I love grey weather. I love the rain.
It doesn't rain very often here. Even if it does, it doesn't rain very long. But a few days ago, I woke up to a grey sky. And then I heard a tap, tap, tap sound. Its the sound of the rain falling on the rooftop.
And somehow that sound made me so happy.
It reminded me of my teenage days, playing in the rain.
The first few days I arrived in Calgary, all alone in a hostel room.
And the days we were living in London when it was always raining.
I want her to know that the sound of raindrops falling on the rooftops make me happy.
It really does!
Monday, April 03, 2006
Saturday, April 01, 2006
Grrrrrrrr
I saw the shutters closing half way.
Uh uh, is it time for prayer already?
Now,perhaps you're thinking I am a pious person who prays right smack on time.
Err no. Not really.
I was at the supermarket, rushing through the isles, grabbing food stuff from the shelves and shoving fruits and vegetables into plastic bags to be weighed.
You see, over here shops are close during prayer times. All the tills will be closed. In the bigger supermarkets you would be allowed to roam within the shops. But not in the smaller shops where you would be asked to leave, and the owner would lock the shop up.
If I cannot pay for my goods before they close for prayers, I would be stuck in there for another half hour. And I wouldn't like that.
So I rushed to cashier no 14. Ready to load my shopping onto the conveyour table.
The cashier signalled me to go to the next cashier.
Hmpppphh.
So I went to cashier 10. And just as I was about to put the items on the belt, the cashier signalled me to go to cashier 14.
And I lost my temper.
"No I am not going there! He told me to come here and now you are telling me to go there. So now which cashier I should go to???"
The two young cashiers looked at each other.
I was really pissed off. They were both trying to push we away from paying for my goods. And I won't have any of that. i refused to be bullied. I bet they were surprised that I shouted in refusal to be pushed around. I am no ping pong ball.
Cashier no 10 relented and scanned my goods.
Don't mess with a crazy woman at the supermarket. And don't you think that just because I am a woman I will be submissive to you.
Uh uh, is it time for prayer already?
Now,perhaps you're thinking I am a pious person who prays right smack on time.
Err no. Not really.
I was at the supermarket, rushing through the isles, grabbing food stuff from the shelves and shoving fruits and vegetables into plastic bags to be weighed.
You see, over here shops are close during prayer times. All the tills will be closed. In the bigger supermarkets you would be allowed to roam within the shops. But not in the smaller shops where you would be asked to leave, and the owner would lock the shop up.
If I cannot pay for my goods before they close for prayers, I would be stuck in there for another half hour. And I wouldn't like that.
So I rushed to cashier no 14. Ready to load my shopping onto the conveyour table.
The cashier signalled me to go to the next cashier.
Hmpppphh.
So I went to cashier 10. And just as I was about to put the items on the belt, the cashier signalled me to go to cashier 14.
And I lost my temper.
"No I am not going there! He told me to come here and now you are telling me to go there. So now which cashier I should go to???"
The two young cashiers looked at each other.
I was really pissed off. They were both trying to push we away from paying for my goods. And I won't have any of that. i refused to be bullied. I bet they were surprised that I shouted in refusal to be pushed around. I am no ping pong ball.
Cashier no 10 relented and scanned my goods.
Don't mess with a crazy woman at the supermarket. And don't you think that just because I am a woman I will be submissive to you.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Riana
I met up with Riana on the bus the other day. She was running to catch the bus as she was slightly late. As soon as she was seated, I asked her how she was and remarked that I havent seen her for a long time. She told me that she has been away to It@|y spending some time with her family. And since her daughter needed an operation due to an injury during a ski trip, she stayed home to drive her daughter to campus, as well as pysiotheraphy.
And she told me that while waiting for her daughter to finish class on campus, she roamed around in the University, reliving her days as a student. She already had a Masters in Economics and was lecturing for awhile before following her husband to the M|ddle E@st. Her love was for Economics and Antropology. And she told me that she talked to the people in the faculty and found out that she can do her Masters in Antropology next.
And she turns 61 this year.
"I just want to go back to do my Masters in Antropology. I would be doing it for my personal pleasure"
And I am so impressed. How many of us would have the interest, the energy and the dedication to study again at 61?
That bought me back to my days as an undergraduate in UofC. There were some older students in some of my classes. I talked to one of them who told me that he was doing his Degree in Literature because he wanted to prove to himself that he can do it.
I wonder what I would be doing when I am 60.
Then again Riana doesn't look or behave 60. She appears much younger and is often doing all sorts of things to make herself busy.
But next month she will be moving away and she told me that they are planning to retire in 3 years time. Thank you Riana. Its such a pleasure to know you. And I am inspired by your outlook in life.
And she told me that while waiting for her daughter to finish class on campus, she roamed around in the University, reliving her days as a student. She already had a Masters in Economics and was lecturing for awhile before following her husband to the M|ddle E@st. Her love was for Economics and Antropology. And she told me that she talked to the people in the faculty and found out that she can do her Masters in Antropology next.
And she turns 61 this year.
"I just want to go back to do my Masters in Antropology. I would be doing it for my personal pleasure"
And I am so impressed. How many of us would have the interest, the energy and the dedication to study again at 61?
That bought me back to my days as an undergraduate in UofC. There were some older students in some of my classes. I talked to one of them who told me that he was doing his Degree in Literature because he wanted to prove to himself that he can do it.
I wonder what I would be doing when I am 60.
Then again Riana doesn't look or behave 60. She appears much younger and is often doing all sorts of things to make herself busy.
But next month she will be moving away and she told me that they are planning to retire in 3 years time. Thank you Riana. Its such a pleasure to know you. And I am inspired by your outlook in life.
Friday, March 24, 2006
Life is too short
What do I want to do or see before I pass on? Will I ever be prepared to face death or will death creep up on me?
I pondered on those questions after I heard about Ec's sister. She was in coma for a month, and just passed away last week at age 30. Did she know she was dying? They still don't know what caused her coma and are doing a postmortem.
As each day turn in a week, and weeks turn into months. I just get caught up in the rush of the day. Sleep seemed insuffiecient as the sun rises to another day. Will I get to prepare myself for that eventual day?
There are so many things I hope to achieve and I hope I get to grow old with him.
Ec is devastated as there are only two of them. He plans to fly back to Austr|@ after the autopsy report is released. His wife is away in Ir@n. Va told me that he doesn't want others to know or to call him about it.
Ec I wish you well. I am sure your sister's going is predestined by Fate.
Take care.
I pondered on those questions after I heard about Ec's sister. She was in coma for a month, and just passed away last week at age 30. Did she know she was dying? They still don't know what caused her coma and are doing a postmortem.
As each day turn in a week, and weeks turn into months. I just get caught up in the rush of the day. Sleep seemed insuffiecient as the sun rises to another day. Will I get to prepare myself for that eventual day?
There are so many things I hope to achieve and I hope I get to grow old with him.
Ec is devastated as there are only two of them. He plans to fly back to Austr|@ after the autopsy report is released. His wife is away in Ir@n. Va told me that he doesn't want others to know or to call him about it.
Ec I wish you well. I am sure your sister's going is predestined by Fate.
Take care.
Saturday, March 11, 2006
Waiting
First I counted the days. Then the hours. And now the minutes. The whole household was restless in anticipation of his return.
The weather was surreal all day. The day was covered in dust with a long sandstorm. And the night was covered in rain. With hail no less.
All waiting to greet him for his return.
Its only been a week since he has been gone but it felt too long. Ironically we only knew each other for the last decade. We grew up not knowing each other but somehow I don’t think I can live without him.
I can’t bear to be separated from him.
He almost cancelled the trip but I urged him to go. It would be good I thought. But I miss him so much, wanting to be on his side.
But my love also makes me fearful. What if I get left behind? What if he moves on? What will happen to me? Somehow, reading Elisa’s entry made it worst for me.
All I can do is to pray. Pray for his safe return. Pray for long fruitful lives together. Pray that we will always be happy and will grow together.
Sorry if I am mushy. 15 minutes to go and I’m counting the seconds.
Can’t wait to be in his arms again.
Welcome home honey. You’ve been sorely missed
The weather was surreal all day. The day was covered in dust with a long sandstorm. And the night was covered in rain. With hail no less.
All waiting to greet him for his return.
Its only been a week since he has been gone but it felt too long. Ironically we only knew each other for the last decade. We grew up not knowing each other but somehow I don’t think I can live without him.
I can’t bear to be separated from him.
He almost cancelled the trip but I urged him to go. It would be good I thought. But I miss him so much, wanting to be on his side.
But my love also makes me fearful. What if I get left behind? What if he moves on? What will happen to me? Somehow, reading Elisa’s entry made it worst for me.
All I can do is to pray. Pray for his safe return. Pray for long fruitful lives together. Pray that we will always be happy and will grow together.
Sorry if I am mushy. 15 minutes to go and I’m counting the seconds.
Can’t wait to be in his arms again.
