the computer, instead of the paper, and in a rush to finish.


As wont, like an annual tradition, I would write a post with respect to my birthday and this year is no different. (However, this year I am a day late)

People always ask me about the special, almost magical properties of being part of a twin. "Are you guys telepathic?" is one of the frequently asked questions.

As much as I would like to believe that is the eerie case, I would have to say No. At least some of the time. On the other hand, there have been instances in which similar incidences happen to us. Once, when we were in Standard Five (that would be 11 years old to the uninitiated), the tiny eraser on the back of a mechanical pencil stuck inside one of my twin's nostrils. Luckily, my mother managed to fish the thing out of her crevice. Less than a week later, it was my turn to get the eraser into my nostril by accident and I had to be rushed to the clinic as the eraser had stubbornly lodged inside the hole!

Some skeptics might attribute this incident as our ploy to get our mom's attention, but believe me, shoving a teeny ball of eraser into one's nostril was not worth the risk. We were just a curious (and naughty) lot, my twin and I. We even let the kid from our nextdoor neighbour cut our hair once because we were playing barber. My mother went ballistic with the badly-shorn haircut and was more angry at the neighbour for letting her daughter clip our curly locks.

Numerous other cases point to this weird, double-trouble phenomenon such as our two forehead injuries and subsequent scars, the loss of handbags and other material goods, car accidents and so forth. Coincidence? I doubly hope so.

As for the persistently (if not downright grating) obvious question as to how it feels to be a twin, honestly speaking, I do not know how to answer that one. Having lived XX years of my life as a twin, I lack the experience that goes with the territory of being a 'single unit'. People tend to compare us on every imaginable level - I guess it is part of human nature to respond accordingly when they find something remotely identical. I liken it to a game of 'Spot the difference' between two deceivingly similar pictures.

Initially, I confess that I have resented the comparisons being made either in an outward fashion or inwardly in their head. Therein lies the fervent wish to become a so-called 'individual'. However, forgetting that every aspect of our lives is up for comparison - siblings, friends, colleagues, material possessions, etc - I changed my mind.

I decided, let them compare. I am my own person. Love me or hate me, purely based on this alone. You don't owe me anything just because you know my twin sister. And vice-versa. Yet, common decency dictates that some civility shall prevail, whether or not you like the other half.

I once gave a rare, unexpected answer to the inevitable question, "It must be nice to have a twin, right?" I intoned "Yes, especially if you don't like the person, you can pretend to be the other twin." That shut his trap for good. You wouldn't expect that kind of answer from my twin though - I'd say she's more diplomatic dealing with people in general. At least, those outside the family. Haha.

As for me, I had to brush up on my people skills. Fortunately, aging and marriage have taught me a thing or two about tact and niceties.

Admittedly, being competitive by nature (there I have said it!) has relegated making comparison with my twin sister a second nature. It can be done outrightly or subconsciously, but the sad truth is it would not take me anywhere. This line of thinking will only weigh me down.

I am glad that I have since taken the high road and cast the insecurities away. Cliche as it may sound, I have realised that I must be happy with who I am and stop benchmarking myself to others. Sure, I might relapse some time, but as long as I don't dwell in the abyss, I will be mighty fine.

Back to the eerie front, both my twin and I were sick on our birthday yesterday - alright, you can blame it on the cold season - and unbeknownst to us, wanted to eat at Victoria Station for our special day. Never underestimate the telepathic twin powers! *Cue Twilight Zone music*

Break Away!

(Written on Wednesday, here and there)

A line of leafy trees and a secondary line of coconut trees obscure the view from my hotel's expansive window, enveloping me in safety against the prying eyes of stragglers or field workers below. It is, however, a different scenario altogether during the night and I must draw the heavy curtains together in order to preserve the sanctity of my cocoon, not to mention sparing passersby of an unflattering silhouette!

I have dwelled in this old (classic, if you may) hotel with an extensive golf course for the past four days and it is a welcome respite from the familiarity of home as I am the sort of person who loves a change in scenery once in a while. Though the comforts of a house are uppermost in mind, I am not exclusively a homebody and the wanderlust in me is always ready for an adventure. So when hubby told me of his corporate workshop, I jumped at the opportunity to leave the house. Sadia was also excited at the prospect of staying at a hotel and swimming in the pool. But, I could tell she was not prepared to have her dad away in the bargain.

