End of the tunnel ( Pt 15 ) - Now she owns a ring

A) - Just a prologue

The sound of an incoming sms woke me up. A message at 1.13 am was not likely to be a good news, unless from another time zone. The message read, ‘Ayh sy meninggal dunia 12.33 am.'

Only then I noticed an earlier message which read, ‘ Salam pakcik. Ayah sy tenat.’ It came at 11.20 pm when I had just retired, too tired to be awakened after a long drive from KL.

Those short messages came from an ex Almanar pupil who regarded us as her second parents. Early this morning we went to her home and at 10.30 I went for the prayers to send off a very dedicated ‘bilal’ of a mosque here. The girl will, insya Allah, be a subject of my ‘End of the tunnel’ series.

The deceased, whom I knew well, has left without a chance to have the worldly satisfaction of seeing the success of his beloved daughter. Alfatihah to this wonderful man whose passing should make his loving daughter realise that he had not lived for nothing. She has a debt to settle.
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B) - Now she owns a ring

As I was driving home from the funeral, feeling sorry for the now fatherless girl, I decided to sit and post a new entry before the end of the day, perhaps another of the ‘End of the Tunnel’ series – but not about the bereaved young lady mentioned above. I will pick a boy whom I call Syami.

The boy from Batu Rakit

Not so long ago this boy, Syami, came over to Nuri to hand a wedding invitation card. No, it was not his wedding as he passed his SPM just a year ago. The card was for the wedding of one of his three sisters, he being the youngest of four children from the same mother.

When I first knew Syami seven years ago he struck me as a high potential and a determined boy. Life was not easy for him, his mother selling nasi lemak to raise five clever children. Circumstances brought Syami and Pakcik close together and I was able to counsel and speak freely to him.

I remember how, during the year he sat for the PMR exam, he had to spend a lot of his time helping classmates rather than for himself, a good quality which might not do justice to his own need. A number of his friends did well in that exam; and as I expected Syami did very well himself and that earned him an offer to join form 4 at a premier secondary science boarding school in Kuala Terengganu. When others would jump with joy, he did NOT want to accept the offer!

I was pretty sure had he continued at his old school he would succees to lead his class and continue to be haunted by his class-mates for help. This was a case of a big fish in a small pond, feeling very comfortable, completely oblivious to the great competition among the giants outside. He was certain Almanar could continue to help him through. Pakcik had a hard time to persuade that young boy to leave his comfort zone. Thank goodness , in the end, he grudgingly took my advice.

Hardly three months later, he came around to admit feeling rather ‘small’ against the giants in his class, especially those from schools in the West Coast. That challenge made him produce his best.

Three years has gone down the line. Today my Syami is attending a two-year course leading to Cambridge A Level exam. He has to take German language as he is slated to read engineering in Germany. He knows he has no alternative but to make it if he wants to go forwards; but this young man seems mentally prepared.

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Syami (extreme right) and two classmates

Syami’s family is no longer what it was because his elders, given proper education, are earning good money, thanks to their mother’s tireless sacrifice. If for a long time the great mother enjoyed no luxury, today, according to Syami, ‘She can boast of having a ring on her finger.’ Her children have made her stop selling nasi lemak.
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Both Makcik and Pakcik, as a matter of course, attended the wedding of Syami’s sister. At the end of enjoying our food, and as we were leaving for home Syami came to say that her mother wished to see Pakcik before I left. So I went to look her up. The moment she saw me approaching she left her lady guests. What she had was just to express her thanks for what I had done for her son. “ Kalau ada apa apa masalah saya selalu suruh dia jumpa Pakciklah ( Whenever there was a problem I would normally ask him to see Pakik)”; a compliment I least expected from a wonderful mother who could now smile with a ring on her finger.

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Moment to Reflect ( Pt 8 ) - Whether Alive or Dead - SAW

We have gone more than half way through the month of Rabiul Awwal. Mawlidul Rasul has been much talked about and discussed. Today I pick up one of my treasured books, The Life of Muhammad by Muhammad Husein Haykal.

By Muhammad Husein Haykal

The page immediately inside the front cover bears my signature and the date the book was purchased, KL 14/2/95, making it 17 years ago today, KT 14/2/12.