Welcome home honey. You’ve been sorely missed
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
Visiting
So my in laws were coming here. First, we have to get a visa for them. Now in most other countries, getting a visa merely requires the applicant to go to the embassy, fill up a form and perhaps show them your airplane tickets. That is not the case here. The potential visitor has to have a local sponsor, to sponsor their visa here. Being expats ourselves, my beloved's company has to sponsor his parents and apply their visa on our behalf. Here.
Now you'd think we could go to the relevant office to apply it ourselves. No no. In his company there is a special department labelled "Government Relations" who deal with such things. And you'd have to deal with them.
There is something about the local culture here that they are adversed about telling you the bad news. So once the offices reopened after the 2 weeks AidilAdha holidays, he spoke to them on the Monday to ask for the visa.
"Insyallah Wednesday," they said.
Of course Wednesday came and they then said, "Well it will be the following Monday the earliest."
La di da.
And there is only one direct flight from KL. Only on Sundays.
So Monday came and we got the letter confirming that their visa has been approved. We faxed that letter back to KL.
In KL, they contacted the Embassy, hoping that they could get the visa stamped on their passports. Opps. No they said, they have not received a letter of notification yet, so they cannot issue the visa.
Huh? Shouldn't all this information be computerized?
La di da. A few more days of frantic phone calls, pacing the floor etc. Finally they got the visa on Friday. Allowing them to fly here on Sunday.
Just so you know, there are no tourists here. Tourists are not welcomed here. And only our respective parents will be allowed to visit us here.
*sigh*
bersabarjelah
Now you'd think we could go to the relevant office to apply it ourselves. No no. In his company there is a special department labelled "Government Relations" who deal with such things. And you'd have to deal with them.
There is something about the local culture here that they are adversed about telling you the bad news. So once the offices reopened after the 2 weeks AidilAdha holidays, he spoke to them on the Monday to ask for the visa.
"Insyallah Wednesday," they said.
Of course Wednesday came and they then said, "Well it will be the following Monday the earliest."
La di da.
And there is only one direct flight from KL. Only on Sundays.
So Monday came and we got the letter confirming that their visa has been approved. We faxed that letter back to KL.
In KL, they contacted the Embassy, hoping that they could get the visa stamped on their passports. Opps. No they said, they have not received a letter of notification yet, so they cannot issue the visa.
Huh? Shouldn't all this information be computerized?
La di da. A few more days of frantic phone calls, pacing the floor etc. Finally they got the visa on Friday. Allowing them to fly here on Sunday.
Just so you know, there are no tourists here. Tourists are not welcomed here. And only our respective parents will be allowed to visit us here.
*sigh*
bersabarjelah
Sunday, January 15, 2006
Haj: Some Lessons for the World
If only we practice what our religion requires of us, and without overdoing it.
Haj: Some Lessons for the World
Dr. Khaled Batarfi, kbatarfi@al— madina.com
Haj was an educating and ennobling experience. Like my last three holy journeys, I learned a lot about myself, ourselves and the world we live in. Here are some of the lessons.
Haj is an occasion where people of all colors, races and backgrounds live together, move as one, and do the same thing, the same way, at the same time. You can’t feel superior to others if you have to be an integral part of their thoughts, feelings and actions. It doesn’t matter here if you are from a better economic or social class, or have higher position or education. It doesn’t make a difference if you are culturally more sophisticated, elegant or better looking. Under the sunny sky of Makkah, in the squeezed crowd of millions, in the simple two-piece white dress everyone looks the same.
In the holy places you forget who you are and where you came from, at least in your relations with the others.
I saw men and women perform the same rituals at the same space and time. Women did not have to cover their faces. In fact, they were required not to.
No religious police, rules or regulations prevent them from doing what they had to do in the same place as men and with men. No one tells them to stay behind to take care of home and children. No one dares say they are lesser creatures than men, and should not be part of men’s tougher and superior world. In Haj, men and women are as equal as children of Allah can be.
If we could go back to our lives with such sense! If we were to give our women what Islam gave them! If we decided to stop mixing our Dark Age tribal traditions with the pure Islam of Khadeeja, Aisha and the great women at the time of the Prophet (peace be upon him) and his caliphs!
There was no political or social enmity during the Haj. I saw Indians, Pakistanis and Kashmiris share the same tents and mosques. They helped each other and cared for one another. Iraqis and Kuwaitis, Sudanese of all tribes and races, Syrians and Lebanese, Moroccans and Algerians and many others who came from warring places were united under the blessings of one merciful God. If only the leaders of these nations would learn a lesson from this! If they could unite their peoples as they were united in Makkah under the banner of peaceful, encompassing and tolerating Islam!
Religious rivalry was absent, too. Muslims of all sects were praying to the same God, toward the same direction, behind the same imam. They were identical in their appearance, performance and feelings. Sunnis and Shiites, Salafis and Sufis, conservatives and liberals ate together, walked together, and prayed together. They didn’t ask, they didn’t tell, and they didn’t argue about the history of differences that occurred some thousand and four hundred years ago. If we could take that home with us, stop digging the past, and start planning for the future!
And there was no politics. We all prayed for a united and liberated Muslim nation. We prayed for the freedom of occupied Palestinians, Iraqis, Chechens, Kashmiris and Afghanis. But there was no hatred of the non-Muslims. There were no calls for jihad against the peaceful nations and peoples of the non-Muslim world. For almost a week, we were busy praying for the betterment of our families and societies, and cared less for the confusing and dividing politics of governments and leaders. If we could continue to do so after Haj! If we could focus more on the improvement of ourselves rather than on the destruction of our perceived enemies and rivals!
In Makkah we all learned that the world is so small, life is so short, and death can be so close. I faced death with many others more than once. Most of us survived. If we could appreciate that and always remember that only love can make our lives worth living!
In the holy sites, we learned to resolve our differences peacefully. We had to share tight spaces, meager resources, and tough environment. Many pushed their way through tight crowds; others lost their temper standing in long lines for food or water. But every time we reminded ourselves that Allah won’t accept our Haj if we don’t make peace with each other.
Problems were quickly solved and compromises made with apologetic, friendly smiles. If we could always remember that most things are not worth fighting for! And that with more humility, less intransigence, and some compromises we could all live a better, happier and peaceful life!
If we all, Muslims and non-Muslims, could learn what we, the pilgrims did, our world will definitely be a much better and happier place!
(http://kbatarfi/blogspot.com)
Haj: Some Lessons for the World
Dr. Khaled Batarfi, kbatarfi@al— madina.com
Haj was an educating and ennobling experience. Like my last three holy journeys, I learned a lot about myself, ourselves and the world we live in. Here are some of the lessons.
Haj is an occasion where people of all colors, races and backgrounds live together, move as one, and do the same thing, the same way, at the same time. You can’t feel superior to others if you have to be an integral part of their thoughts, feelings and actions. It doesn’t matter here if you are from a better economic or social class, or have higher position or education. It doesn’t make a difference if you are culturally more sophisticated, elegant or better looking. Under the sunny sky of Makkah, in the squeezed crowd of millions, in the simple two-piece white dress everyone looks the same.
In the holy places you forget who you are and where you came from, at least in your relations with the others.
I saw men and women perform the same rituals at the same space and time. Women did not have to cover their faces. In fact, they were required not to.
No religious police, rules or regulations prevent them from doing what they had to do in the same place as men and with men. No one tells them to stay behind to take care of home and children. No one dares say they are lesser creatures than men, and should not be part of men’s tougher and superior world. In Haj, men and women are as equal as children of Allah can be.
If we could go back to our lives with such sense! If we were to give our women what Islam gave them! If we decided to stop mixing our Dark Age tribal traditions with the pure Islam of Khadeeja, Aisha and the great women at the time of the Prophet (peace be upon him) and his caliphs!
There was no political or social enmity during the Haj. I saw Indians, Pakistanis and Kashmiris share the same tents and mosques. They helped each other and cared for one another. Iraqis and Kuwaitis, Sudanese of all tribes and races, Syrians and Lebanese, Moroccans and Algerians and many others who came from warring places were united under the blessings of one merciful God. If only the leaders of these nations would learn a lesson from this! If they could unite their peoples as they were united in Makkah under the banner of peaceful, encompassing and tolerating Islam!
Religious rivalry was absent, too. Muslims of all sects were praying to the same God, toward the same direction, behind the same imam. They were identical in their appearance, performance and feelings. Sunnis and Shiites, Salafis and Sufis, conservatives and liberals ate together, walked together, and prayed together. They didn’t ask, they didn’t tell, and they didn’t argue about the history of differences that occurred some thousand and four hundred years ago. If we could take that home with us, stop digging the past, and start planning for the future!
And there was no politics. We all prayed for a united and liberated Muslim nation. We prayed for the freedom of occupied Palestinians, Iraqis, Chechens, Kashmiris and Afghanis. But there was no hatred of the non-Muslims. There were no calls for jihad against the peaceful nations and peoples of the non-Muslim world. For almost a week, we were busy praying for the betterment of our families and societies, and cared less for the confusing and dividing politics of governments and leaders. If we could continue to do so after Haj! If we could focus more on the improvement of ourselves rather than on the destruction of our perceived enemies and rivals!
