Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Soiree for Sadia's Second


Her second birthday came and gone
She blew her candles as wont
Lovely cake and presents galore
Any girl couldn't ask for more

My cheeky girl is all grown up
Insist on drinking from a cup
Singing show tunes earnestly
If only she wakes up early

Tying her hair is now allowed
'To follow Elisa' we always prod
Slow and steady we choose to go
Don't make a fuss or else she'll blow!

She mimicks and repeats after us
So make sure you don't ever cuss
Expressive and loud she's full of it
Sweet things and toys the only treat

Two years has come to pass
Time does fly really fast
In no time she'll fly the coop
For now my Sadia is a hoot!



For an account of her second birthday, please hop here.

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Strong Favourites

Except for the whirring of ceiling fan, the growling of thunder outdoors, and my tapping on this keyboard, the bedroom is silent. My loved ones are sleeping soundly on the bed across from me with the laptop's ambient light being the only companion on this restless night.

Perhaps it's an overdose of caffeine as wont that shifted my mind into overdrive. Or is it my constant worrywart that derailed any chances of a good night sleep? Something's been bugging me and couldn't put my finger on it. It's probably nothing. Perchance, it's the onset of you-know-what.

Before this entry spirals into a woeful entry, I'd better get down to what I plan to write about. If ever this narcissistic post offends anyone, it's best for banality’s sake that you want to skip it.

It was my perceptive boyfriend-turn-husband who pointed this out to me: That I am a person who possesses distinctive list of strong favourites.

So what is the difference between Favourite and Strong Favourite, you may ask. Oh well, to keep it simple, I'll use food as a fine example. I like many types of food - I don't mind eating sushi; I'll eat Pesto Linguini since it's my husband's favourite; and I would eat Ikan Masak Lemak if a great hostess is serving it.

However, the diverse array of victuals which I could and would be seen digesting don't necessarily translate to the food I really, really love to dig into. In fact, they are quite few and far between.

My strong favourites are sambal udang petai, sambal sardin, beef pepperoni pizza, fried yellow mee (the basah type), ikan masak assam, curly fries, juicy beef burgers galore and of course, an assortment of fried (the key word here is FRIED) chickens.

Likewise, when it comes to ice cream, the ones I'm truly besotted with are Rocky Road, Mint Chocolate Chip and Hazelnut.

You could call it a Taste/Cultural Desensitisation if you like, but I believe it is attributed mostly to my own idiosyncrasy.

Growing up with NKOTB (that's New Kids on The Block to you younger folks :) ), I liked their songs and was completely sold on their image. But, while other nubile teenagers (my sisters included) gravitated towards the predictable heartthrobs like Jordan McKnight and that McIntyre boy (forgot his first name), I chose the least likeable guy on the band. I even forgot his name. I think it's Danny something. Even my twin sister went ga-ga over the more rebellious (read: interesting) one, Donny Wahlberg.

note: Google confirms that this Bostonian group comprises Jordan McKnight, Jonathan McKnight, Joey McIntyre, Donny Wahlberg and Danny Wood. Incidentally, they are reportedly in the midst of a comeback album!

Yup, I fell for the wooden (pun intended) expression of my strong favourite guy.

For some twisted reason, I have always shunned anything that feels or smells remotely mainstream. The Flava of the Month. The Obvious Choice. Blame it on my non-conformist streak if you must but something (or someone) that is popular by design and appeals to general public will usually* NOT get my vote of confidence. I’d naturally repel any advances from others goading me to join their blood-thirsty pack.

I call this aberrant behaviour The Underdog Complex.

Which clearly explains why I never caught on to the Harry Potter bug, nor was I particularly drawn to LOTR trilogy, be it in the literary form or film adaptation. On the other hand, there is always sheer laziness to bear the brunt of the problem.

In Freudian-speak, the primary reason for going against the grain perhaps lies in my adolescent hung-ups about being ‘less than popular’ and therefore favouring those perceived to be sharing the same plight. Again, emphasis is on the word ‘perceived.’

*Well, back to strong favourites, this quirky trait obviously contradicts the non-conformist rule as far as popular things are concerned. As such, herewith I apply a caveat : My strong favourites list trumps the selfless duty to champion the underdog category, on any given day. Sorry, but a girl has to yield to her passion.

Like Starbucksing, Mall-hopping, Zara-ing, SATCing, Blogging and lately, Facebooking.

Yes, I finally went to the dark side and joined BukuMuka. I don’t know what came over me when I filled in the data on FB’s first page. (At this point, my twin sister would be sneering somewhere in the background)

Curiosity got the best of me and I found myself having the urge to look for friends, old and new. Hah! I can’t understand it myself but this networking tool surely works in checking out these friends’ status – physically, metaphorically and social/financial mobility – and what they are currently up to.