Time had seemed to pass by quickly on Monday as I ran errands with my mother and Sadia. First, it was the pick-up at the hospital for which I was late since Sadia and I were frolicking in the pool when the incessant buzzing of the phone alerted me to a string of missed calls. She had completed her dialysis earlier than expected and I was nowhere prepared to rush to the hospital when Sadia had yet to be bathed and fed some food. I had only managed to arrive at SJMC at 2 pm, two hours after her session ended. I told my mom to let me know much earlier her estimated completion time lest a similar thing happened again (usually she finishes around 1 pm).

En route to Kota Damansara home, we dropped by the McD drive-thru (again? Bleargh!) on the NKVE highway for my quick bite. As predicted, the previously sleepy-eyed Sadia was wide awake upon seeing her cousins (my two sisters send their kids and maids to my mom's place during the weekday and my eldest sister's family was also there for the school holidays). So you can imagine the pandemonium that ensued in a house full of children.

Around 6 pm, I left the house with my mom and Sadia for Ikano Power Centre to buy some groceries and other essentials for the hotel stay. As Sadia fell asleep on the way there, we took the opportunity to indulge in some 'Rojak Buah' and dinner at Dome. After Sadia woke up from her kip, she demanded that we bought her an ice-cream cone before going home. With the legendary traffic on Persiaran Surian, we only entered the driveway at 9 pm - three hours after we left the house!

By the time I got to the hotel, it was already 9:30 pm and boy, was I knackered! Sadia wanted to see her PlayhouseDisney channel so badly that she asked me to open the website and we briefly played some games before Sadia got agitated with the slow Internet connection. I heaved a huge sigh of relief when hubby came back one hour after we came to the room.

My Monday was also aggravated by a wiggly tooth which moved back and forth whenever my tongue came into contact with it. The tooth - well, a remnant of a tooth, the last remaining wall of a molar on my left side - came loose sometime after we finished swimming. It was such a nuisance that I would find food to be unpalatable once it hit the tooth. When we fell asleep at night, I kept waking up from the tooth pain and decided to wriggle it bit by bit. After twice being awakened from my slumber, the tooth finally came off. Thankfully with only little blood. But a piece is still stuck at the base of the molar and I am contemplating if I should get it pull out. I had called the gynae earlier today for consultation, but he was on leave. Only tomorrow I would know if it is safe to extract.

Tuesday saw me lounging primarily at the hotel and enjoying the amenities (read: room service, bed and internet) to the max. Sadia refused to go swimming after she scraped one side of her leg on my parents' gravel driveway on Monday. We spent the time watching cartoon VCDs on her portable multi-player tv and looking at PlayhouseDisney website. Oh yeah, both Sadia and I were not feeling well on Tuesday, with Sadia being antsy and weepy towards the afternoon. I got some reprieve when she napped earlier AND longer than usual.

Apart from the sniffles, I think she misses her routine back home, having her favourite shows on at all hours and lounging with her OTHER customary toys. On the other hand, I immensely enjoy taking our stroll together after breakfast around the hotel's lush compound, alternately walking hand in hand and carrying her. Sadia became surprisingly quiet and well-behaved during these walks, unlike the rambunctious and hyper kid that she usually is. This was reminiscent of the Holland/Paris days when I lugged her around in the baby carrier while hubby attended classes. Those simpler, uncomplicated days.

I only drove out with Sadia later in the evening to check out what Ara Damansara has to offer and got lost as a result. Luckily, I succeeded in retracing my way back and arrive in the hotel to pick hubby up for a quiet dinner in Subang. We even went grocery shopping again. Since hubby had another session beginning at 9 pm, we were back in the room 15 minutes before. However, as it turned out, everyone else in the group was still busy eating and whiling the time away!

With check-out time at 2 pm on Wednesday, hubby helped put the baggage and other loose items in the car, and Sadia and I whizzed away to Kota Damansara to play (that's Sadia) and rest (that's me) before picking him up at the hotel in the evening. With the exhausted Sadia throwing one of her tantrums again shortly before leaving to get hubby, I had to rely on mini M&Ms to pacify her during the ride. Sadia slept shortly after hubby took rein of the wheel and we stopped at a KFC drive-thru on the highway since hubby had not had lunch. We later got our dinner - my sambal ikan kembung! - at a 'warung' in Bandar Baru Ampang before heading to the apartment.