In Makkah we all learned that the world is so small, life is so short, and death can be so close. I faced death with many others more than once. Most of us survived. If we could appreciate that and always remember that only love can make our lives worth living!
In the holy sites, we learned to resolve our differences peacefully. We had to share tight spaces, meager resources, and tough environment. Many pushed their way through tight crowds; others lost their temper standing in long lines for food or water. But every time we reminded ourselves that Allah won’t accept our Haj if we don’t make peace with each other.
Problems were quickly solved and compromises made with apologetic, friendly smiles. If we could always remember that most things are not worth fighting for! And that with more humility, less intransigence, and some compromises we could all live a better, happier and peaceful life!
If we all, Muslims and non-Muslims, could learn what we, the pilgrims did, our world will definitely be a much better and happier place!
(http://kbatarfi/blogspot.com)
Monday, January 09, 2006
Happy New Year, Selamat hari Raya Aidiladha
2006 has ushered in a new era for me. For now I have to bow and take a break from blogging. Will try to finish the Off the Beaten track entry as a tribute to my ustaz friends who helped me on my journey for Hajj last year. But it might take a while for me to publsh them.
Those who left encouraging comments, I thank you. I would like to wish everyone a happy new year. May the new year bring in lots of happiness for you all.
Those who left encouraging comments, I thank you. I would like to wish everyone a happy new year. May the new year bring in lots of happiness for you all.
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Off the beaten track I
The Hajj season is starting again and I am somewhat sad that we are not able to perform the pilgrimage this year. But I have to accept its all about seru and rezeki. Perhaps I was not diligent enough to answer the calls of Nabi Ibrahim. But I hope we would have the opportunity again next year and the years to come, Insyallah.
In our journey towards performing our pilgrimage last year, I was blessed enough to have met a few of future Ustazs, students of the (in)famous I/mam University here. Unlike the pilgrims in Malaysia who went for months of kursus, our training and preparation was fairly short so we depended a lot of guidance from our Ustaz and the student ustaz. What I found most amazing when hanging out with them is how non judgmental they are. How kind and honest they were in sharing with us their wealth of knowledge. They knew me way before I started wearing my scarf (I am still a scarf wearer in training.) And none of them said anything but kind words towards me. (Unlike some people who pre-judged me from the fact that I didn’t wear a scarf but that’s another story.)
These men (although I call them boys) had to go through such struggles in order to complete their degrees. And often many went home without completing their studies. Either because they missed their wives and children at home, or they failed to progress for the following year or even had to rot in a jail somewhere, because of the implied association they seemed to have being in the University. (That’s again another story.)
Alawi was introduced to us by the other Malay students’ in the local university. He was from Cambodia and his mum lived in Malaysia. I often found it very difficult to understand him because he spoke Melayu Campa. I can barely understand the Trengganu and Kelantanese accent, the patani accent is a big stretch and thus the Melayu campa was just often beyond me.
But the stories he told us about his life was just so touching, so trying that I often have to salute the boys who came all the way to further their studies here. In this trying times, when Islam is very much under close scrutiny.
Although Alawi was born in Cambodia, he had followed his mum to Malaysia at a young age. However when it was time to register for his citizenship in Malaysia, his mum had failed to do so, thinking that he was still young and didn’t really need the papers. So his mum managed to become a Malaysian, but he remained a Cambodian.
One fine day, there was a raid by the immigration officials in Kelantan and since Alawi didn’t have the proper papers, he was put in jail. The was there for two years before he was released. He told us how he became the imam at the surau in jail, and as long as he kept his head down, they left him alone. His mum did occasionally come to visit him and he often pleaded to her to find a way to get him out of the jail. But without the economic resources, the connections or even the knowledge about the proper system, she was unable to help.
After 2 years he was released and he tried to make his way back to Cambodia via the inland route.
But a man without the economic resources or proper papers somehow met a lot of sharks on the streets, because whom often tried to prey on his vulnerability. After successfully crossing the border into Thailand, he met a cab driver who offered to “help” him. At a price of course!
But alas, there were many checkpoints along the way and he was often arrested for not having proper documentation, and put in jail. Sometimes it was a short term “stay,” other times it was longer.
I did ask him what the conditions were like in the jails that he has been, and he told me that at least the jails in Malaysia were clean and he had no problem practicing his faith. Across the border however, it was slightly more difficult because the jails were not as clean and the people were less understanding his need to read the Quran.
To cut the story short, he finally managed to return to Cambodia. After getting his papers sorted out, he applied for a scholarship to study here and got a place in the language program at the local University here.
But alas, his grade did not qualify him into the degree program at the University and so the hajj trip last year was his last as a student here.
I often ask myself, if I could have endured the journeys he had gone through. And I think its most unlikely. But what was most inspiring to me that throughout all that, his faith is still intact, if not its even stronger, and it has inspired him to pass the word of Allah and the Quran as his life’s mission.
In our journey towards performing our pilgrimage last year, I was blessed enough to have met a few of future Ustazs, students of the (in)famous I/mam University here. Unlike the pilgrims in Malaysia who went for months of kursus, our training and preparation was fairly short so we depended a lot of guidance from our Ustaz and the student ustaz. What I found most amazing when hanging out with them is how non judgmental they are. How kind and honest they were in sharing with us their wealth of knowledge. They knew me way before I started wearing my scarf (I am still a scarf wearer in training.) And none of them said anything but kind words towards me. (Unlike some people who pre-judged me from the fact that I didn’t wear a scarf but that’s another story.)
These men (although I call them boys) had to go through such struggles in order to complete their degrees. And often many went home without completing their studies. Either because they missed their wives and children at home, or they failed to progress for the following year or even had to rot in a jail somewhere, because of the implied association they seemed to have being in the University. (That’s again another story.)
Alawi was introduced to us by the other Malay students’ in the local university. He was from Cambodia and his mum lived in Malaysia. I often found it very difficult to understand him because he spoke Melayu Campa. I can barely understand the Trengganu and Kelantanese accent, the patani accent is a big stretch and thus the Melayu campa was just often beyond me.
But the stories he told us about his life was just so touching, so trying that I often have to salute the boys who came all the way to further their studies here. In this trying times, when Islam is very much under close scrutiny.
Although Alawi was born in Cambodia, he had followed his mum to Malaysia at a young age. However when it was time to register for his citizenship in Malaysia, his mum had failed to do so, thinking that he was still young and didn’t really need the papers. So his mum managed to become a Malaysian, but he remained a Cambodian.
One fine day, there was a raid by the immigration officials in Kelantan and since Alawi didn’t have the proper papers, he was put in jail. The was there for two years before he was released. He told us how he became the imam at the surau in jail, and as long as he kept his head down, they left him alone. His mum did occasionally come to visit him and he often pleaded to her to find a way to get him out of the jail. But without the economic resources, the connections or even the knowledge about the proper system, she was unable to help.
After 2 years he was released and he tried to make his way back to Cambodia via the inland route.
But a man without the economic resources or proper papers somehow met a lot of sharks on the streets, because whom often tried to prey on his vulnerability. After successfully crossing the border into Thailand, he met a cab driver who offered to “help” him. At a price of course!
But alas, there were many checkpoints along the way and he was often arrested for not having proper documentation, and put in jail. Sometimes it was a short term “stay,” other times it was longer.
I did ask him what the conditions were like in the jails that he has been, and he told me that at least the jails in Malaysia were clean and he had no problem practicing his faith. Across the border however, it was slightly more difficult because the jails were not as clean and the people were less understanding his need to read the Quran.
To cut the story short, he finally managed to return to Cambodia. After getting his papers sorted out, he applied for a scholarship to study here and got a place in the language program at the local University here.
But alas, his grade did not qualify him into the degree program at the University and so the hajj trip last year was his last as a student here.
I often ask myself, if I could have endured the journeys he had gone through. And I think its most unlikely. But what was most inspiring to me that throughout all that, his faith is still intact, if not its even stronger, and it has inspired him to pass the word of Allah and the Quran as his life’s mission.
Saturday, December 24, 2005
Do you want ALL your friends to know your blog?
I was reading this thread from AuntyN and somehow the topic resonates well with me. I have been on a blogging hiatus for a while now partly because I didn’t really have a topic to blog about, or rather I didn’t have any topic to share with the world.
Unlike Arena who had qualms about telling her husband about her blog, mine knew I had one from the very beginning. Well partly because I started blogging when we were living apart, so it was a convenient way for him to know whats going on with me. (Hahahah this a 20th century relationship where a husband has to read the wife’s blog to find out whats going on with her . ;))
My beloved often asked me, so what happens when the people whom you blogged about find out about your blog? My answer had often been, well I am very careful to blog about the people I meet here and hope none of them here find my blog ;)
But I know exactly how AuntyN feel when people closer to you (in physical contact that is rather than emotional ties) find out about your blog. Suddenly all your thoughts have been decoded by you for them to read. In fact for the longest time I was most uncomfortable when friends back home found out about my blog. Funny isn’t it, it was OK for me for the world of strangers to read my blog but it was most uncomfortable when people who actually know me in real life read my blog. (Especially if they are the people you want to bitch aka blog about ;))
So why do I blog? Often it is my place to express my thoughts, which often includes whingeing. And unfortunately it often includes the people around me in the line of fire.
