The art of saying things indirectly

I have previously written about my interest in old Malay proverbs or peribahasa Melayu in a post last year. It takes a certain skill to know when a proverb can be aptly mentioned to apply to a particular situation. Sometimes the reader or listener may not actually know the meaning of the saying but when applied to the situation of the moment, the reason becomes clear by way of inference and comparison.

I still have not yet mastered such skill... and that is why I continue to read and re-read books by literary craftsmen on the subject. I am presently re-reading the first volume of Pepatah Petitih by Pak Sako. The book, first published in 1989, is a collection of articles written by Pak Sako for a local humour magazine called Gila-Gila. In his articles, the writer deftly explained the use various perumpamaan Melayu in different situations, one such common area of use is in satire. Since Malays have this habit of not being able to deliver criticisms directly, many proverbs came into existence to cover for the situation. Sometimes, a properly placed proverb carries more sting than the direct comment. Pukul anak sindir menantu.

The publisher of the magazine, Creative Enterprise saw it fit to publish the collection of articles in book form. The compilation comes in two volumes and I have both. The repeat reading of Volume 1 is now filling up my spare time during these days of wet rainy afternoons in November.

Pak Sako's real name is Ishak Haji Muhammad. He was born in Temerloh in 1909 and passed away on 7 November 1999, just one week short of his 82nd birthday. Reading through his writings, I am tempted to give my own twists to some of the old proverbs... especially those that apply to the present situation that I'm in. I'll start with the following :

Harimau mati meninggalkan belang,

Gajah mati meninggalkan tulang,

Manusia mati meninggalkan hutang...

That last line above is my own modification. The original ending to this pepatah Melayu is : `Manusia mati meninggalkan nama.' Well, if I were to die today, I doubt that I'll be leaving behind any name worth remembering.... tapi tinggalkan hutang tu memanglah banyak. Just a few minutes ago, I received a phone call from the credit card company, reminding me of overdue payment. Oh how I wish I can be debt-free. I guess it's time for me to change my spending habits. Besar periuk, besarlah keraknya...

Leyla or Karmila?

I have just finished reading my latest book last night. It is a Malay novel titled `Lentera Cinta Albaicin', written by a local writer who's new to the literary scene.

I don't read buku cerita Melayu that much, let alone romance novels, so there must be a very particular reason why I read this book... but I'll get to that point a little later. Of the three words that make the title of this novel, I only knew the one in the middle. I had to look up what the other two meant... very humbling indeed.

Lentera is the Malay name for a lamp or lantern with an external casing of glass or glass windows. Albaicin is a district in the city of Granada, Spain. Also spelled Albaizin, this place is the old Arab-Moorish quarter of the historical city that is more well-known for the beautiful palace of Alhambra.

The novel tells the story of a young man from the small town of Mersing in Johor, who decides to travel to faraway Europe to help his friend of Arab-Morrocan descent whom he met while studying at UIA, set up an Islamic pre-school in Albaicin, Granada. He lives with his friend's family and gets to know the other relatives and also the friendly local Muslim community. But life as a Muslim in a Christian country is not without its challenges. The book tells the story of these challenges and how the young man tries his best to overcome them using the knowledge he has gained from his education and religious upbringing. Along the way, he meets the beautiful Leyla Zulaikha... but at the same time is reminded of the sweet and shy Nur Karmila from his kampung.

The Alhambra Palace in Granada with a view of Albaicin in the background on the right.

Within the Alhambra compound...

It took me quite a while to finish reading this book, mainly because it is not the type of book that forms my area of reading interest. But finish it I did, and I needed to, because the author may soon be asking me of my opinion of it.

Lentera Cinta Albaicin is the debut novel from writer Mazny M.R. The author is my niece. She is the first novelist in the family. I am perhaps, the only other family member who has any literary or writing interest. I only write in blogs but my niece has already achieved her dream of having her first fiction effort out in print. Way to go, Mazny. Keep on writing...

Book title : Lentera Cinta Albaicin
Author : Mazny M.R.
Pages : 506
Genre : Novel Tarbiah Dewasa
Publisher : Galeri Ilmu Sdn Bhd

Stories from Makkah

I didn't post anything yesterday, the eleventh of November, 2011. I initially wanted to... but then couldn't think of anything significant enough to write about. Well, a friend of ours did complete her wedding vows yesterday but the reception was earlier today. So I guess, let's forget about this eleven, eleven, eleven thingy for a while and talk about something else. I mean, really... did you do anything special on the 3x10 date last year or on triple 9 date the previous year? And what about 12.12.12 for next year? That day falls on a Wednesday.

Ok then, let's write about some real stories... or maybe I'll start with just a sampler.

The Hajj season for this year is now over. In the next few days, pilgrims would be returning from the holy land, hopefully in good health and in high spirits. Most would be very grateful for the experience despite the difficulties and challenges. Pilgrims returning from Makkah always have plenty of stories to tell... and these stories range from the sad, the tragic, the heartmoving and sometimes even the mysterious too.

Before pilgrims embark on the holy journey, they are often reminded to be on their best behaviour when they reach there. This sounds like common sense but humans being humans, reminders are definitely needed. Especially when it comes to controlling what comes out from one's mouth. People tend to say things without giving much thought to what they are saying. If improper things are said while you are in the holy land, it wouldn't be a surprise if the payback is almost immediate. `Cash on Delivery' is the term that I use... God uses his discretion to decide if you get your dividend on the spot rather than wait for the hereafter.

There are many stories that fall into this COD category. If you complain that the air temperature in Makkah or Madinah is too hot for your liking, then don't be surprised if you'll feel the heat throughout your stay there, even when you are in your air-conditioned hotel room. If you grumble that the food served by the hotel is not to your taste, then you run the risk of eating tasteless food no matter where you buy the food from. If you think that you live in a big city and proudly claim to know your way around places, then you might just get lost within Masjidil Haram mosque itself. If you complain that some pilgrims within your group are always late getting on the bus and causing delays, then just wait for the time when you get lost and couldn't find the bus to get you back to your hotel.

Does it mean that we cannot complain about poor service or bad conditions? I don't know... but what I know is, it doesn't hurt to be doing otherwise. The underlying message here is always to be kind, patient and humble, especially when you are His guest.

A few of my friends are on Hajj trips this year and I await their return... not just to listen to their interesting stories but primarily to know that they are back home, safe and healthy.

In the meantime, I'll share with you my own story from Makkah... also in the cash payback category, although this is not for having bad intentions (I hope).

The hotel where I was staying is only about a few hundred metres from the mosque. When walking to the mosque from the hotel for the daily prayers, I would pass by a shoe shop with a large window display. In the display was a pair of leather sandals that caught my eye and I thought that maybe I'd buy it on my way back. After prayers, I stopped by the shop window, looked at the sandals again but decided to defer the purchase. This went on a few more days... I stopped by the shop window every time on the way back to the hotel but never stepped inside the shop. Nak beli ke tidak? Nak beli ke tidak?