At long last, we entered the house around 7 pm and were glad to see the familiar sights. Refreshed from her nap, Sadia rushed to the tv with PlayhouseDisney channel on default setting and parked herself there for most of the night. Ahhh, back to your normal programming.

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For a lark, here's my result for the Celebrity Look-Alike, inspired after Kak Teh's own. Please note that it is Roseanne Barr AFTER her multiply surgeries and not BEFORE. Haha. And how come do I get all these obscure Asian personalities, unlike some other people with Hollywood lookalikes? Do I look more Oriental than the average Malaysians? The mind boggles.



Please go here to get yours.

Pregnancy Journal 1

According to the gynae and if the calculation is correct, I should be in my 12 weeks this week. My stomach has ballooned to a noticeable bump and caused most of my current pair of pants to stay on the racks. I am lucky to have sisters - three of them - , who have accumulated an array of maternity wardrobe between them, to borrow from.

I have seen my gynae twice ever since I got the referral letter from the neighbourhood clinic. Both encounters have so far been pleasant aside from the very long wait (two hours!) to go into his office. You see, my ever popular gynae, takes emergency cases first and this pushes forward other patients who are civilised (or clueless?) enough to sign on the appointment list. The first time where I couldn't get an appointment due to the long waiting list and had to wait for a free slot - two hours plus - was forgivable, but the second time - on an appointment - was something I had to get used to. It was exasperating to say the least. I didn't have to go through such a long haul with the first gynae.

I changed gynae from the previous one because I find my personality conflicted with that of the latter. Although I have to wait for this new gynae - hopefully subsequent visits would get better, time-wise but I wouldn't bet on it - I am glad this gynae is more patient and jovial than the other one. Each to his own, I believe.

My bouts of nausea - without vomitting - have so far tapered off with a lingering fatigue usually in either late afternoon or evening. Headaches are the order of the day as I have trouble falling asleep every so often due to frequent trips to the toilet late in the night. I am also extra klutzy nowadays and have become more forgetful. Recently, I lost my house keys as I could not at all recall the last time I saw them.

As far as cravings go, my recurring favourite, for some strange reason, is sambal ikan kembung (mackerel). I must have it every day if I could. Alas, it narrows down to once a week. Ironically, my first culinary love, chicken has reverted to a puppy-love state as I halfheartedly eat my way through most poultry dishes. I cannot even stomach the good old-fashioned, greasy fried chicken that I am so crazy about! My husband quipped that I am fowl-averse for this pregnancy as opposed to being coffee-averse (I couldn't even smell the blasted thing) during the first time.

Already ticked off my craving list are DELIcious creamy carrot cake, baked potatoes, Chillis Nachos and Triple Play and bubur kacang (mung bean dessert). I have yet to get my hot piping banana fritters (pisang goreng). You know the traditional crispy ones dipped in a mixture of air kapur (limewater) and flour batter.

The euphoria of having a child the second time around might not match the experience one gets the first time, but I still become teary-eyed whenever I see the lil one and his or her corresponding heartbeat on the nifty ultrasound. I feel truly blessed with His munificence.

Sadia, a few hours old

The worrywart that I am, I am concerned about the dynamic of my relationship with Sadia once another baby enters the picture. She now knows there is a baby in mommy's tummy and at one point screamed at my stomach "Hello, anybody in there?!" I also notice she has grown more attached to her 'baby doll' named Caroline (or Caroleen in French since we got it as a Christmas present from the French hotel we stayed in during hubby's two-week course) and always insists on bringing it everywhere. Sometimes she feeds her the toy bottle and even talks to her. Is it her way of getting used to a sibling, I wonder?

With Caroleen in Kampung Bahru during the recent Raya Haji

That aside, my husband and I agree that time flies so fast this time around. After December, it will be six more months until the stork comes for a visit. God willing. Until then, we will be making some changes on the domestic front - physically and emotionally.


(From onwards, this journal will be posted on as-and-when basis)