So I try very hard not to post whinny, complaining entries all the time but often its easier for me to express my frustration and anger rather than telling people about my happiness. Why? Partly because I made sure that I do not to appear to be boasting. Perhaps its because misery loves company, but I often find that when people read about your latest shopping spree or conquest, they tend to interpret it as you bragging. And I don’t like to brag.
Apparently by blogging, one can attain new friends and even more disturbing, even enemies (Another blogger will tell you she got herself a stalker!). One reader kindly told me that the person shall not be visiting or reading my blog anymore, to which I replied, if that’s what you wish so be it, to which the other person replied, “Sombongnya!” I was just flabbergasted! What did that person expect me to do? To beg him/her to please please please continue to read my blog?
Just because they’ve read my blog, they claim to know what I am all about!
A few of the fellow bloggers whose blog I read have ceased or paused blogging for now and I’m wandering if I am going through the same path. But I do enjoy reading some of my fellow bloggers’ entries and it seemed unfair to just read their blogs without writing some myself.
Perhaps I will just content with writing fewer entries, whenever I had the time or the train of though to piece words together to form proper sentences ;)
Unlike Arena who had qualms about telling her husband about her blog, mine knew I had one from the very beginning. Well partly because I started blogging when we were living apart, so it was a convenient way for him to know whats going on with me. (Hahahah this a 20th century relationship where a husband has to read the wife’s blog to find out whats going on with her . ;))
My beloved often asked me, so what happens when the people whom you blogged about find out about your blog? My answer had often been, well I am very careful to blog about the people I meet here and hope none of them here find my blog ;)
But I know exactly how AuntyN feel when people closer to you (in physical contact that is rather than emotional ties) find out about your blog. Suddenly all your thoughts have been decoded by you for them to read. In fact for the longest time I was most uncomfortable when friends back home found out about my blog. Funny isn’t it, it was OK for me for the world of strangers to read my blog but it was most uncomfortable when people who actually know me in real life read my blog. (Especially if they are the people you want to bitch aka blog about ;))
So why do I blog? Often it is my place to express my thoughts, which often includes whingeing. And unfortunately it often includes the people around me in the line of fire.
So I try very hard not to post whinny, complaining entries all the time but often its easier for me to express my frustration and anger rather than telling people about my happiness. Why? Partly because I made sure that I do not to appear to be boasting. Perhaps its because misery loves company, but I often find that when people read about your latest shopping spree or conquest, they tend to interpret it as you bragging. And I don’t like to brag.
Apparently by blogging, one can attain new friends and even more disturbing, even enemies (Another blogger will tell you she got herself a stalker!). One reader kindly told me that the person shall not be visiting or reading my blog anymore, to which I replied, if that’s what you wish so be it, to which the other person replied, “Sombongnya!” I was just flabbergasted! What did that person expect me to do? To beg him/her to please please please continue to read my blog?
Just because they’ve read my blog, they claim to know what I am all about!
A few of the fellow bloggers whose blog I read have ceased or paused blogging for now and I’m wandering if I am going through the same path. But I do enjoy reading some of my fellow bloggers’ entries and it seemed unfair to just read their blogs without writing some myself.
Perhaps I will just content with writing fewer entries, whenever I had the time or the train of though to piece words together to form proper sentences ;)
Sunday, December 18, 2005
Reality TV
I guess you can say I am hooked on them. What's the attraction of reality TV you may ask? Perhaps for me is the voyeur aspect of it, how different people say different things to each other, and when push comes to shove, what they actually say there is different from the whispers they had in private.
My first experience of Reality TV was the Big Brother show in the UK. I think the winner's name was Kate, but it was Jade who formed a more lasting impression on me.
Survivor Guatemala
I cannot tell you how relieved I am that Stephanie didn't win. All she can say about her behaviour was, "I play the game the best way I know how." By backstabbing people? She had no qualms what so ever about accepting the rewards that the other competitors shared with her, and what does she do in return? Vote them right out as soon as she can. There is no such thing as loyalty and gratefulness in this person. And the lies she tells them. She defends herself by saying that at the time she was saying something, she really believed it and its her prerogative to change her mind. So be it, but thats why you didn't win girl! Because people can't trust you. You're just a two faced being.
Quotable quote. "With you, you can be the best friend with that person until the tribal council and you'd vote them out."
But perhaps this is more a reflection of me than that of her. I dislike people who are all smiles in front of you, and the minute your back is turned, it all comes out.
"Ohhhhh you're the bestest friend in the world." And then, "I can't stand that woman! She is so clingy!"
The Apprentice
Randall was hired! Good for him. But I was just amazed that he opposed the idea that Mr Trump hired Rebecca as well. Why not, I thought? I guess he didn't want to share the limelight with someone else. Wanted all the limelight and the attention on himself.
All in all, I realize that I don't have the toughness and the hunger that these people have for this sort of success. Does it mean that I am less ambitious? Perhaps I lack the killer instinct to win? To become a millionaire?
I did ask myself if I would ever join The Sole Survivor or The Apprentice and I decided that I probably won't. Aside from the fact that they don't have proper flushing toilets for the survivors, I can't stand all the politicking going about. The changing sides and alliances.
As for The Apprentice? I don't think Mr Trump will hire me. I'm not pretty enough nor tough enough, neither hungry enough.
I like my place at the couch in front of the TV too much ;)
My first experience of Reality TV was the Big Brother show in the UK. I think the winner's name was Kate, but it was Jade who formed a more lasting impression on me.
Survivor Guatemala
I cannot tell you how relieved I am that Stephanie didn't win. All she can say about her behaviour was, "I play the game the best way I know how." By backstabbing people? She had no qualms what so ever about accepting the rewards that the other competitors shared with her, and what does she do in return? Vote them right out as soon as she can. There is no such thing as loyalty and gratefulness in this person. And the lies she tells them. She defends herself by saying that at the time she was saying something, she really believed it and its her prerogative to change her mind. So be it, but thats why you didn't win girl! Because people can't trust you. You're just a two faced being.
Quotable quote. "With you, you can be the best friend with that person until the tribal council and you'd vote them out."
But perhaps this is more a reflection of me than that of her. I dislike people who are all smiles in front of you, and the minute your back is turned, it all comes out.
"Ohhhhh you're the bestest friend in the world." And then, "I can't stand that woman! She is so clingy!"
The Apprentice
Randall was hired! Good for him. But I was just amazed that he opposed the idea that Mr Trump hired Rebecca as well. Why not, I thought? I guess he didn't want to share the limelight with someone else. Wanted all the limelight and the attention on himself.
All in all, I realize that I don't have the toughness and the hunger that these people have for this sort of success. Does it mean that I am less ambitious? Perhaps I lack the killer instinct to win? To become a millionaire?
I did ask myself if I would ever join The Sole Survivor or The Apprentice and I decided that I probably won't. Aside from the fact that they don't have proper flushing toilets for the survivors, I can't stand all the politicking going about. The changing sides and alliances.
As for The Apprentice? I don't think Mr Trump will hire me. I'm not pretty enough nor tough enough, neither hungry enough.
I like my place at the couch in front of the TV too much ;)
Saturday, December 17, 2005
Gas expunging marathon
I know I have been neglecting my blog lately. Somehow the words don't come easy these days and I am on a quilting roll. The merchandize I ordered online arrived, 3 months late and my quilting teacher has agreed to start teaching again. So I am currently expressing myself in other ways ;)
We had a very slow day yesterday. What is a slow day you may wonder and it went something like this. I woke up feeling hungry and asked him to get me a bowl of cereal. He mixed the Vogel Soy and linseed cereal with some Power Breakfast blueberry cereal. HAH! Power indeed!
I went back to sleep while he went out. When he came back, I asked him what's for lunch. He was planning on making some roast beef and mashed potatoes and we thought of inviting some friends over to share the roast. Our friends had other plans, and we shelved the idea of making roast.Not for anything, the joint is too large for two people and we would have too much leftover if he just cooked for the two of us.
And then I had a brilliantly lazy idea. We called the restaurant to order our lunch. I had an English breakfast (beef bacon, sausages, scrambled eggs, tomatoes and mushroom) while he had a sirloin steak with mashed potatoes and vegetables. We ate while watching TV. He had borrowed a complete Star Trek DVD set and was having a Trekkie marathon. I felt drowsy after the meal and dozed off again.
Remember that "power" cereal we had earlier. Somehow it made us fart all the time! And the worst part was when we had a farting competition under the sheets! So whenever one of us got out of the sheets, some "wind" escaped! Imagine the smell!
But at that time we didn't realize that perhaps the high fiber cereals were causing the gas wars and we decided to share another bowl of the cereal.