Thanks to the bloggers who have ‘taken me in.’ Virtual friends like you are definitely a dime a dozen!

Now, where did I put that page-turner of a chick lit?

Sunday, February 17, 2008

Voting Power


Election fever is upon us again! It's not that far off in the future - March 8th to be exact - thus perfecting the art of persuasion to the masses is imperative for most demagogues.

Fawning and name-dropping are other forms of tactical moves to be expected during this electoral run-up. Not to mention, promises that are going to dazzle you to submission and most likely confound you later on with their incongruities.

So let's the emotive, sugarcoated speeches begin!

The last time Malaysia went to the voting booths was in 2004, March 21st. I had to look up the date on the Net but I remember it as vividly as yesterday since it was my first time ever going to the poll. And to make things more 'interesting', I went to my assigned poll station in Shah Alam - one of the civic halls near to my old house - with my twin sister who was heavily pregnant with her first baby at the time.

And solely based on the excuse that my sister was with child, the SPR people let us cut the long queue to cast our vote in a whiz! When we arrived at the front entrance of the hall to the quizzical looks of others, a microphone boomed out calling our respective IC numbers and simultaneously confirming our presence. Then, an official pointed us each to an unmarked voting booth. The moment I entered the small enclosure I took my sweet time making sure that I am ticking it the so-called 'ethically correct' way lest it would be marked as spoilt, by the keenest of critics.

It was surreal standing there in the deafening silence of your booth, feeling as if the weight of the world is on your shoulder.

Exiting the hall with my sister, I heaved a huge sigh of relief that my citizen duty was done and over with. And whichever the vote might sway, I was glad that I finally got the chance to make my vote, well, count. Literally and figuratively.

The SPR letter summoning me for this year's electoral process in Shah Alam came last week to our former home address. I honestly don't know why my constituency still resides in my old hometown. Do I need to fill an SPR form for a change of address to Ampang?

My eldest sister still lives at the family house though. Perhaps that IS the reason why?

Come March 8th, my husband most definitely will send me for this round of election since he has yet to register himself as a voter! The opportunity to register back in Kuching failed to materialise whenever we're home since it's either the Raya season or other public holidays. Frankly speaking, I don't think one is in the mood to seek out where to register when holidaymaking is the ONLY thing in one's mind! Luckily, Kuching has held its election two years back, which gives him some leeway to register for the next one and/or to file for a change of address.

As they are going to name the candidates this February 24th, I sincerely pray that my candidate of choice doesn't give me bad vibes. If not, I might likely be swinging my vote! Yes, it all comes down to the tried-and-true woman intuition. Haha!

Happy Voting Malaysia. May the electoral process go on without any hitches!

Thursday, February 14, 2008

Love Lost and Found


In accord with the Sarawakian Malay traditions, an engaged woman will receive, apart from dulangs (trays) bearing the customary personal grooming and traditional items, her sum in dowry and a sort of 'marriage contract' stating details on, amongst others, the agreed date and venue for the nuptials, maskahwin (dowry) to be given, and obviously the names of the future bride and groom. This long-held custom is in place to assist the woman's family in the wedding preparation and at the same time, signal the man's strong commitment to follow through with the marriage. However, one must bear in mind in these normal instances a short duration between the engagement and actual wedding exists, some even number in a week's worth of waiting!

So when I told my mother the circumstances in which an engagement with my Sarawakian would-be-husband would entail, she vociferously disagreed with the arrangement plainly because of the long period of engagement (we were engaged for about 11 months), and the early receipt of money which would cover some initial costs of my wedding. Mostly, it was due to the first reason. Although it is best to be optimistic when it comes to marriage, the truth of the matter is anything could take place in the interim with respect to my parents, his parents or us. It's better to err on the side of caution, rather than accept a wad of cash earlier on.

As a compromise, the fiancé's side came up with a scroll delineating the 'facts' related to the upcoming wedding, such as the number of dulangs and its contents, the engagement date and names involved, and, if my memory serves me well, the persons acting as witnesses of the ceremony. I still remember the date I became someone's fiancée mainly because it was the day (the late) Saddam Hussein was captured by Allied troops. What a way to jog them grey cells.

When I went over to Kuching for the groom's wedding ceremony, my husband and I willingly engaged in other local rites like mandi bunga and throwing something (I forgot what it was) over one of the bridges crossing the Sarawak River. Little did I know that my husband's culture is steeped in both traditions and superstitions, despite the 'betrothal contract' being a tell-tale indication.