Purchased in KL on 14-2.1995

As I flip through the book and I reach Chapter 31 (page 504), The Prophet’s Burial. On the second page of this chapter I had some notes scribbled in pencil. Reading that I can barely hold back my tears. The scene was that of a total chaos, women crying near hysterical and others shocked and stupefied.

Umar, on hearing the sad news went straight to Muhammad’s bed, uncovered him and looked at his face for a while. He perceived its motionless and deathlike appearance as a coma from which he believed Muhammad would soon emerge. He found it hard to accept the truth of a great man he had so admired and worked for. So at the mosque he was proclaiming at the top of his voice, “Some hypocrites are pretending that the Prophet of God – May God’s peace and blessing be upon him – has died. By God I swear that he did not die ……. By God, the Prophet of God will return ……. Any man who dares to perpetrate a false rumour such as Muhammad’s death shall have his arms and legs cut off by this hand.”

Abu Bakr hearing the same news returned and noticed Umar addressing the crowd. He did not stop to listen to Umar but went straight to Muhammad’s body, uncovered his face and kissed it, saying, “How wholesome you are, whether alive or dead!” He then held the Prophet’s head in his hand and looked closely at the face which showed no sign whatever of death’s attack. Laying it down again, he said, “What would I not have sacrificed for you! …..”- such devotion.

Abu Bakr then returned to the mosque. Aproaching close to Umar he said, “Softly, O Umar! Keep silent!” He then went to address the crowd. After praising and thanking God, Abu Bakr delivered a brief address. “ O men, if you have been worshiping Muhammad, then know that Muhammad is dead. But if you have been worshiping God, then know that God is living and never dies." He then recited the following Quranic verse ( among the verses most dear toPakcik) :

Part of verse 144 - surah Al Imran

I have written above only the first half of the verse 144 from Surah Al Imran. Muhammad Asad gave us the following interpretation:

“ And Muhammad is only an apostle; all the (other) apostles have passed away before him; if, then, he dies or is slain, will you turn about on your heels? ….” He completed the other half of the verse.

Abubakr’s short speech, particularly the verse, worked like magic. The crowd listened to the verse as if they had never heard it before, now fully understood the stark truth. So that was that. The inevitable had to be accepted.

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So what does that scene above tell us?

Hadn't the great Prophet done enough ?

Do we simply keep on celebrating his maulid, without giving a thought what his life stood for?

And shouldn't we spare a moment to reflect over what the greatest man on earth had done for mankind?

“ What would I not have sacrificed for you! …..” ? - Abu Bakr's lament.

Have we nothing at all to sacrifice, in our own separate little way, in honour of what he did for mankind?

Sall Allah alaihi wasallam.

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With a sigh (Pt 11 ) - Atlas, what is it?

Ask me, “What’s an atlas ?”

I will start with a book of maps showing position of countries, towns, seas and mountains etc. School children can answer that equally well.

A world atlas

“What else?”

I would go back to my childhood days when, like children of those days, I was interested in old folk lore like Pak Pandir, Hang Tuah etc. Then of course I would imagine the mighty Atlas of the Greek mythology holding the earth on his back.

The might Atlas

“What else?”

Now I have to scratch my head thinking hard of my old geography lesson when I learnt all about the prominent ranges of Alps, the Himalayas, the Andes etc. And among them stands Atlas Mountains stretching across North Africa.

“What else?”

Now you catch me. I am sorry. I cannot think of any more, unless you mean AlAttas.

“My goodness. You don’t have to go to school to know what Atlas is!”

---------------------------------

I was then doing English with my Form TWO pupils when something made me ask them what ‘atlas’ was when a line in the book we were reading read, “ …… bought me an atlas ….” I was glad to have asked them that question. a stupid question, perhaps. About twenty blank faces looked at one another, a few shaking their heads. I just stood there with disbelief. Then a boy mastered the courage to suggest,

“Kain pelikat, Pakcik!”

Indeed ‘Atlas’ was a popular brand of man’s cloth (kain pelikat) at that time. Everyone in the village knows that. How silly I was.

Pelikat Atlas

That old man standing in front of the class could only draw a sigh to realise how out-dated and silly he was. To him was kain pelikat 'cap gajah benang seribu', nothing but the best of his time.

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End of the tunnel ( Part 14 ) – Once a fisherman, always a fisherman

The bell rang and I knew someone was at the gate. As I pushed open the main door a young girl was stepping in through the gate.