Until one day, the decision was made for me.

When I go the Masjidil Haram for the daily prayers, I would normally enter by the same gate and store my footwear in a pigeonhole-type shoerack just inside the gate. In fact, I would try to keep it in the same pigeonhole every time so that it is easy to remember. Stories of lost or stolen (or probably misplaced) footwear is so common in Makkah. I had been quite lucky in not losing mine... until one day, after Asar prayers, I note that my sandals were not in the particular place where I had stored them.

This of course meant that I had to buy a new pair... and so that day, I walked barefooted from the mosque to the shoe shop and finally bought the pair of new sandals which I had been eyeing the previous few days. Now, let's ponder this : if I had not been indecisive in purchasing that leather sandals, or no footwear in that shop window had taken my interest, would fate still determine that I lose my existing pair?

For the love of our parents

Around this time last year, I wrote about the Aidil Adha celebrations and the process of qurbani (sacrifice of livestock) at the mosque near my parents' home. In that post, I mentioned that the noblest aspect of sacrifice is expecting nothing in return. Today, that particular phrase is reminding me of the effort of one particular person, at this present time... and I thought it would be good to write about it, just so there is something for me to remember by, some time in the future.

My family and I are spending this year's Hari Raya Korban at my sister-in-law's place in Selangor. This particular sis-in-law is my wife's eldest sibling. Kak Long Salmah, a retired schoolteacher, is now 67-years old and lives with another sister at Seri Kembangan. Since early this year, both of them have taken on the task of taking care of their ailing and bedridden father. For those of you who have the experience of caring for an elderly person, you will know that it is not something easy. In this case, it is doubly difficult because my father-in-law is someone whose level of patience is towards the lower end of the scale. And to comply with the rule of inverse proportionality, if the one being taken care of is short on `kesabaran', then the one doing the caring needs to have tons of it. Otherwise, the situation would become explosive and ultimately untenable.

Kak Long is not in a healthy condition herself. Many years ago when in her late-forties, she suffered breast cancer. Through a lengthy and arduous treatment of chemotherapy and surgery, she survived. After the death of her husband, she raised her only daughter single-handedly. Being the eldest child in a very large family, Kak Long had been looking out for her 12 younger brothers and sisters all her life. According to my wife, Kak Long was the one who helped buy clothes and shoes for the younger ones during hari raya. A schoolteacher's pay is not lavish but when it comes to family, she was never stingy.

This is not the first time Kak Long is looking after a sick parent. In 1997, she and my wife took on the duty of caring for their mother who was suffering from stroke. My mother-in-law was due for an operation to replace her heart pacemaker when the stroke happened. She became paralysed on one-half of her body and was no longer able to speak properly. Because of this condition, she declined to have the pacemaker replaced, accepting whatever fate that the Almighty has written. Looking after her became a full-time job which Kak Long and my wife shared equally. I was only a bit player in the whole show, helping out here and there when required... to put it simply, there are just things that only daughters are able to do to help their mothers.

My mother-in-law departed in September 1998. Kak Long completed her service as a teacher and retired to live in Kuala Lumpur. My father-in-law re-married and stayed with his new wife.

In December last year, my stepmother-in-law passed away. One of the immediate issues that surfaced from this event was : who is going to take care of my bedridden father-in-law? As an interim move, one of my brother-in-laws offered to take in the old man. But this could not go on for long because my brother-in-law's wife is already looking after her own sick mother. Attending to two elderly persons in the same house is too stressful a task for one person to handle. Something had to be done to resolve this problem.

Ultimately it was Kak Long and another sister who offered to be caretakers. Although it is my father-in-law's wish to have his sons look after him, it ends up with the eldest and youngest daughters doing the job. Despite her own failing health situation, Kak Long has taken on a heavy responsibility at the expense of her own personal comfort. She has now done the honourable duty of the selfless daughter who has taken care of both her mother and her father. That indeed, is a clear example of sacrifice.

For Kak Long, this year's Aidil Adha was spent in a hospital ward. She was admitted last week and diagnosed with fluid in her lungs. Pulmonary edema.... that's the medical term.

I have been visiting Kak Long at Putrajaya Hospital for the past few days. My prayers to Allah swt for the recovery of Salmah Bt Hj Md Amin and bless her for all the good deeds she has done for our family.

The seat of the first Johor Sultanate

When I was a young boy doing the daily commute by bus from our house in Singapore to school in Johor Bahru,  I would walk past a small unimpressive signpost located underneath the flyover just outside the Immigration and Customs checkpoint. The signboard is a short description of how the city of JB got its name. Originally called Tanjung Puteri (if I recall correctly, spelled as Petrie on the signboard), the then small town was renamed Johor Bahru by Sultan Abu Bakar in 1866.

The signboard is of course, no longer there, since the construction of the new CIQ complex. In those days, it crossed my mind that if there is a place called Johor Bahru, then there must be another place somewhere called Johor Lama. Indeed there is... and upon studying a bit of history in school, I learned that the remains Johor Lama, considered as the first capital of the Johor state, can be found on the eastern bank of Sungai Johor within the district of Kota Tinggi. It has taken me more than 30 years since that classroom history lesson to make my first visit to the place.

The brief history of Kota Johor Lama written here

I wasn't particularly good at history while in school. I somehow find it difficult to memorize dates, so when history and geography became elective subjects as we entered Form 4 of secondary school, I naturally chose geography.

Anyway, following my maiden drive on the Senai-Desaru Expressway which I posted about last week, I took the chance to make a trip to Teluk Sengat and Johor Lama. The place now is easily accessible by car since authorities paved and upgraded the track that connects to the KT-Desaru trunk road. Previously, the land route to Teluk Sengat meant driving on earth tracks through palm oil estates. Not too long ago, the primary form of transport used by the villagers was boats.

According to historical notes, the village known as Johor Lama was established by Sultan Alaudin Riayat Shah II in 1540 (hmmm... that's 471 years ago). Sultan Alaudin was the son of Sultan Mahmud Shah, the last sultan of Melaka. When Sultan Mahmud was ousted by the Portuguese in 1511, he escaped to Muar and then to a few other places, where he assembled troops to try re-capture Melaka (which he did not succeed). Depending on your point of view, it can be said that the last king of Melaka became the first king of Johor, although I note that most historians would place Alaudin Riayat Shah as the first sultan. This first sultan's real name is Raja Ali. The official name of Alaudin Riayat Shah the Second was taken when he ascended the throne. The first ARS was the second ARS's grandfather who ruled Melaka up to 1488, before the Portuguese invasion. Confusing, no? That's why I didn't do too well in history.