And imagine the "competition" we had throughout the night!
On the bright side, the trip to the loo was much easier this morning! Hehehe!
I guess one doesn't have to have baked beans in order to get gas ;)
We had a very slow day yesterday. What is a slow day you may wonder and it went something like this. I woke up feeling hungry and asked him to get me a bowl of cereal. He mixed the Vogel Soy and linseed cereal with some Power Breakfast blueberry cereal. HAH! Power indeed!
I went back to sleep while he went out. When he came back, I asked him what's for lunch. He was planning on making some roast beef and mashed potatoes and we thought of inviting some friends over to share the roast. Our friends had other plans, and we shelved the idea of making roast.Not for anything, the joint is too large for two people and we would have too much leftover if he just cooked for the two of us.
And then I had a brilliantly lazy idea. We called the restaurant to order our lunch. I had an English breakfast (beef bacon, sausages, scrambled eggs, tomatoes and mushroom) while he had a sirloin steak with mashed potatoes and vegetables. We ate while watching TV. He had borrowed a complete Star Trek DVD set and was having a Trekkie marathon. I felt drowsy after the meal and dozed off again.
Remember that "power" cereal we had earlier. Somehow it made us fart all the time! And the worst part was when we had a farting competition under the sheets! So whenever one of us got out of the sheets, some "wind" escaped! Imagine the smell!
But at that time we didn't realize that perhaps the high fiber cereals were causing the gas wars and we decided to share another bowl of the cereal.
And imagine the "competition" we had throughout the night!
On the bright side, the trip to the loo was much easier this morning! Hehehe!
I guess one doesn't have to have baked beans in order to get gas ;)
Sunday, December 04, 2005
Is your job good enough to enable you to get married?
Masa kecik-kecik mak selalu pesan pada anak lelaki. Belajar rajin-rajin, dah besar boleh dapat kerje yang elok. Senang nak kawin nanti ….
S has just recently came from KL, now working as a GM of a local hypermarket. He shared with us some of his experiences. This being a country with the unemployment rate of 40%, import a lot of foreign labour. S told us that they do have some locals working as shelf stackers. (Which surprised us of course, no self respecting local would do such a menial job often designated to workers from a 3rd world country.) But their turnover is extremely high, and the rate of absentism is just unbelievable. At least two will resign each week, and at least two will call in sick everyday.
Being new to the country and its culture, S tried to find out why this is so. He was told that as a shelf stacker, the local male will have no chance of getting married. No over protective father-in-law will allow his daughter to be married of to a shelf stacker. Plus he wouldn’t be able to afford the dowry and the wedding expenses anyways on that salary. So most of the time, the young local youth would take up the job as a shelf stacker while waiting for a job with the government. As soon, as they think they are getting a better job, they’d quit. Suffice to say that their morale is low at work, and are more interested in the pay cheque than the work.
However, it's different for the post of the cashier. There is more prestige in being a cashier. If the male joins the company at a young age, hopefully by the time he is ready to be married, he would have been promoted to a supervisory position, and thus giving him a respectable job for marriage material.
Now if you think this is a figment of my imagination you’d have to read this piece of news.
Woman Demands Divorce From Chef
Why do you think he was divorced? Because working as a chef, despite its higher salary, is considered demeaning, unlike working as a security officer, that affords the husband a uniform, allows him to show some form of power lording over other people.
Go figure.
I’d have thought that in a country that has a 40% unemployment rate, its citizens would be less fussy in choosing a career. But apparently that’s not quite the case here. I was astounded to find out that there are 1 million F{l|pina workers in the Kingdom either as domestic help, the health industry, the service industry and the restaurants etc.
There are 8.8 million foreigners in the country, the Labour Minister disclosed in May, a figure significantly higher than any that the government has previously reported. With an indigenous population of about 17 million, this means that there is almost one foreign resident for every two citizens.
The largest expatriate communities in the country include one million to 1.5 million people each from Bangladesh, India and Pakistan, and another 900,000 each from Egypt, Sudan and the Philippines. There are also 500,000 workers from Indonesia, and another 350,000 from Sri Lanka, the majority of whom are women.
Source
So what sort of jobs do the locals go for? Normally in managerial positions in the private sector, a stable job with the government. preferably in the police or armed force.
The local government recently has imposed some laws not very different from the bumi protection laws in Malaysia. That a certain proportion of the work force must consist of the local labour. Does it work? It does provide income for the locals but whether or not its effective it's something else.
I remember going into a restaurant and there was a local male at the counter. We waited to be greeted but he was silent. So I approached him, saying that we needed a table. He handed a take away menu to us. And then came the waiter who promptly showed us to a table.
So we asked him, what was the local boy in the front supposed to do?
“Oh that’s just decoration,” he said casually.
We had to laugh. Apparently there was a new ruling that each restaurant must employ at least two locals. So what the restaurant did was to employ them and put them in front.
Then again all this could be considered as a blessing in disguise!
Ape taknye pasal depa malas nak buat keje lah kami dapat menumpang mencari periuk nasi di sini. Kalau semua depa rajin dan pandai buat sendiri takdelah peluang untuk rakyat negeri lain datang untuk mencari makan.
S has just recently came from KL, now working as a GM of a local hypermarket. He shared with us some of his experiences. This being a country with the unemployment rate of 40%, import a lot of foreign labour. S told us that they do have some locals working as shelf stackers. (Which surprised us of course, no self respecting local would do such a menial job often designated to workers from a 3rd world country.) But their turnover is extremely high, and the rate of absentism is just unbelievable. At least two will resign each week, and at least two will call in sick everyday.
Being new to the country and its culture, S tried to find out why this is so. He was told that as a shelf stacker, the local male will have no chance of getting married. No over protective father-in-law will allow his daughter to be married of to a shelf stacker. Plus he wouldn’t be able to afford the dowry and the wedding expenses anyways on that salary. So most of the time, the young local youth would take up the job as a shelf stacker while waiting for a job with the government. As soon, as they think they are getting a better job, they’d quit. Suffice to say that their morale is low at work, and are more interested in the pay cheque than the work.
However, it's different for the post of the cashier. There is more prestige in being a cashier. If the male joins the company at a young age, hopefully by the time he is ready to be married, he would have been promoted to a supervisory position, and thus giving him a respectable job for marriage material.
Now if you think this is a figment of my imagination you’d have to read this piece of news.
Woman Demands Divorce From Chef
Why do you think he was divorced? Because working as a chef, despite its higher salary, is considered demeaning, unlike working as a security officer, that affords the husband a uniform, allows him to show some form of power lording over other people.
Go figure.
I’d have thought that in a country that has a 40% unemployment rate, its citizens would be less fussy in choosing a career. But apparently that’s not quite the case here. I was astounded to find out that there are 1 million F{l|pina workers in the Kingdom either as domestic help, the health industry, the service industry and the restaurants etc.
There are 8.8 million foreigners in the country, the Labour Minister disclosed in May, a figure significantly higher than any that the government has previously reported. With an indigenous population of about 17 million, this means that there is almost one foreign resident for every two citizens.
The largest expatriate communities in the country include one million to 1.5 million people each from Bangladesh, India and Pakistan, and another 900,000 each from Egypt, Sudan and the Philippines. There are also 500,000 workers from Indonesia, and another 350,000 from Sri Lanka, the majority of whom are women.
Source
So what sort of jobs do the locals go for? Normally in managerial positions in the private sector, a stable job with the government. preferably in the police or armed force.
The local government recently has imposed some laws not very different from the bumi protection laws in Malaysia. That a certain proportion of the work force must consist of the local labour. Does it work? It does provide income for the locals but whether or not its effective it's something else.
I remember going into a restaurant and there was a local male at the counter. We waited to be greeted but he was silent. So I approached him, saying that we needed a table. He handed a take away menu to us. And then came the waiter who promptly showed us to a table.
So we asked him, what was the local boy in the front supposed to do?
“Oh that’s just decoration,” he said casually.
We had to laugh. Apparently there was a new ruling that each restaurant must employ at least two locals. So what the restaurant did was to employ them and put them in front.
Then again all this could be considered as a blessing in disguise!
Ape taknye pasal depa malas nak buat keje lah kami dapat menumpang mencari periuk nasi di sini. Kalau semua depa rajin dan pandai buat sendiri takdelah peluang untuk rakyat negeri lain datang untuk mencari makan.
Sunday, November 27, 2005
Blogspot blocked
So I logged in this morning to check out my blog and the regular blogs that I read. And what did I find? That the local ISP has blocked all access to all *.blogspot.com. Uh Uh.
Hope this is just a temporary ban. Grrrrrrr
Hope this is just a temporary ban. Grrrrrrr
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Another day, another life story
I was lazing on the couch when I heard my mobile phone rang. It was an unrecognizable number so I told Him to answer it for me. Thing is crank calls are very common in this country. Blame it on the idle youth. They have nothing better to do, and given the restrictions for the two genders to interact, they use modern technology to get to know each other.