Over the conjugal years, I've been privy to stories and folk tales that are out of this world, so to speak. In retrospect, these preternatural things would certainly have raised some flags on the back of my head if I were to know them before we got engaged. But were those enough to compel me to scuttle out of the relationship and never look back? Fortunately for me, I had known my husband for a long time for it to cause a dent or weaken our resolve to be together.

After all, ALL families have their own skeletons in the closet. Mine included.

But, having said that, it is a different story altogether when third parties interfere and nip in the bud a developing relationship. Particularly, in this specific case, if the third parties are the parents. What am I ranting about? Well, first things first, let's go to the bottom of things.

My only and youngest brother is in love. A new love interest after breaking off with his long-time girlfriend. The painful separation occured less than a year after he was diagnosed with kidney failure. The first dialysis session began sometime in May 2005. Citing parental objection over my brother's 'sickness', the ex-girlfriend gladly detached herself from the coupledom after nurturing it for two years. This situation is regretful since her parents had even visited us during both my and my sister's weddings, signalling fervent interest for a speedy union. How feelings automatically overturned upon discovering the severity of my brother's disease - that, outside of a possible transplant, he would be dependent on dialysis for a lifetime.

Back to the new girl, as expected from his personal preference, my brother chose a traditional lass from the East Coast. Traditional in the sense that she grew up in a Kampung setting, with an delectable dose of conservatism and demurenes thrown in. And better yet, with two differences this time. This one hails from Terengganu, unlike the last one from Kelantan. And this girl is of the same age as my brother (hopefully more matured) as compared to the ex who was three years younger.

As far as first impression goes, she looks like a nice girl - a bit of the tallish side - with a reserved air. Or, she was probably overwhelmed by the loud bunch that is my maternal relatives when my brother introduced her to us in Kampung Bharu for the first time. While the rate at which they are going is too fast in my humble estimation, I'm all supportive of his choice and decision for a hand in marriage.

Yet, history has a way of repeating itself, in the direst circumstances when her parents rejected him on the sole basis that he is a kidney patient. Whereas traditional values are lauded for their tenacious quality, it is one thing to hold ransom your own daughter's happiness by playing God to her preferred life partner. I am angry, my mother is emotionally-wrought and only God knows what's going through my brother's mind.

I am miffed because the risk of marrying a kidney patient is no more worse than getting hitched to some bloke on the police force, in the army or any Special Tactical Unit. Marriage is a Gamble. Period. How about those who are married and out of the blue, one of the partners is diagnosed with cancer or other terminal disease. Do you want your son or daughter to divorce his or her partner and break up the family just because the person is sick? What kind of person are you? Even an AIDS patient gets married.....

Granted, it is easier said than done since any parent always wants the best for their children. Especially so when your children are going to spend their lifetime with that special person. That's fine and good but what if you are ruining their only chance of real happiness by disapproving and interfering? Would you rather have your own flesh and blood hate you for the rest of your life on the argument that you know what's best for him or her?

This sad episode reminded me of someone, let's call her W, who badly wanted to marry to the man of her dreams, M, at the young age of 20. They had met while she was doing her internship on one of the islands up north. But her parents were strongly against the match because they wanted her to continue her studies first and the man is not on par, academically speaking, with their daughter. Ever since coming back to her family home, she has been crying and crying, keeping to herself and become a solemn figure in the household. She was thoroughly wretched that her mother always made sure that the keys were inside her bedroom at night lest she should decide to run away.

In the end, upon the advice of wise elders of the family, they decided to let her marry the love of her life. It's more logical to allow her to tie the knot than to face the grim consequences of her becoming a spinster, like a few others in the family circle who remained unmarried as their parents refused to acknowledge and receive their choice of a lifemate. How heartbroken they must have been.

In the case of my brother's girlfriend, the last thing I heard was that she was summoned to move back home by quitting her job. As a daughter, it's her obligation to obey her parents. But as a lover, she is very much smitten by my brother. Only time and usaha (or effort) will tell the outcome of this love affair. Both of them must be steadfast against the willful tide, faithfully waiting out the troubled water to recede into the horizon.

As for me, my inlaws initially had their misapprehension about their only DIL coming from, as it is popularly known, Malaya. However, through constant visits and amiable chats, we are slowly letting down our invisible barriers and embracing some (if not all) of our unique differences.