Mahmud Shah the last sultan, was also linked to the legend of Puteri Gunung Ledang. He was the king who really wanted to marry the mysterious beauty living somewhere up a mountain to the extent of agreeing to most of the practically-impossible pre-conditions set by the princess. This story is an extremely colourful legend... and as legends go, there is no way that it can be verified. Perhaps, that's the way it is meant to be.

On the other hand, if we are to go down further in the succession line of Johor kings, we will come to another sultan with similar name whose history is probably the next most well-known and no less colourful. Sultan Mahmud Shah II was the grandson of Alaudin Riayat Shah II, and therefore the great-grandson of the last sultan of Melaka. He was also the last king of Johor to have direct lineage to the royal Melaka bloodline, having no offspring of his own. Mahmud Shah the Second was said to have ruled his kingdom with a cruel hand. When Dang Anum, the pregnant wife of his trusted admiral Laksamana Bentan, ate a slice of jackfruit from the king's garden without his permission, Sultan Mahmud Shah became very furious. Dang Anum tried to appeal to the sultan by saying that her craving for the jackfruit was because of the baby in her belly. The king became even angrier and ordered Dang Anum's womb be cut open. Legend has it that they found the baby with a piece of the jackfruit in his mouth. I know it's stretching the imagination a bit... but hey, legends wouldn't be colourful without some form of exaggeration.

Laksamana Bentan, who was away at sea fighting off pirates, returned to find that his wife and unborn child had been killed by the king. The admiral swore to avenge the deaths and plotted to murder the sultan. He did so, one afternoon while the king was on his way back after Friday prayers. Laksamana Bentan was then killed by the sultan's guards. This incident led to another name being given to the king : Sultan Mahmud Mangkat Dijulang.

The graves of both Sultan Mahmud Shah and Laksamana Bentan can still be found in Kota Tinggi. The sultan's mausoleum is located at Kg Makam on the eastern bank of Sungai Johor. A few kilometres upstream on the same side of the river at Kg Kelantan is where we can find Bentan's final resting place.

Ok then... enough of history. Back to the present.

The village of Johor Lama is also known as Johor Kampung to the locals. The old fort (or `kota' in Malay) was located on a hill next to the river. There aren't any stone walls that remain today but for some earth mounds that do indicate some form of protective structure. If the present overgrown trees are cleared, I can imagine the fort having a commanding view of the Johor rivermouth.

Entrance to the Johor Lama historical site

View of Sungai Johor

The museum building

The area is now under the maintenance of the Muzeums Department and there is a muzeum there. Unfortunately I arrived late and the muzeum was aready closed. But if you wish to take a peek of what's inside, then have a look at their website here -> Muzium Kota Johor Lama.

Undecided

One man to another : "I want to marry a smart woman; a good woman; a woman who'll make me happy."

"Make up your mind."

KL night view from Ampang look-out point

The link to east Johor

News articles relating to the findings of the 2010 Auditor-General's Report are coming in thick and fast. Among the items that made the highlights is the newly-opened Senai-Desaru Expressway linking central Johor to its eastern coast. Read the Star Online news report at this link -> RM1.3bil Desaru Highway.

Actually, this highway had been partially opened to traffic last year. The first completed portion from Senai to Tanjung Langsat in Pasir Gudang was made available for use, pending the completion of the bridge crossing Sungai Johor.

This post is not to discuss the A-G's findings about the expressway project. Upon reading the news article, I thought I might try take a drive across this new bridge just for the fun of it, having previously driven on the Senai to Tg. Langsat stretch. And so earlier this afternoon, I took my car out for a spin and headed eastwards towards Pasir Gudang and entered the highway at Tanjung Langsat. From there, it was a mere 38km to reach Desaru, a beach resort area facing the South China Sea. The original route from JB to Desaru requires us to take the long road via Kota Tinggi town, a journey that can take up to two hours.

From the Tanjung Langsat interchange towards Cahaya Baru toll plaza, the highway is the standard dual-carriageway design that we see at most other toll highways in Malaysia. From Cahaya Baru towards Desaru, the highway is surprisingly single-lane, just like a standard rural road. There is not even a central divider, which means that you can actually make a 3-point turn and go back the way you just came, although there are numerous signboards warning you not to do so. Obviously, this single carriageway construction is temporary, possibly due to cost constraints. At present, the traffic volume plying this route is way below the designed projections.

The bridge spanning Sungai Johor is a four-lane cabled-stayed bridge rising high above the river. To my eyes, the bridge design is quite beautiful. However, the quality of construction of the road linking this bridge is quite poor. I am surprised the authorities allowed the concession holder to operate the highway without first rectifying the defects evident at certain stretches. Notwithstanding this minor grouse, I do find the highway very convenient if I wish to make a trip to Desaru or any other part of south-east Johor. The toll from Cahaya Baru was RM5.90, reasonable enough if you consider the time saved. Just be extra careful when you drive on this road and don't speed unnecessarily.

I took a photo of the bridge before crossing it and was thinking of taking some more pics of the river from the middle of the bridge. Unfortunately, vehicles are not allowed to stop on the bridge itself, so I proceeded to take a leisurely drive towards Desaru and also to Tanjung Balau beach. On the return trip to Johor Bahru, I decided to use the old route via Kota Tinggi but first made a stop at Teluk Sengat village for another view of the bridge. Teluk Sengat is located on the eastern bank of Sungai Johor and the new highway bridge is downstream southwards.

Approaching the bridge. Traffic was light, hence this pic taken while standing right in the middle of the road.

View from Teluk Sengat southwards. Low tide.

Senai-Desaru Expressway Route Map. Borrowed from here -> SDE Map

Desaru and Tanjung Balau claim to have the best beaches in Johor and the state government has long been promoting this area as a tourist attraction. There are a number of quality hotels and resorts along the coast. I have stayed at Desaru only once before. Being a Johorean myself, I'd say that there are many other lovelier beaches you can find in other parts of Malaysia.

Selingan...

Ramai dari orang kita.... ilmunya tinggi tetapi pemikiran cetek.

Pengalamannya luas tetapi pandangan sempit.

Berlagak sebagai pemimpin kepada ramai tetapi tingkah laku dipengaruhi segilintir.

Berbicara dengan penuh kobar tetapi bertindak sekadar indah khabar...

Low tide at sunset (October 2011)

Are you a keeper or a thrower?

The title of this post has nothing to do with sports. It is something that relates to human nature and behaviour. According to a study I read somewhere, when it comes to possessions, human beings fall into two main categories... either you are a keeper (one who likes to keep many of his old stuff) or you are a thrower (one who prefers to discard old items and replace them with new). Actually, I cannot remember the proper term used in that study to identify these two types of people but I'm sure you know what I mean.