“Pakcik ingat saya lagi, tak?” ( Can Pakcik still remember me, or not?)

Her face was beaming with excitement. Of course she was a familiar face; but before I could pick a right name from that long list answer she already answered her own question, obviously so exhilarated to let something off her chest. “ Fiza, Pakcik. Nak bagi kad lah Pakcik.” ( Fiza, Pakcik. I have a card to give.)

A kad (a card). I knew it. It had to be an invitation card for her wedding. So that was it.

FIZA

Fiza is no stranger to Makcik and Pakcik.(click) End of the tunnel (Part 5 ) featured her elder sister who now has two children, holding a senior position in a private college in Klang Valley. Fiza herself is a nurse at a hospital in Kedah.

A few minutes later, sitting comfortably and obviously relieved after letting off her chest the reason for her visit, she talked about her job and family, a happy family. Her father, now at 61, is still a fisherman and has been one for 46 years. Shouldn’t he call it a day when children have begun to earn good income? I wondered and asked her so.

“ We all have told him again and again that he must stop going out to sea. But can you believe it? If he does not take his boat out for a few days he gets sick – rindukan ombak ( missing the waves)!”

Ten days later we duly attended her wedding, a grand kampong wedding, the second we attended in that particular house. When I looked at the brick house my mind wondered back some fifteen years ago to picture an old wooded house on stilts, often flooded during monoon season. They often needed a small wooden boat to reach the steps of the house from the higher ground around it.

Wedding day

Pak Yas (for Alias), the proud father, the ‘old man of the sea’, was equally excited to see us. “ I told Fiza she must send her card personally to Pakcik.” He stressed the word ‘sendiri’ (personally).

Pak Yas - Standing tall

And before we left the proud fisherman confided, “ I hope you will have a chance to come for a third wedding.” Indeed three daughters were ‘graduates’ from Almanar. Two are married and one to go.

In his pink dress the proud father looked young for his age. The secret cannot simply be the happy ending for his family but it has a lot to do with his 46 years of dripping his sweat in the sun and the storms, and being washed by the sprays of salt water of the South China Sea.

Makcik and Pakcik share the happiness of the family of this master fisherman.

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Pakcik reminisces (Pt 23b) - Response to Awang Goneng

Pakcik’s previous entry drew a number of comments. The one from Awang Goneng (copied below) touched on points very pertinent to learning of English language.

“Way to go Abang Ngah! I am happy to hear about your planned collaboration with a local university. The problem nowadays is not the quantity of teaching but the quality. Our children have lost their language skills but there are more opportunities for language learning around them. People say there's too much Malay nowadays, but there's too much English too. More and more government departments are writing in English, more people in public are speaking in English and there are many, many television programmes in English. Language learning isn't just vocabulary building or learning the mechanics of grammar. It is more than that. Children should read and love reading. They should listen and love listening. In short, they should love the language they are learning. Literature is kicked by the wayside nowadays and language is pushed into slots. English for Science, English for this English for that. Teaching English as English seems to be a futile exercise. Give them back the love of literature, the sounds of words.”

___________________________

While Awang Goneng laments briefly over the teaching and usage of English language I am using this avenue to express my concern on the same subject:

i ) - Would the few hundred teachers imported from America be of help to the likes of the poor rural children who attend classes at Almanar?

ii ) - Assuming our teachers have been suitably trained to teach English as a means to communicate and a tool to search for knowledge, are they at liberty to use their skill to the full or are they being restricted to doggedly and blindly follow what the demigods of education upstairs have outlined?

iii ) - Have the heads of schools been trained to MANAGE an organisation rather than to teach; and if so have they got the leeway to exercise discretion to suit the problems faced in their varied environments?

iv) - Seeing what has been the excessive emphasis on RECORDs of straight ‘A’ at state as well as at school level, should we not, for a change, see highlights of the number and percentage of pupils achieving nothing beyond ‘D’ and ‘E’? Not long ago, the percentage of the group of pupils in this low category at one school reached as high as 30% in one PMR exam. That is very telling isn’t it?

v) – Does the introduction of a subject like EST ( English for Science and Technology) reflect deficiency in our English as a subject?

vi) – Instead of hard copies, blackboard and chalks, must we encourage the use of computing technology to the extent that a teacher can leave the pupils on their own in class?

vii) – Are the text books used for teaching English up to standard? Is it acceptable, for instance, that poems and short stories by Malaysians are translated into English and used as parts of introduction to English literature? Are we making our children learn English literature or learn to be proud of ‘Malaysia boleh’?