The call came all the way from back home. It was HN. I met HN last August during a National Day gathering at the embassy. She had been in the Kingdom for over 6 months but had gone home every 2 months. She too had a difficult time adjusting to life here. In fact she got so physically sick that she had to fly home.
[Disclaimer: its not that the medical practices here is bad, its just that some people like the familiarity of their home country. Plus the pampering you can get from your other family members which you may not get here.]
HN told me that she called to wish me “Selamat hari raya and maaf zahir batin.” Which was nice of her, to have thought of me. So I asked her when she would be coming back here. And that’s when part of the story is told. I say part of the story because I didn’t quite get the whole story from her, because I didn’t know if she feels comfortable sharing them with me.
She told me that things are uncertain between her and her husband. It was fine when they were here, but the cracks began to show when they returned home for Eid. She didn’t get into further details and I didn’t probe further. She isn’t sure if she will ever come back here again, although some of her things are still here.
I was just stunned and very sad. I know marriages break down all the time, but somehow I find that being here, can sometimes break up marriages. Some wives can’t handle being idle while the husbands put long hours at work. Some chose long distance marriages and that in itself is another issue. Others well just can’t adjust to life here and blame it all on the husband, causing a disintegration of the relationship.
Well whatever it is HN, I wish you well. Thanks for making the effort to call me up, when you know you didn’t have to. I really appreciate it. I hope we can all pray for HN, hoping that everything will work out the best for her.
The call came all the way from back home. It was HN. I met HN last August during a National Day gathering at the embassy. She had been in the Kingdom for over 6 months but had gone home every 2 months. She too had a difficult time adjusting to life here. In fact she got so physically sick that she had to fly home.
[Disclaimer: its not that the medical practices here is bad, its just that some people like the familiarity of their home country. Plus the pampering you can get from your other family members which you may not get here.]
HN told me that she called to wish me “Selamat hari raya and maaf zahir batin.” Which was nice of her, to have thought of me. So I asked her when she would be coming back here. And that’s when part of the story is told. I say part of the story because I didn’t quite get the whole story from her, because I didn’t know if she feels comfortable sharing them with me.
She told me that things are uncertain between her and her husband. It was fine when they were here, but the cracks began to show when they returned home for Eid. She didn’t get into further details and I didn’t probe further. She isn’t sure if she will ever come back here again, although some of her things are still here.
I was just stunned and very sad. I know marriages break down all the time, but somehow I find that being here, can sometimes break up marriages. Some wives can’t handle being idle while the husbands put long hours at work. Some chose long distance marriages and that in itself is another issue. Others well just can’t adjust to life here and blame it all on the husband, causing a disintegration of the relationship.
Well whatever it is HN, I wish you well. Thanks for making the effort to call me up, when you know you didn’t have to. I really appreciate it. I hope we can all pray for HN, hoping that everything will work out the best for her.
Replies
Mel Ija,
Welcome to my blog. Sudan is quite interesting but I don't know how the experience will be for you. Please drop by my friend Ghazali's blog on my links because I believe he is in Sudan right now and he can tell you whats it is like down there.
For me, I will try anything once. Even though I was very skeptical and reluctant about moving here, but I told myself, how would I know if I would like it or not if I never try it. Yes the first three months was very hard, even for a normad like me (we've been moving around for the last 7 years), but I eventually adjusted myself to life here.
You just have to evaluate what sort of person you are, if you are comfortable enough stepping out of your regular comfort zone, and if you are willing to accept that many things can be different from what you are accustomed to.
Of course there is the economic factor as well, if the financial gain really outweighs the difficulties or dangers that you may have to face.
Good luck!
Lollies,
Gaduh mesti tetap gaduh :) Kalau tak nanti cemana nak make out opps I mean make up ;)
And I think you will definitely be able to find things to do.
Halela,
Wah cerita la gaks experience KakLela as expat! But its true about the $$$ part, if not memang lah dah lama balik kut.
Hi Has,
Thanks for dropping a comment.
Tp,
Good pointers indeed.
Cuma comment saya untuk pakai baju melayu di sini, mereka tak kenal pun. Ade sorang kawan kami memakai baju Melayu, bila naik teksi, driver tu tanya "Anta Bangladeshi?" Mungkin kerana kami di tengah-tengah padang pasir. Dan wanita pun tak boleh pakai baju kurung kerana mesti memakai abaya. Tetapi mungkin di negeri teluk yang lain tip ni lebih berguna.
Ya Laban itu enak lebih lebih lagi selepas memakan nasi kabsah atau nak minyak yang lain.
Tp ni masih tinggal di negeri Teluk? Ade blog yang boleh kami layari?
Terima kasih kerana sudi meninggalkan koment untuk semua.
Welcome to my blog. Sudan is quite interesting but I don't know how the experience will be for you. Please drop by my friend Ghazali's blog on my links because I believe he is in Sudan right now and he can tell you whats it is like down there.
For me, I will try anything once. Even though I was very skeptical and reluctant about moving here, but I told myself, how would I know if I would like it or not if I never try it. Yes the first three months was very hard, even for a normad like me (we've been moving around for the last 7 years), but I eventually adjusted myself to life here.
You just have to evaluate what sort of person you are, if you are comfortable enough stepping out of your regular comfort zone, and if you are willing to accept that many things can be different from what you are accustomed to.
Of course there is the economic factor as well, if the financial gain really outweighs the difficulties or dangers that you may have to face.
Good luck!
Lollies,
Gaduh mesti tetap gaduh :) Kalau tak nanti cemana nak make out opps I mean make up ;)
And I think you will definitely be able to find things to do.
Halela,
Wah cerita la gaks experience KakLela as expat! But its true about the $$$ part, if not memang lah dah lama balik kut.
Hi Has,
Thanks for dropping a comment.
Tp,
Good pointers indeed.
Cuma comment saya untuk pakai baju melayu di sini, mereka tak kenal pun. Ade sorang kawan kami memakai baju Melayu, bila naik teksi, driver tu tanya "Anta Bangladeshi?" Mungkin kerana kami di tengah-tengah padang pasir. Dan wanita pun tak boleh pakai baju kurung kerana mesti memakai abaya. Tetapi mungkin di negeri teluk yang lain tip ni lebih berguna.
Ya Laban itu enak lebih lebih lagi selepas memakan nasi kabsah atau nak minyak yang lain.
Tp ni masih tinggal di negeri Teluk? Ade blog yang boleh kami layari?
Terima kasih kerana sudi meninggalkan koment untuk semua.
Monday, November 21, 2005
Life as an expat wife a breeze?
I have been on a blogging hiatus. Partly its been a time constraint. Partly I just needed to think things through.
To the readers who have kindly commented. Thanks for your thoughts. I do appreciate them. Its not that I seek validation to my thoughts but its often interesting to see other people’s point of views and even their blogs.
Last Wednesday, I went to a neighbor’s birthday party. I don’t really like birthday parties because I am not a socially out going person myself, and sometimes I do find it hard to make conversation with some people who I have little in common with, except that we’re neighbors and we often say hello to each other at the pool. But anyways it was nice meeting up with some people. They commented how they haven’t seen me out and about for a long time and they thought I was away on holiday or something. I mumbled something about being busy teaching, quilting and hibernating (didn’t say blogging in case any of them found my blog hehehe) and they mentioned how much they missed me. Wow really? Did I really have such an impact on people’s lives that they missed not seeing me? It was nice to know or perhaps they were just being nice to me.
Through the loud music and the interruptions of people saying hello, I managed to have a short conversation with LN. LN was telling me about a couple who had just moved into the compound. They happened to be a fellow countrymen of mine. DF, the wife, has found moving here particularly hard. LN who lives above her has heard someone crying and throwing things about in the apartment. God bless LN and her kind heart, because that made LN try very hard to get in touch with her and even asked her over for coffee with another neighbor.
Apparently DF arrived just before Ramadhan (which happened to be a crazy time to arrive here because everything becomes topsy curvy) and has found the move incredible lonely without the support of friends and family. Her husband, like most of our husbands here, work till late. And as you already know, we women can’t really go out by ourselves to explore. And it being Ramadhan, everything is closed in the day anyways. It was her first time living outside her country. She had just quit her job before joining her husband here. So she had to come to terms with two things, being a woman of leisure, in a country that is hostile to women.
So LN asked me to call DF up and help her with the transition. Which I agreed to do. You see, one good thing about most of the women here (in our compound or within the expatriate community that is), is that we all understand how it was like when we first arrived in this country. How we found it difficult to adjust to the lifestyle here. And how we had to deal with culture shock. Most of us here came to accompany our husbands. Some were lucky enough to have made the decision jointly with their husbands. Others had no choice but to follow the husband’s posting because the husband’s employer had sent them there. (Of course there are women who chose to come to work here but I’d but them in a different category.)
I did remember my dearest’s boss telling him, there are two categories of wives who follow their husbands here. One type will hate it here and will leave almost as soon as they come. The other type, however will love it here and would hate it when it comes to the time for them to leave.