I am declaring upfront that I am a keeper. I keep a lot of my old stuff. Knick-knacks, souvenirs, handwritten letters, postcards, books and of course photographs. These things are kept because they all have some form of memory or history attached. But you cannot call yourself a true keeper until you keep other items as well. Things that are outdated and in most cases, practically useless. Under this group of stuff, I have in my possession old receipts, credit card statements, ATM slips, my university lecture notes, shoes, spectacles and my box of LP records bought when I was still a student. Crazy, huh? I mean, who listens to music played from vinyl albums nowadays? Firstly, you'd have to look for a turntable to play it. Secondly, the sound quality is not as good as the widely available CDs. Even if you crave to listen to music from the '70s and '80s, much of them are available today in MP3 form and downloadable from the internet.

Just to let you know, I still have my first turntable. It no longer works, of course... and sits there in one corner of my store gathering dust. Why haven't I thrown it away? Why do I still keep receipts of items I bought many years ago? What use can I have of those old round-shaped John Lennon type of spectacles which I thought looked cool when I was in my twenties? Why do I hang on to a bunch of keys that open doors or locks that I do not know of anymore?

I really can't give you a simple answer... but if you put a gun to my head, I'd say,"It's in the genes..." It is not that I don't throw stuff away. I do carry out spring cleaning every few years (the `few' here is very subjective) but when carrying out such tasks, I end up flipping and reading up old items and re-living the memories attached to them. Like for example, when I wanted to dispose off large files of my lecture notes... I flipped through one of the folders and found an old assignment paper regarding construction law. I re-read what I wrote nearly 30 years ago and felt a certain kind of warmth. It brought to mind the time I spent reading up on the subject and the effort in writing that paper. After finish re-reading it, I decided to keep my notes for a while longer.

Envelope containing handwritten letter from Japanese friend Akemi Koga. The letter is dated 12 April 1992 and she wrote the first two paragraphs in Bahasa Melayu. How can I throw away such a lovely item like this?

British Railcard from student days

Apart from memories, another factor that holds back keepers from disposing off stuff is the thought that there could be some handy use for the item at some particular point in the future. When any of my household appliance breaks down, I always try to salvage parts that still function. It gives me satisfaction when the occasion would come where the part that I saved becomes useful... but more often than not, such parts are never re-used and end up being stored as junk. Call me stingy, if you like, but re-cycling is in my blood.

My mother is also a keeper (did I not say earlier that it is in the genes?), even more hardcore than me. When we were renovating our house many years ago, she instructed that a separate shed be built at the back to be used as a store. Half of the stuff in that store today belongs to her. You can probably guess what some of these things are... plates, bowls and cups. Pieces of china from the '60s era.

My youngest sister, on the other hand, is a thrower. She doesn't like to keep too many old things. When she moved to a new house, she bought mostly new furniture and disposed off the old ones. When her hobby of keeping aquarium fish waned, she wanted to get rid of the lovely wrought-iron tank stand. Guess who offered to take the thing off her hands?

My habit of keeping stuff is still not that serious... not reaching the stage of being a hoarder yet. But I seriously need to get rid off a lot of objects in my store because it is too crammed now. Throw away a lot of the old junk... so that I can create some space for newer junk...

Food for thought...

When I was a young boy, I loved eating durians. It used to puzzle me back then, why westerners find the smell of the fruit so disgusting. I used to believe that the king of fruits has the best aroma in the world... so how can anyone describe the smell as being stinky?

As I grow older, I slowly come to realise that different people have different tastes and perceptions. One man's meat is another man's poison. And we don't even have to look at a foreign culture to understand this. Even within our own country, the type of food commonly found in one particular region may not necessarily find favour at another.

My exposure to the varying regional flavours began when I entered boarding school. The school is located on the east coast but students come from all over the country. Indeed, the first boy whom I met when checking into the hostel was this guy from Kedah. He spoke in a thick northern accent which I initially thought sounded weird. Later when I met boys from Kelantan, I thought they sounded even weirder. It was from one of these Kelantan friends that I learned about budu. After returning back to school from one of the term breaks, he brought along some of the stuff to show me and sample the taste. My first thought.... Good lord! How can anyone like this?

Till today, I still have not acquired the taste for budu although now I do like to eat nasi kerabu, which in itself gave me a somewhat apprehensive first impression. I mean... purple-coloured rice? Bizzare.

When I got the chance to study in England, the experience of foreign food culture became more interesting. The English love their fish and chips. They liberally spray their chips with salt and vinegar. When I buy this item from the takeaway chip shop, I always say, `Just salt, no vinegar please.' Vinegar, to me, is the stuff my mum use to soak kaffir limes to make her delicious acar limau.

While on a backpacking trip to Europe during one of the summer holidays, I came upon a shop in Switzerland selling all kinds of cheese. The view from outside the shop window was quite lovely... there were cheese of different shapes and sizes in varying colours of white, yellow and even shades of red. I decided to enter and have a better look. The moment I opened the door and took my first step inside, the pong hit me like a blast. I made a quick u-turn for the fresh air outside. I thought the cheese smelt terrible!

It then dawned on me... this must be exactly the same feeling when Mat Sallehs get a whiff of our durians for their first time. Strangely nowadays, I don't consider the durian as my favourite fruit anymore. I still eat it... but I won't go crazy if I don't get it.

So why am I writing about food today after not posting for such a long time? Well, a few days ago I was watching this overseas cooking show on satellite TV and saw a familiar looking vegetable being used as one of the ingredients, but the Mat Salleh called it in a name I've never heard of before. The vegetable (or more correctly, tuber root) is called jicama, pronounced in the Spanish style as hi-ka-ma. Locally, we all know it as sengkuang, a favoured ingredient in our rojak. Also a compulsory item when my mum cooks her kuah lodeh for lontong.

I had always thought the English name for sengkuang was turnip. Apparently I am wrong. You learn something new every day. Seems like some westerners like to have sengkuang in their salads too...

Note : Pic on the left borrowed from TryMasak Online.

Gift or inducement?

It is the norm, come festive seasons, for many of us to be giving or receiving gifts in the form of hampers. Such a practice is normally done based on a business relationship rather than a personal one… I mean you’d never send a hari raya hamper to your old school friend, would you? Also, the act of giving and receiving is almost always a one-way street. From a supplier to a customer. From a contractor to a client. From a sub-contractor to the main contractor. In short, from a beneficiary to another who is in authority. Never the other way round.

Which begs the question : is hamper-giving during festive season to be considered a token of gratitude or an inducement of (future) favours? Having been on both sides of this equation throughout my working life, I can offer arguments either way… indeed, I’ve had long and serious discourse with colleagues on such an interesting topic, but that is not the intention of this post. We’ll leave the discussions on ethics for another day.

I’d like to talk about the hamper itself… or rather, the things that are packed or wrapped inside the standard hamper to create a visually enticing gift.