As my husband pointedly puts it, "It's me who's marrying you, not them." Gosh, you make me blush. :*>

Sunday, February 10, 2008

Kuching Fourth Day


We are waiting for our flight back to KL which is scheduled to depart at 8pm. It has been a relaxing 4-and-half days in Kuching, being doted and pampered, gastronomically speaking. Since our arrival Wednesday night, we have stuffed ourselves with a diverse array of culinary creations. My hubby was happy to eat food that's agreeable to his 'localised' palate, which, for a lack of better words, I am unable to replicate. Then again, feasting is always high on the agenda for when we come back home. Their hospitality is top notch.
Today, being the final day, was low-key following the aftermath of epicurean proportions. However, none of their usual homespun charms was in short supply.
We spent the day at home, vegging out, with Sadia and Zeti kept us in stitches with their antics.
Over all, this trip is a timely respite from our 'regular programming.'

Saturday, February 09, 2008

Kuching Third Day


It's an unusually cold morning in Kampung Gersit as the rain came down in the middle of the night and continued unabated until mid-morning. Some section of the kitchen got flooded as a result which put a temporary damper, so to speak, to the planned barbeque cum Sadia's early birthday celeb to be held that day.
By party time at 4 pm, the light breeze provided the early guests - all relatives invites - with a welcome distraction as others trickling in at a slow pace into the gathering.
Sadia, the birthday girl, was subsequently put down for a nap at 430pm. The Do finally got under way shortly before 5pm with a brief 'doa' being recited by FIL.
After an hour's worth of nap, we decided to bring Sadia down, much to her protest, to blow out the candles on her large birthday cake. She almost cried looking at the whole commotion and people she didn't know. But the two bright, flickering candles mollified her.
We got some presents in the form of clothes, and one long and vibrant caterpillar. Thanks people!
The grub comprising assam laksa, spaghetti bolognese, spicy fried rice, sausages and fish balls on skewers, and marinaded lamb and chicken, was a hit with the guests. I like the lamb especially. 
Thank goodness for my SIL, a chef-cum-restauranteur extraordinaire!

Friday, February 08, 2008

Kuching Second Day


We went to visit Adet's friend at her new house somewhere in Matang, which serves another purpose of checking out the house two doors down for Adet to buy.
Thereafter we headed to Satok to buy some durians and small, eensy weensy bananas which Sadia ate with gusto. All four of them. The bananas were dirt cheap to an urban dweller like me.
Back home, my MIL, Adet, hubby and I 'walloped' the 'fragrant' durians the Sarawakian way - tempering its potency by eating it with powdery sagun. Nice touch. Burp!
Off to another new mall, Boulevard, we went next. Unfortunately, we got lost for a long while at the Batu Tiga roundabout, opting to take two wrong outlets than the right one, just because it pointed towards Serian and Sibu.
We tried yet another Kopitiam place, Ipoh Town Kopitiam in Boulevard - a run-of-the-mill joint with a bitter aftertaste for White Coffee. After a relatively 'upscale' The Spring, I was disappointed with Boulevard's shoddy interiors and tacky decor.
In fact, we left for a more copacetic The Spring and had our dinner in Kenny Rogers and bought some grocery at Tai Kiong, the Kuching's answer to Cold Storage. Gotta rest my stomach now - for some reason, durian and white coffee don't agree with me!

Thursday, February 07, 2008

Kuching First Day


Here we are in Kuching's latest mall attraction, The Spring, drinking our usual Starbucks brew. This second Starbucks is situated at one of the entrance doors, in the vicinity of Secret Recipe and Kluang Station, Kuching's first. Actually, there are other many firsts in this suburban mall, such as L'occitane, FOS, MNG, MPH, Guess, Manhattan Fish Market, and Habib Jewel.
We haven't fully explored since Sadia is sleeping on my lap as I'm typing this on my phone. Also, most stores are close for CNY.
I'm enjoying my stay in Kuching more and more, hehe.
Mupok Dulok!

Monday, February 04, 2008

Windmills of my mind


It's like clockwork.

Whenever the rooster crows at the first light of day, my mind wanders back to a time in my childhood where my sisters and I would spend our school holidays in Kampung Bharu. Anyone who are close to the family knows that my maternal grandmother loves her flock of chickens so much, that she'd rather stay at home than taking a long trip somewhere for a bit of R&R.

Among others, the morning crowing reminds me of the method used by my grandma to wake us up sleepyheads, who were used to sleep in late at our own house on a non-school day and more so during the term holidays. I had always dreaded sleeping over at my grandma's for this sole reason - she would simultaneously switch on the lights and switch off the overhead fan while intoning the words (in Malay of course) that "An early riser catches the worm!"

In our zombie state, we dragged ourselves out of the mattresses laid out on the floor, splashed dibs of cold freezing water over our small bodies and obediently headed downstairs to eat breakfast. And for the rest of the day, we tried our best to get out of her hair!