And he was right. Just recently we had a friend who has chosen to leave the country while the husband continues to work here, after trying to live here for just 6 months. More recently a Kakak (who was here to work a as a cook) was confiding in us that she wanted to leave at the end of this month, just after living here for 2 months. (At the moment she is extending the stay until after Hajj.)
So I called DF up and she told me how relieved she was to have heard from me. Apparently she has been told about me from a few people. Even the compound manager mentioned us but she didn’t know where we lived. She even asked her husband to walk round the compound, looking for someone who may look Malay. (Which would have been fruitless of course because I haven’t really gone out much especially during Ramadhan.)
She told me how she missed her family very much. She is very close with her mum, whom she still saw everyday even though she has been married for a while and living on her own. She misses her 7 year old nephew whom she talks to on the net everyday. She said her nephew even sometimes calls her “mama.” They are that close.
She was terrified of going out because she is often harassed by the Ar@b men. She feels that she is being stared at, or looked down at. She is not used to being mistaken as a F|l|pina.
DF related to me how a local man approached her and her husband as they were doing their grocery shopping. The man came to ask her husband, with a big grin on his face, “is this your wife?”
“Yes,” replied the husband.
But the local man apparently was not satisfied with that answer and proceeded to ask them 2 more times. Still with that cheeky grin on his face.
You see, DF and her husband is in a Muhibbah couple. She is an Amoi muallaf, while he is a Malay. Knowing how the local men here think, they probably thought that he was a B@ngla worker and she was the F|ilip[ina girl friend. And He might offer the girlfriend over for a price. DF is rather pretty, with her porcelain white skin, lustrous black hair and very slim figure. She looks very different from the local women here, and of course would elicit interest from the local lecherous men.
[Dislaimer: I am not saying that ALL local men are leacherous, but the local men who are lecherous here, have problems holding back and does not understand the concept of respect for a woman. Kang ade plak yang salah sangka cakap saya ni anti org sini!]
So she is quite terrified of going out by herself on the shopping bus, and had to depend on the husband to go out. The husband however, has had to put in long hours at work and by the time he reaches home, is too exhausted to go out again, to battle it out in the crazy traffic.
She said she was crying almost every other day, if not at least once a week. Even her husband found it hard to deal with her when he comes home seeing her black face everyday.
I tried my best to reassure her that we all go through a little bit of that when we come here. Despite having experience living abroad at different countries, I too had to go through the same things when I moved here myself. I told her that she needed to find something to keep herself busy, either go out and make friends on the shopping bus or find a hobby that will keep herself busy. Without new friends and something to do, surviving here would be difficult.
It will take some time for a woman who has been busy with her career, to suddenly find that she now has no focus in her life, no office to go to, no where to go to dress up for. She has to give herself some time to come to terms to that. And if she so wishes, she can try to find a job here.
Anyways, the reason I am sharing this story here, is that I hope the wives who are about to embark on the journey of becoming an expat wife can take a leaf out of DF’s book. You may go through a little bit of depression, you may go through a little bit of culture shock and you may start breaking down, questioning your existence as a woman here.
Once again I have to stress the importance of doing your research before coming. And if you don’t have any children to accompany you during the day, make sure you are comfortable being alone, being with yourself, and stepping out of your regular comfort zone. Keep an open mind and be prepared to face the idea that naturally everything in your new environment is very different from your home environment.
To the readers who have kindly commented. Thanks for your thoughts. I do appreciate them. Its not that I seek validation to my thoughts but its often interesting to see other people’s point of views and even their blogs.
Last Wednesday, I went to a neighbor’s birthday party. I don’t really like birthday parties because I am not a socially out going person myself, and sometimes I do find it hard to make conversation with some people who I have little in common with, except that we’re neighbors and we often say hello to each other at the pool. But anyways it was nice meeting up with some people. They commented how they haven’t seen me out and about for a long time and they thought I was away on holiday or something. I mumbled something about being busy teaching, quilting and hibernating (didn’t say blogging in case any of them found my blog hehehe) and they mentioned how much they missed me. Wow really? Did I really have such an impact on people’s lives that they missed not seeing me? It was nice to know or perhaps they were just being nice to me.
Through the loud music and the interruptions of people saying hello, I managed to have a short conversation with LN. LN was telling me about a couple who had just moved into the compound. They happened to be a fellow countrymen of mine. DF, the wife, has found moving here particularly hard. LN who lives above her has heard someone crying and throwing things about in the apartment. God bless LN and her kind heart, because that made LN try very hard to get in touch with her and even asked her over for coffee with another neighbor.
Apparently DF arrived just before Ramadhan (which happened to be a crazy time to arrive here because everything becomes topsy curvy) and has found the move incredible lonely without the support of friends and family. Her husband, like most of our husbands here, work till late. And as you already know, we women can’t really go out by ourselves to explore. And it being Ramadhan, everything is closed in the day anyways. It was her first time living outside her country. She had just quit her job before joining her husband here. So she had to come to terms with two things, being a woman of leisure, in a country that is hostile to women.
So LN asked me to call DF up and help her with the transition. Which I agreed to do. You see, one good thing about most of the women here (in our compound or within the expatriate community that is), is that we all understand how it was like when we first arrived in this country. How we found it difficult to adjust to the lifestyle here. And how we had to deal with culture shock. Most of us here came to accompany our husbands. Some were lucky enough to have made the decision jointly with their husbands. Others had no choice but to follow the husband’s posting because the husband’s employer had sent them there. (Of course there are women who chose to come to work here but I’d but them in a different category.)
I did remember my dearest’s boss telling him, there are two categories of wives who follow their husbands here. One type will hate it here and will leave almost as soon as they come. The other type, however will love it here and would hate it when it comes to the time for them to leave.
And he was right. Just recently we had a friend who has chosen to leave the country while the husband continues to work here, after trying to live here for just 6 months. More recently a Kakak (who was here to work a as a cook) was confiding in us that she wanted to leave at the end of this month, just after living here for 2 months. (At the moment she is extending the stay until after Hajj.)
So I called DF up and she told me how relieved she was to have heard from me. Apparently she has been told about me from a few people. Even the compound manager mentioned us but she didn’t know where we lived. She even asked her husband to walk round the compound, looking for someone who may look Malay. (Which would have been fruitless of course because I haven’t really gone out much especially during Ramadhan.)
She told me how she missed her family very much. She is very close with her mum, whom she still saw everyday even though she has been married for a while and living on her own. She misses her 7 year old nephew whom she talks to on the net everyday. She said her nephew even sometimes calls her “mama.” They are that close.
She was terrified of going out because she is often harassed by the Ar@b men. She feels that she is being stared at, or looked down at. She is not used to being mistaken as a F|l|pina.
DF related to me how a local man approached her and her husband as they were doing their grocery shopping. The man came to ask her husband, with a big grin on his face, “is this your wife?”
“Yes,” replied the husband.
But the local man apparently was not satisfied with that answer and proceeded to ask them 2 more times. Still with that cheeky grin on his face.
You see, DF and her husband is in a Muhibbah couple. She is an Amoi muallaf, while he is a Malay. Knowing how the local men here think, they probably thought that he was a B@ngla worker and she was the F|ilip[ina girl friend. And He might offer the girlfriend over for a price. DF is rather pretty, with her porcelain white skin, lustrous black hair and very slim figure. She looks very different from the local women here, and of course would elicit interest from the local lecherous men.
[Dislaimer: I am not saying that ALL local men are leacherous, but the local men who are lecherous here, have problems holding back and does not understand the concept of respect for a woman. Kang ade plak yang salah sangka cakap saya ni anti org sini!]
So she is quite terrified of going out by herself on the shopping bus, and had to depend on the husband to go out. The husband however, has had to put in long hours at work and by the time he reaches home, is too exhausted to go out again, to battle it out in the crazy traffic.
She said she was crying almost every other day, if not at least once a week. Even her husband found it hard to deal with her when he comes home seeing her black face everyday.
I tried my best to reassure her that we all go through a little bit of that when we come here. Despite having experience living abroad at different countries, I too had to go through the same things when I moved here myself. I told her that she needed to find something to keep herself busy, either go out and make friends on the shopping bus or find a hobby that will keep herself busy. Without new friends and something to do, surviving here would be difficult.
It will take some time for a woman who has been busy with her career, to suddenly find that she now has no focus in her life, no office to go to, no where to go to dress up for. She has to give herself some time to come to terms to that. And if she so wishes, she can try to find a job here.
Anyways, the reason I am sharing this story here, is that I hope the wives who are about to embark on the journey of becoming an expat wife can take a leaf out of DF’s book. You may go through a little bit of depression, you may go through a little bit of culture shock and you may start breaking down, questioning your existence as a woman here.
Once again I have to stress the importance of doing your research before coming. And if you don’t have any children to accompany you during the day, make sure you are comfortable being alone, being with yourself, and stepping out of your regular comfort zone. Keep an open mind and be prepared to face the idea that naturally everything in your new environment is very different from your home environment.
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Silver lining in the cloud
With every vile and nastyness I encounter, someone else shower me with generosity and kindness.