Many years ago, during the early days of being in the work market, it used to be quite exciting to be receiving hampers. The feeling is not unlike a school kid getting a gift of candy. It did not matter what was inside the hamper, as long as it was BIG and nicely wrapped in colourful cellophane paper. Pretty soon, the novelty wore off when you realise the stuff inside such hampers are simply packs or cans of everyday foodstuff, most of which you would not normally buy on your own anyway. I may sound like an ingrate but the things they give you are so easily predictable… boxes of chocolate, confectionery, cookies, cans of preserved fruits and maybe some glassware. All these arranged in a plastic basket with a bottle of orange squash concentrate or bubbly fruit drink forming the pinnacle.

The sad thing is, most of the items are from unknown manufacturers (ok lah… if you want me to say it crudely, `unbranded’). In the hamper that I received this year, the only recognizable item is the box of Ferrero Rocher chocolates (to give the hamper a look of respectability, agaknya lah). The box of biscuits is an unknown brand from a factory in Batu Pahat. The can of fish cracker snacks is made by a manufacturer I’ve never heard of before. The bottle of mango cordial is similary from some obscure source, definitely not found on the supermarket shelves.

There you have it… I totally sound like an ungrateful jerk, aren’t I? Dah dapat hamper, nak komplen lagi!

Which now brings me to the point that I really want to make. If you honestly want to give something to somebody to show your appreciation, then please put some thought into what you intend to give. Don’t just pick a typical package from those fly-by-night hamper packing companies that mushroom during festive seasons.

At one of the place where I used to work, we gave our clients gifts of quality hari raya cakes and cookies packed in beautiful wicker baskets, each tied with a lovely ribbon. Doesn’t cost much more than the standard food hamper and certainly much smaller, but I’m pretty sure, much more appreciated.

This year's Aidilfitri...

The first day of Aidilfitri this year was spent at my parents' home in Singapore. My father and my mother are the oldest surviving family members this side of the causeway and as such, they have become the focal point of visits from relatives during this festive occasion. My wife and I have to act as hosts in receiving the large number of guests, most of whom are my cousins and their children.

As always, it was a noisy and joyous day throughout, even though it was pretty tiring... but then, it is only for one celebration each year. Otherwise I doubt us cousins would meet up at all.

It was also a happier hari raya for us this time because my youngest brother who's based overseas, is presently home for the holidays with his family. I got to meet my two nieces and one nephew whom I last saw more than three years ago. With the exception of my second son (who is back in college in Indonesia), my father and mother had an Aidilfitri with the full complement of their grandchildren.

Grandparents and their grandchildren. The eldest grandson is 22 years while the youngest granddaughter is 8.

Kekurangan jemaah

Tapak projek di mana saya bertugas sekarang terletak di kawasan pendalaman di daerah yang dikatakan sebagai tanah paling selatan di hujung benua Asia. Nak kata jauh dari jalan utama... tak juga sebenarnya, tapi kira memang kawasan kampung.

Banyak juga kampung di kawasan ini yang mana penduduknya rata-rata adalah pekebun kecil ataupun nelayan. Dengan adanya beberapa projek pembangunan, maka adalah peluang pekerjaan bagi anak-anak muda tempatan untuk bekerja sebagai pekerja binaan mahir ataupun buruh biasa. Namun begitu, tugasan seperti ini bersifat sementara. Anak-anak muda dari kampung lebih gemar mencari pekerjaan tetap di bandar-bandar besar.

Pejabat tapakbina syarikat saya terletak berhampiran dengan kampung yang sedap namanya... Kg Sungai Dinar. Bila ada kelapangan, saya serta staff-staff yang lain gemar melaksanakan solat waktu secara berjemaah di masjid kampung itu, lebih-lebih lagi di bulan ramadhan yang mulia ini. Apa yang saya perhatikan pada setiap solat jemaah ialah bilangan makmum yang tersangatlah sedikit... itupun majoritinya dari kalangan kami yang bukan penduduk tempatan. Kalau dalam satu saf itu ada sepuluh orang, tujuh darinya adalah kami pekerja-pekerja dari syarikat binaan yang terlibat di sana.

Pada solat asar petang semalam, saya ke masjid bersama seorang rakan setugas. Setelah azan dilaungkan oleh Pak Bilal, tiada lagi makmum yang muncul tiba... jadi akhirnya solat berjemaah kami tiga orang sahaja. Ya, mungkin orang lain sudah bercuti atau sibuk ke pasar membeli persiapan hari raya... tapi sedih juga lah kan.

Dan saya rasa... perkara yang sama turut dialami oleh masjid-masjid kampung pendalaman, di mana jua di tanahair kita ini.

Salam Aidifitri buat semua pembaca. Semuga Allah swt menerima amalan kita semua...

Ada mee di sebalik udang...

If you happen to travel from Pontian town towards the fishing village of Kukup, you may notice a bridge crossing Sungai Rambah. Next to this bridge is a small fisherman's jetty and a simple foodstall. The look of the foodstall is nothing to write about... I've passed by this road countless times and had not noticed it until a friend suggested I try tasting the mee bandung udang. And when it comes to trying out tasty makan places, I'm always up for it...

A few days ago, I was on my way to look for a place to break my fast and noticed that the foodstall was open. I made a stop and had a look at the simple handwritten menu on a large card pasted on the wall. I ordered a nescafe tarik and mee bandung.

The stall owner asks if I want mee bandung biasa, mee bandung udang or mee bandung udang special. `Yang special tu macam mana bang?' I ask back.

`Oh, yang itu udang lebih,' was the simple reply. Of course I have to go for the special la kan?

Prawns and noodles are really meant for each other. Any dish involving the combination of these two ingredients normally cannot go wrong. When my plate of mee bandung udang special arrived at my table, the large prawns actually covered the noodles. The whole dish was delicious. The prawns were fresh and the gravy tasty too. Of course I had to sort of not think about the effects of increased cholesterol intake... if you know what I mean.

Makanlah selagi ada selera.... that's my motto.

At only RM8 a plate, this dish was worth it

Going back to my roots...

It has been quite a while since my last post. The new job I'm involved in now has really sapped up most of my time and energy. There have been times I have thought of giving up but that would've been the easy way out. Things have gotten a bit better the last few days and I guess it is fair for me to follow the sort of advice I normally give to others when facing similar situations. Going through tough times can only make you tougher... you won't learn much by doing things the easy way.

I am now working at a project located in the district where I was born. I can't actually say it is my hometown because I did not grow up here. I was born at my late maternal grandfather's house in Pontian, Johor but I grew up in Singapore when my father moved the family across the causeway the year after I was born. The only childhood memories I have of this small town are the times when my father took us back to visit our grandparents for Hari Raya.

My grandfather and grandmother of course, both have left us a long time ago but the old house is still there, now occupied by an uncle and his children. The story of this house was posted earlier here -> Day trip back to the kampung.

Now I find myself spending a bit more time at this small town, probably more often that I have ever done before.