For the life of me, I cannot recall where my parents went or what they were doing when they ferried us to our grandma's house for a few days. They must be using the time away from us as a breather to catch up with one another. That, or they were busy spring-cleaning the house in our absence.

Or probably it was a spur-of-the-moment decision to leave us with our Nenek since we were enjoying ourselves so much over there, despite her fastidious regime, and took it upon ourselves to stay the night.

You see, during this time, my sisters and I had become acquainted with the children of Nenek's neighbour, who was renting Nenek’s old house situated at the back of the current one. The three children - Wati, Arlen and Ira - fell easily into our siblings-only circle, for some inexplicable reasons. Perhaps, as children, we were not predisposed to judgment calls or petty squabbles compared to when we are adults.

From my belated recollection, they were the offspring of a recent immigrant couple from Sumatra. As a kid, further details as to how and why they moved to Malaysia were of no import. In my uncomplicated mind, "They came from Indonesia and they are nice people."

With Rafiz - another timid Malay boy living at the nearby flat - rounding up the gang, we played many children games together, mostly outdoors like Galah Panjang, Lompat Getah, Polis Entry (or is it Sentry?), and Pukul Berapa Datuk Harimau. When we got bored or the weather turned dreary, indoor games like Snap, Happy Family and Congkak became the obvious choices. At times, my younger cousin, Lindsey, joined us for a bit of fun too, as long as she could keep up with us, the older kids.

Even on the customary weekend's visit to my Nenek's - when we were still living in Shah Alam - we would seek them out to play by going over to their house. Their mom would always be ready to let us in, with a weary smile likely attributed from the seemingly unending household chores. I can still remember hearing the popular tunes of Endang S.Taurina and Hetty Koes Endang as I approached their frontdoor to invite them out to play. The black cassette player on top of the table in their quaint living room locked inside my memory to this very day.

As our friendship grew closer, they even came along for the compulsory second day of Raya visits to Kampung Subang, Kuala Selangor, Kapar and back to our house. The gales of laughter permeating the air as we ran across the lawn in Kapar and played Hide & Seek around the bungalow in Kuala Selangor, etched permanently in the deep recess of my mind ever willing for retrieval as and when I need to salve a wearied soul.

On the language front, my grandma, who possesses the knowledge of conversational Javanese, was able to communicate breezily with the parents while we equipped ourselves with an arsenal of ingenious schemes and persistent harassment with the kids. But seriously, I don't remember having any difficulties talking with Wati, Arlen or Ira. Ira, the shyest and youngest of them all, was initially wary of us but frequent playtime dissolved any lingering doubts of sincerity and fears of our 'alien' presence respectively.

When I turned 10 however, my father was transferred for work to Kuala Terengganu, and we had to move out of Shah Alam for the duration. It took sometime getting adjusted to another foreign language in Terengganu, but our close sibling bond assisted the process. As a result, we were only able to see Wati, Arlen and Ira during the school holidays or Raya. Unfortunately, the long distance and the pangs of growing up further drifted us apart.

Amusingly, I remember when my Nenek remarking that we shouldn’t play freely with the boys i.e., Arlen and Rafiz because we have grown up now so as to avoid unnecessary gossips and complaints from her well-meaning (read: nosy) neighbours. We were only 11-going-on-12 at the time and I found it incredulous that she could come to such a narrow conclusion. When we* eventually moved back to Shah Alam at the end of our Standard Five education (that’s 11-year-old), they had already made their own set of firm friends in Kampung Bharu. Wati, who was much older (probably two years senior) than us, had enrolled into the secondary school and indulged in different ‘interests’ from ours.

If I’m not mistaken, the whole family moved house to a place in Gombak or thereabouts at the time when we* entered Form One (that’s 13-year-old), thus abruptly ending the chapter on our childhood friendship. Even though there were times when they would subsequently come to Kampung Bharu for Raya, we often missed them due to the bad timing of our arrival.

Coming back from the States and working, I did receive two of their wedding invites from my grandma which, save for her and my uncle, went unattended because of my unforgivable preoccupation with a budding love life! The last time I saw one of them was in Ampang Point, two years ago and it was the petite Ira. While she looked older, she still retained that pair of cherubic cheeks and an affable disposition. I, on the other hand, was still dazed and exhausted from assuming the new role of a mother. As if an indication how things have changed, we exchanged a few inquiring words and turned awkward when we ran out of ideas.

It’s funny how a rooster crowing could trigger a deluge of wonderful memories. The outdoor and indoor games, the reverberating, sweet sound of laughter, the unaffected, happy period of my childhood, leave an indelible mark that I will cherish in this lifetime.

*We refers to Kak Long, Nina and me.
Comic taken from here.