Such is life, one door closes and another opens.
Such is life, one door closes and another opens.
Monday, November 14, 2005
Somewhat upset
Why is it some people only care about how much they have been offended and not realize how much they have offended other people?
In some ways, this feel like a kindergarten tiff and I try to refuse to dignify it with a response or even an acknowledgement. But I guess when someone splash water on you, you will get somewhat wet. Although I want to ignore the person's attention seeking behaviour, somehow I cannot help cursing and feeling somewhat upset with this person.
Unlike other people who, when they did something wrong, immediately point fingers to other people, I try to look inside and ask myself. Was it me? If I am the insulting and the offensive one why do people come to me sometimes even to complain about her? Don't get me wrong, its not about taking sides, but I found that I'm not the only one who have problems getting along with her and I am too polite to tell her that.
Perhaps she should look into herself and ask why people stay away from her, instead of blaming on other people. She claims that the others are prejudiced because she is married to a local. But its difficult to hangout with someone who is constantly trying to preach instead of making a jovial conversation.
Example of a conversation:
A: Oh no, why are they bombing Amm@n now? What are the @l-q@edah up to? What do they want to achieve?
Her: No kak its not necessarily the @l-q@aeda doing all this. I disagree that its the Musl|ms are doing this. Perhaps its the IRA thats responsible.
Me: IRA? Gimme a break! (<--- comment considered sarcastic)
{grrrrrrr takde orang bagitau kat dia ka IRA nak buat apa pi bomb tempat tu! Tapi degil nyer pasal dia nak jugak tegakkan benang yang basah tu. Pasai apa? Dia tak nak ngaku yang buat bende ni orang @rab. Taulah dia kawin dgn orang @rab tapi tak semestinya kita criticize some sections of the society sama cam kita condem laki dia. Malas betul! Kalau tercakap skit tercritcize skit psal org Timur tengah dia yang terasa dah tu dia nak defend. Tu psal org semua insulting to her psal apa kita bual dia ingat its all about HER. GRrrrrrrr)
But anyways, I refuse to allow this deteriorate into a rant or a list of how much she has upset me. Just that I need to vent out some steam.
To quote a friend whom I had a conversation with, "Some people cannot differentiate being a Musl|m and an Ar@bb." Some people feel that to be a religious person is to adopt the arr@bic culture and customs.
Go figure.
In some ways, this feel like a kindergarten tiff and I try to refuse to dignify it with a response or even an acknowledgement. But I guess when someone splash water on you, you will get somewhat wet. Although I want to ignore the person's attention seeking behaviour, somehow I cannot help cursing and feeling somewhat upset with this person.
Unlike other people who, when they did something wrong, immediately point fingers to other people, I try to look inside and ask myself. Was it me? If I am the insulting and the offensive one why do people come to me sometimes even to complain about her? Don't get me wrong, its not about taking sides, but I found that I'm not the only one who have problems getting along with her and I am too polite to tell her that.
Perhaps she should look into herself and ask why people stay away from her, instead of blaming on other people. She claims that the others are prejudiced because she is married to a local. But its difficult to hangout with someone who is constantly trying to preach instead of making a jovial conversation.
Example of a conversation:
A: Oh no, why are they bombing Amm@n now? What are the @l-q@edah up to? What do they want to achieve?
Her: No kak its not necessarily the @l-q@aeda doing all this. I disagree that its the Musl|ms are doing this. Perhaps its the IRA thats responsible.
Me: IRA? Gimme a break! (<--- comment considered sarcastic)
{grrrrrrr takde orang bagitau kat dia ka IRA nak buat apa pi bomb tempat tu! Tapi degil nyer pasal dia nak jugak tegakkan benang yang basah tu. Pasai apa? Dia tak nak ngaku yang buat bende ni orang @rab. Taulah dia kawin dgn orang @rab tapi tak semestinya kita criticize some sections of the society sama cam kita condem laki dia. Malas betul! Kalau tercakap skit tercritcize skit psal org Timur tengah dia yang terasa dah tu dia nak defend. Tu psal org semua insulting to her psal apa kita bual dia ingat its all about HER. GRrrrrrrr)
But anyways, I refuse to allow this deteriorate into a rant or a list of how much she has upset me. Just that I need to vent out some steam.
To quote a friend whom I had a conversation with, "Some people cannot differentiate being a Musl|m and an Ar@bb." Some people feel that to be a religious person is to adopt the arr@bic culture and customs.
Go figure.
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
What can you do with leftover nasi impit?
OK the story went like this. There were rumours here that Eid would fall on the 2nd November, so we got all excited. I decided that I wanted to eat kuah Lodeh for Eid this year with the Brahim Nasi Impit. So on the afternoon of the 1st November, I boiled all 6 packs of the Nasi Impit. At the same time we had made plans with some friends to have a BBQ on the night before Eid. (Which was the sticky part really because we didn't know exactly when Ed was going to be.) The plan was, we'd buy the meat and marinade them on the 1st, if Eid was announced to be on the 2nd, we'd have the BBQ that night, otherwise we'd keep them for another night.
However, my dearest decided that he was too excited to wait for the Eid announcement and called our friends to come over and have the BBQ that night. So while lighting up the BBQ fire, we waited and waited for the sms from friends, hopefully tellng us that Eid was to be tomorrow (the 2nd). But it wasn't meant to be. We had our BBQ and the nasi impit was placed in the fridge.
I thought I would cook kuah lodeh the following day, but we received a call in the morning, inviting us for Malam raya grub at a friend’s place. It was really yummy and we had a blast.
And the Nasi impit stayed in the fridge.
At this point, my plan was to cook the kuah lodeh on the morning of Eid, so we could have it for lunch. But on the morning of Eid, we received a call at 8 am, inviting us for a Laksa brunch. Yummy! So we got dressed and went over for some lovely laksa.
And that night we had dinner at the Embassy. Food was yummy! Almost everyone was dressed in baju kurung and there was some lagu Raya.
And my Nasi impit was still in the fridge.
On the second day of Eid, we had another lunch invite. This time it’s a full pledged home-made laksa! Ade mokcik from gannu and her daughter made home made laksa noodles with authentic laksa gravy. It was soooo good that we ALL had at least two bowls of laksa each, until there was no more gravy!
That evening, for dinner, I took one pack of Nasi Impit out to eat with the kuah lodeh and rending which we bought from the local Indonesian shop.
5 packs of Nasi Impit remained in the fridge.
The following day, we decided that we had to do something with the nasi impit or it will all go to waste and t would be a shame really. So my dearest suggested that we made Soto Ayam and invited some friends over for dinner. The Soto Ayam was a hit although we only used up 4 packs of Nasi Impit.
And we’re still left with the last bag of Nasi Impit.
What can we do with it? I am no longer excited about cooking kuah lodeh. Already had some kuah kacang with some nasi Impit the other day. Made the soto.
So what or how else can we have the Nasi impit with? I really don’t want the last bag to go to waste, so I would really appreciate it if you can provide me with suggestions for the Nasi Impit.
And how did your Eid went?
However, my dearest decided that he was too excited to wait for the Eid announcement and called our friends to come over and have the BBQ that night. So while lighting up the BBQ fire, we waited and waited for the sms from friends, hopefully tellng us that Eid was to be tomorrow (the 2nd). But it wasn't meant to be. We had our BBQ and the nasi impit was placed in the fridge.
I thought I would cook kuah lodeh the following day, but we received a call in the morning, inviting us for Malam raya grub at a friend’s place. It was really yummy and we had a blast.
And the Nasi impit stayed in the fridge.
At this point, my plan was to cook the kuah lodeh on the morning of Eid, so we could have it for lunch. But on the morning of Eid, we received a call at 8 am, inviting us for a Laksa brunch. Yummy! So we got dressed and went over for some lovely laksa.
And that night we had dinner at the Embassy. Food was yummy! Almost everyone was dressed in baju kurung and there was some lagu Raya.
And my Nasi impit was still in the fridge.
On the second day of Eid, we had another lunch invite. This time it’s a full pledged home-made laksa! Ade mokcik from gannu and her daughter made home made laksa noodles with authentic laksa gravy. It was soooo good that we ALL had at least two bowls of laksa each, until there was no more gravy!
That evening, for dinner, I took one pack of Nasi Impit out to eat with the kuah lodeh and rending which we bought from the local Indonesian shop.
5 packs of Nasi Impit remained in the fridge.
The following day, we decided that we had to do something with the nasi impit or it will all go to waste and t would be a shame really. So my dearest suggested that we made Soto Ayam and invited some friends over for dinner. The Soto Ayam was a hit although we only used up 4 packs of Nasi Impit.
And we’re still left with the last bag of Nasi Impit.
What can we do with it? I am no longer excited about cooking kuah lodeh. Already had some kuah kacang with some nasi Impit the other day. Made the soto.
So what or how else can we have the Nasi impit with? I really don’t want the last bag to go to waste, so I would really appreciate it if you can provide me with suggestions for the Nasi Impit.
And how did your Eid went?
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