After settling most of my work stuff earlier today, I had some time to kill and so decided to take a drive to Pontian and look for a place to break my fast. On the way, I stopped by a recreational park near Rambah to enjoy the beautiful sunset. There is this Bugis Museum nearby but it has already closed for the day. Maybe I'll drop by another time and have a look at what's on display.

Suspension bridge

The sky at sunset. The dark shape on the horizon is Pulau Pisang.

After snapping some photos of the sunset with a simple compact camera, I left the park and proceeded to Pontian town for some chow.

I'll end this post now with my first fasting month story. This incident actually happened last year and I am prompted to tell it after reading blogger-friend Kak Teh's status update in her Facebook yesterday...

The family and I were visiting a Ramadhan bazaar near our home in JB. We stopped by a stall selling nasi lemak ayam goreng berempah. While the seller was packing our order, I casually out of habit, picked up a kacang tanah goreng (fried groundnut) from the large plastic container in front of me and popped it into my mouth. I was happily munching away when I noticed the seller strangely staring at me. My first thought was... eh, tak kan kacang sebiji pun kau nak kira ke? Lokek sangat.

After paying for the purchase and walking away, I then realised he was staring at me for another reason! Orang tua ni tak puasa ke?! Hahaha....

Time flies when you're having fun

Well.... I'm not actually having fun. For the past two weeks I have been entrenched in my new job with hardly any time to think about blogging. The project that I have been put in charge now has already been running for three months and therefore I need to get up to speed in double quick time. It has been half-a-month of meeting deadlines, preparing reports and resolving site issues. Pretty tense at times.

Nonetheless, it is better than being bored doing nothing. This new project I am involved in is located way down south, in a place touted to be the southernmost point of the Asian continent. I'll tell you folks more about this place later when the work has stabilised and I've found my rhythm.

Being located in a small town near the sea means that I'm experiencing a change in my diet. I am now eating fish more frequently than I have ever been. Tonight's dinner was ikan pari bakar or actually baby stingray we call as tuka. The fish was fresh of course... and the chilli sambal paste was exceedingly tasty and not too hot.

Small stingray grilled with chilli paste

Ok then.... catch up with you guys again soon.

How come the tasty stuff are the bad ones too?

In the previous post, I wrote about the passing of my friend's eldest son due to a complication I have never heard of before. Although I'm not a doctor, I thought I have heard or read about most of the life-threatening diseases there are. Just goes to show that when it comes to subject of the human body's health, there are still so many things that we have yet to know.

No doubt, the prophet Muhammad s.a.w. had mentioned that for every ailment, there is a cure. It is just that the present human skills and capability have not discovered most of them yet.

Which now brings me to the subject of my own health. About two years ago, I posted the results of my medical tests in this blog. It showed an improvement in the total cholesterol level in my blood that has fallen below reference level and a slightly high uric acid level. This caused me to seriously re-think the stuff that I eat everyday so that I could maintain the cholesterol level and perhaps reduce the uric acid level.

Apparently, I have not been serious enough...

The results of my latest medical check-up came in a few weeks ago... and they do not look too good. Well actually, I am generally okay... except for the two items above which have been a bane in my medical history. My total cholesterol level jumped from a low of 4.5 mmol/L to a high of 5.7 mmol/L, i.e above the reference level of 5.2. The uric acid level did not improve either, rising from 0.45 mmol/L to 0.49 mmol/L, above the reference level of 0.42.

This is not good at all. The high levels of these two substances are primarily due to diet. Red meat, shellfish, anchovies, tuna, soy beans (plus all its derivatives such as kicap and tempe) and a whole lot of other tasty stuff. Perhaps I should just become a vegetarian...

The human body's filtration system

Around two weeks ago, a friend of mine Zaaba Ahmad, posted on his Facebook status about his son's medical condition. He mentions IgA Nephropathy. I didn't know what it means so I immediately ran a google search. Upon reading a few of the online reference sources, I became a bit depressed. The eldest son of my friend is suffering from a very serious ailment. I copy below, the first two opening lines from one website, and you'll understand what I mean :

IgA nephropathy is a kidney disorder that occurs when IgA—a protein that helps the body fight infections—settles in the kidneys. After many years, the IgA deposits may cause the kidneys to leak blood and sometimes protein in the urine. (source - NIDDK)

Our kidneys functions as the natural filtration system for our body. It removes wastes and excess water from our blood and discharges them as urine. Damaged and diseased kidneys are seldom treatable. More often than not, transplant is the only solution.

Early this week, Zaaba transferred his son from a hospital in Seremban to the HTAA Hospital in Kuantan. The young man was studying for A-levels at a Seremban college and had in fact, sat for his exams while warded. His condition had not improved and Zaaba decided to transfer the son to Kuantan to be nearer his hometown so the family can easily be by his bedside. Zaaba kept us friends updated by posting news on FB.

Yesterday the young man slipped into coma and was warded in ICU. I managed to get a call through to my friend at 11.00 am today. He was at the hospital and told me that the situation did not look good. The son is on a life support machine. I couldn't say much except offer to pray for his son. I almost cried...

At around 5pm, I received a message from another friend who was at the hospital.... they have stopped the respirator. Zaaba has lost his 20-year old son.

My condolonces to Zaaba and his family. May the Almighty place the soul of Afiq Aiman Bin Zaaba among the pious.

The joy of meeting friends from cyberspace

Some time back, in the early days of this 3-year old blog, I wrote the following :

I created this blog primarily as an avenue to sharpen my writing and story-telling skills. It's a very modest journal on personal experiences mostly. It also gives me the chance to meet other writers in blogosphere. Along the way, I get to be friends with readers, commenters and other fellow bloggers... and this is a good thing. Thanks to all of you for dropping by and having something to say about what I write. Most appreciated. I truly hope that we'll be able to meet in real life, one day.

During my young days in primary school, I loved writing. English composition was my favourite subject. Those days I wrote to a number of pen pals (wonder if such a hobby still exists today). I never got to meet any of my letter-writing friends. The interest in writing stopped for a while when I went for further studies. Thanks to this phenomenon of blogging, I re-discovered this old pastime.

In blogosphere, I came across other like-minded souls. I am glad to note that I have succeeded in meeting some of my blogger friends and regular commenters... and with that, I hope our friendship will continue to last.

The very first blogger-friend I met in person is Versedanggerik who lives in Kuantan. That was back in 2008. I met her again early this year when I was again in Kuantan and she graciously invited me for tea so that she could introduce me to her other half. As it turns out, Mr Ahan and I do have something in common.

One weekend in early May, I managed to meet up with Kak Teh and her hubby Awang Goneng for the latter's book promotion at MPH Mid-valley. The following week, I met Emila Yusof at Silverfish books in Bangsar. I met Emila again early this week when she handed over a watercolour painting of hers that I decided to buy.

An original Emila Yusof creation called Rose II

On the 4th of June, I attended the wedding of Zendra's son, where I got to meet Kak Zen and her husband Red Alfa. Finally, two days ago I met up with Pak Zawi at his daughter's house in Puchong, to hand over the autographed copy of Awang Goneng's `A Map of Trengganu'.

Pak Zawi with his adorable grandchildren

Putting them all as a list will look like this :-

1. Versedanggerik - Ahan in the afternoon
2. Kak Teh - Choc-a-bloc blog
3. Emila Yusof - Emila Yusof's Illustrations
4. Zendra Maria - Zendra's fascinations
5. Pak Zawi - Life as I see it

Really lovely people, all of them. I am glad to have met their acquaintance. There are many more of the wonderful friends on my blogroll whom I wish to meet. God willing, the time will come when our paths cross in real life.

Telling the truth now, will hurt... but not telling will hurt even more

There are certain times in our lives when we face a situation that puts us in dilemma. More often than not, such a situation is a result of a decision or choice we made quite a long time ago. At the point in time when the decision was made, we believed that it was the correct one, or at least it was the most appropriate one under the circumstances. In actual fact, we are merely pushing the problem to a later date, hoping that somehow a favourable solution would present itself sometime in the future. Sooner or later, we come to the inevitable point of dealing with the matter, whether we like it or not.

A few days ago, my cousin met me to discuss about a problem she is facing. She is making preparations for the wedding of her only daughter in a few month's time. She wants my help to arrange for my mother (being the closest elder family member) to be present when she breaks an important piece of news to the young lady who's getting married. And what is this important bit of news that needs to be told?

The young lady is adopted. My niece is not my cousin's biological daughter. When my cousin got married many years ago, she found out that she couldn't bear any children of her own. An opportunity came by her way when someone gave up a baby girl for adoption. My cousin took up the offer and proceeded to raise the girl as her own. I can still remember the first time I set eyes on my cousin's new daughter. She was so cute and chubby, and everyone adored her.

The baby girl has now grown up to be a pretty young lady. She started work as a graphic designer a few years ago and her hand is now sought in marriage by a handsome young man.

The time has therefore arrived for the mother to reveal to the daughter who she actually is. It is something that cannot be avoided, especially in Muslim marriages. My cousin is now in the unenviable position of finding a way of breaking the news to the young lady. I can picture the heartache and grief that both mother and daughter will face when the news is broken. Expect tears to flow, all around.

Why is my cousin asking me for advice? Because I have first-hand experience of such a situation. My own youngest sister is adopted. The day when my parents told her the real story was one of the saddest days of my life.

I recall the day very well. My mother had called me one day, asking me to come home urgently. Something to do with my sister, she said. I went to my parent's home with my wife. On reaching there, I saw that all my three younger brothers have already arrived. When we were all seated, my father started to speak. The old man is a seasoned speaker and he delivered the story in a most gentle and calm manner as he could. Even so, how are we to know what my sister felt at that time? When my father finished speaking, it was the turn of my mother... and the emotions started to flow as soon as she spoke. When she finished, the time came for the brothers to speak. Being the eldest, I spoke first. I wasn't sure what I said had helped relieve my sister's feeling of grief and possibly disappointment at that time.

I love my sister very much. Before she came into our life, we were four mischievous siblings, all boys. My mother brought her home when I was 13-years old. I helped my mother take care of her until the day I had to enroll into boarding school. Never once did it cross my mind that she and I do not carry the same blood.

I told my cousin our story. How she would approach her own situation now would very much depend on how she expect the reaction would be from her daughter. It would be preferable, I thought, if my cousin was to speak to her daughter on a one-to-one basis. The fewer people around, the better... because it always hurt you more to know that other people know about your background than your own self. But if my cousin feels that she needs our moral support, then we will be there. Whatever it is, I hope she doesn't wait too long. Waiting does not help lighten the sorrow...

Teluk Iskandar Inn

I am sitting at a lovely veranda as I type this entry... enjoying a simple breakfast of scrambled eggs on toast with black coffee, while at the same time taking in a splendid view of the calm South China Sea. The day is bright and not yet warm and a gentle breeze blows. No doubt in a short while it would be hot and humid once the sun reaches its peak. Even so, I don't think that would spoil the peaceful and tranquil setting of this place.

The breakfast veranda

I am presently lodged at Teluk Iskandar Inn in Mersing on the east coast of Johor. We checked in late evening yesterday and plan to attend the wedding reception of our niece later this afternoon.

Teluk Iskandar Inn is a quaint, privately-run establishment owned by an elderly Malay couple, Puan Kamariah and Encik Ibrahim. It is located on a piece of land with sea frontage, not too far away from Mersing town. I have noticed this place many years ago but never had the chance to set foot in it. Mersing is my wife's hometown and it doesn't make sense to `balik kampung' and yet go stay at a hotel. This time around, we are back only for a wedding. The family kampung house has not been occupied for a few months and would need some effort to get cleaned.

I got to know of this inn from online reviews and have been keen to give it a try for quite some time. It doesn't have that many rooms and early booking is recommended. The rooms are set out in a elevated terraced layout that extends from the house proper (where the owners stay). The upper level is where the rooms are located while the area below (what Malays call kolong) have been simply but tastefully decorated as a lepak area. The bedrooms are basic but adequate... no fancy flatscreen satellite TV or the like, which would actually look out of place in such a rustic setting. But online addicts (yours truly included) need not fret... the wi-fi signal here is strong and reliable.

View from the beach side towards the house

Nice place to relax

Foreigners have been coming to Mersing and staying at this inn for many years. Their recommendations have made it even to Lonely Planet. At the rest lounge below the rooms, there is this framed hand-written list prepared by a Matsalleh couple. It lists out all the birds they have seen while staying here. There are 24 species. I'm no bird-watcher, so most of the names escape me... but one did capture my attention, the brahminy kite. This is a type of bird-of-prey that feeds on fish and other marine animals. I kept an eye out for the bird during my early morning walk on the beach to catch the sunrise, but did not spot any.

Lovely place, this Teluk Iskandar Inn... how I wish I can own such a place as this when I retire.

Sunrise on the east-coast

Sesekali ku rasa teringin...

I first started my career as an engineer with a state-government agency in Johor back in 1984. I shared a house with a few other bachelor friends from the same workplace. Our office was situated in the tower block of Kompleks Tun Abdul Razak, smack in the middle of Johor Bahru town.

Those days, the town's central wet market was situated next to Komtar. At the end of each working day when the market closes for business, the lanes surrounding it are taken over by push-cart hawkers and night vendors selling a variety of cooked food items and other knick-knacks. Among those selling the foodstuff is this one stall that sells nasi beringin. My housemates and I used to frequent this stall after work because the food is very tasty.

The central market was later torn down and shifted to another site in Larkin. In its place they built a shopping mall and office block now known as City Square. With the demolition of the market, the temporary night traders had to make way too. I didn't know where the nasi beringin seller moved to... and so ceased eating this dish for some time. There wasn't any other makan place in JB that sells the same stuff.

Many years later, a friend from Muar told me that there is a shop in the Tanjung Agas area selling nasi beringin. Whenever I have the chance to visit him, he would take me dinner at that place. The rice wasn't as tasty as the one I remember from the stall at JB wet market, but it wasn't too bad either.

During my first working stint in Kuala Lumpur a few years ago, an acquaintance from TNB Hq mentioned that there is a foodstall in Bangsar which sells delicious nasi beringin. I asked him for the exact location and then went to search for the place. The stall is located within a foodcourt inside an office block behind the NST Balai Berita... not really that difficult to find but getting a parking space is near torture. That is why I have been to the stall only once.

Earlier today, I was in the Bangsar area and remembered about the nasi beringin stall again. Since it was not yet quite mid-day, I decided to drop by the place ahead of the lunchtime crowd. But all would depend if I could find a space to park. As luck would have it, I manage to find an empty lot on my second driving lap around Jalan Riong and Jalan Liku. And so my lunch today was nasi beringin with beef rendang and boiled egg curry.

Today's lunch of nasi beringin and ice-lemon tea

Nasi beringin is rice flavoured with coconut milk and other spices, not unlike nasi lemak but with a more pungent aroma. It is normally eaten with chicken or beef, cooked in any style... fried, curry or rendang. The name has nothing to do with the pokok beringin (banyan tree), more famously known because of relation to ghost stories.

As far as I know, there is only this one place in KL that sells nasi beringin. Personally, there is nothing really that spectacular about the taste but if you wish to try a slightly different flavour from the normal rice, then it is worth it. This stall is very popular. The guy in front of me placed an order for thirty packs to `tapau'. As I enjoyed my meal, the clock approached lunch hour and the crowd started to form. Very good business.

Always give your best... no half-measures please

The following is a story I heard from the imam at the mosque after the zohor (mid-day) prayers earlier today. It touches on a theme which I have often heard but when presented with a fresh angle based on a supposedly true story, it makes it all the more interesting.

A medical student in a middle-eastern country and his professor were sitting down having tea one afternoon at a cafe. The  professor takes out a one-dinar (or whatever the unit of currency of that particular country) note and with a pen, starts to draw caricatures on the face of the country's leader shown on that note. The defaced portrait clearly indicated the lecturer's dislike for the leader.


He gives the note to the student and tells him that he can go buy anything with it.


`But this note is now worthless,' says the student. `It has been damaged. I can't buy anything with it.'


`Well... let's just try and see how ingenious you are,' the professor responds.


`Is there something to be learned from this?' the student asks.


`If you manage to part with this money by buying something, call me when the note makes its way back to you,' the professor replies.


They both leave the cafe and the student starts thinking on how he can use the defaced note to buy something. He decides to try at a fruit vendor. He buys six-dinar worth of fruits and hands over six one-dinar notes to the seller. Within the folded notes is the one with the defaced portrait. If the seller spots the worthless note, the student plans to pretend ignorance and replace it with another one.


The seller flicks through the folded notes and nods his okay. Phew, the student thought... my strategy works.


A month later, the student takes a taxi from the university back to his hostel. The fare is seven dinars. He hands over a 10-dinar note and slips the 3 dinar change the driver gives him straight into his shirt pocket.


Later that day, he prepares to wash his clothes and out comes three pieces of 1-dinar note from the shirt pocket. One of the three is the defaced note he had first given the fruit vendor. It has somehow made its way back to its starting point. The student remembers his professor's words and gave the senior man a call.


The lesson to be learnt here, says the professor, is that, whatever you do in life... one day you will get back the same in return. If you do slipshod work or put in half-hearted effort for others, the same will be done to you in the future. So, in anything that you do, please always do your best and with full sincerity.

Now... that indeed is a timely reminder to oneself.

There is no chemistry between us

Before readers get any wrong ideas, let me clarify that, no, I don't have any relationship problems. This post is a story about what happened a long time ago when I was in secondary school.

What reminded me of this story was a post around two weeks ago in fellow blogger Dr Sam's blog about his experiences when conducting experiments at school that later spurred his ambition to become a scientist. I dropped a comment in that post by telling about an incident I went through in Science class. I decided that I may as well share the story in this blog with some extension and correction.

The year was 1979 and I was in Form Five. Our Chemistry class was taught by a teacher whose name is Mr Wong Seng Kuang. I wasn't that particularly good in Chemistry. I seem to have a weakness in remembering chemical formulae and how many protons or electrons there are in the atom of any particular element. I have always preferred Biology because I find it interesting and easy to memorise facts about living things.

Mr Wong is a Sarawakian and speaks with a peculiar tone. Sometimes we find it hard to understand what he says. He has difficulty in pronouncing my name properly and every time he calls out to me, the girls in class would giggle. Despite this situation, I liked his Chemistry class and paid attention. In the end, when the MCE exam results came out, I scored better grades in Chemistry than Biology.

One day, Mr Wong gave the class an assignment. We were each asked to select a chemical compound but not let any of our other classmates know of our choice. We were then to exchange our compounds and carry out experiments on the sample given to us to determine what it is. Examples of such tests include lighting a bit of the stuff over the bunsen burner and see the colour of its flame, or checking its pH value to see if it is acid or alkali.

The next day, when we returned to class, all the girls were ready with their samples but I was the only guy out of 16 boys in the class who prepared a test specimen. Talk about being the odd one out. Either the rest of the guys misheard Mr Wong's instruction or simply did not like the subject of Chemistry as much as I did. Mr Wong was real displeased but he decided to proceed with the experiments with those of us who had come prepared.

There were nine girls in my class, and with me being the odd boy out, it made an even ten. Mr Wong drew lots and I ended up being paired with Yana, who is one of the prettiest girls in the class. I don't think I had ever spoken a word to her before that day. Come to think of it, I hardly spoke to most of my girl classmates those days (yeah, right! I hear you say).

Anyway, Yana and I exchanged samples and we proceed with our experiment. The compound that Yana gave me was a grainy white powder that looks very similar to common salt. I carried out the first test and confirmed that it was a type of chloride. It then crossed my mind that I should maybe skip the next proper step and just taste the stuff.... and so I did. Heck, it nearly burned my tongue! Definitely not common salt.

I quickly took a large gargle of water from the sink and spat it out. I wasn't sure if my lab partner had noticed it but if she did, she didn't ask me about it. And I was too embarrassed to tell her.

It was only towards the end of the year when I finally owned up by writing in her autograph book about it. I'm not sure if she found it silly or funny, or perhaps both.

And so nowadays, when it comes to testing chemical substances, I never take anymore shortcuts...