I have these questions playing in my head from time to time for so many years when I keep seeing with despair at the attainment of many kampong children coming for help at Almanar.

I will not forget what Awang Goneng once mentioned to Pakcik how the problem of poor children at the bottom classes in schools of a neighbouring country was tackled. The method was so successful that teachers would scramble to teach bottom classes! But we are too proud to be a ‘copycat’. With Malaysia Boleh we should not be surprised when Malaysian engineers are soon required to reinvent the wheel!

____________________

To Awang Goneng.

Mi, I may have been unnecessarily critical. I may have raised some eyebrows among my readers. But in the environments I happen to live in, on top of growing old, I have my frustrations.

Thank you for your comments.

Abang Ngah

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Pakcik reminisces (Pt 23a ) - A milestone in time

Weary of a possibility that this entry might be construed as an attempt to highlight self importance, Pakcik will have to be as brief as possible.

I cannot help waking up to the reality that this year marks an important milestone in my journey through time. Twenty years ago Pakcik had to vacate a cosy chair with an employer that I had been closely associated with for thirty five years of my life. I owe them my tertiary education and I owe them material gains and experience in building the life of my family. At the end of that milestone we were gratified to witness our three birds leaving their nest, and the two of us left contented to begin unhindered the final part of our journey. That was 30 years ago.

We were ready for our ‘hijrah’; in location, modes of living, devoid of clubs and partying, and, above all, the activities which preoccupy. Sadly we had to part with many very close friends and relatives, including our own children.

Two years later I chose a new career, one which the pair of these old birds would not expect any material gains. And now, eighteen years past the bridge in time, we are happy that, without any lingering doubts, we had Almanar launched. In its humble way Almanar shares the pride of seeing some deserving children from this small community progressing ahead in education, one that could bring gains to their respective families; as briefly sketched in our ‘End of the Tunnel’ series.

The very recent siting of a home for orphans and children of needy families by the authority has presented Almanar a new challenge. The present number of children living in this new home, a stone’s throw away, is about 80 children and very soon it will increase to about 100. Sadly, these children, resulted from shortcomings in years of upbringing them, have little inclination towards education. This is an added challenge which Pakcik have neither time nor expertise to deal with.

It is very fortunate that we have been offered an opportunity to open a discussion with representives from a university with the view of implementing a small project loosely called ‘transfer of knowledge from university to community’. I am hoping against hope that a new era will open in a not-too-distant future when members from that university will make programmed visits to Almanar to deal with motivation aspects of these children. It will surely mark a new milestone in time for Almanar.

On a slightly wider perspective, if the above-mentioned project truly gets underway successfully, I would like schools around us to take advantage of this new university-Almanar venture; instead of the current tendency among certain groups in the schools to look with scorn and doubts at what benefits Almanar could offer to their pupils.

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Interlude – Bengawan Solo

“Ning, I have no class this afternoon. Let’s go out for high tea after my Jumaat prayers.’

“ So I don’t have to prepare lunch.”

“ And dinner!”

That was a deal and by three we were in town to join a small crowd with a three-piece band playing soft music. We found ourselves a table for two in a corner within sight of the music makers. After picking up some dishes we sat quietly enjoying our food half listening to lovely old English pieces – pieces for dancing.

I did not know what was in her mind but I quickly went back in time, some fifty years ago`. I could see couples, all properly attired; swaying to romantic waltzes and slow foxtrots. Oh, what a lovely scene it was in the pictures of my mind. Suddenly I was awakened from my reverie when the music changed. It was Bengawan Solo, my very favourite of the mid 50’s.

I looked up and saw the leader/singer smiling at me as he sang the lyrics. Yes we know each other and it was his way of presenting something special. What a song this is, an evergreen Indonesian classic.

Bengawan Solo

Bengawan Solo, riwayatmu ini
sedari dulu jadi perhatian insani
musim kemarau, tak seberapa airmu
di musim hujan air meluap sampai jauh ...

mata airmu dari Solo
terkurung gunung seribu
air mengalir sampai jauh
akhirnya ke laut ...

itu perahu, riwayatmu dulu
kaum pedagang s'lalu naik itu perahu

________________________

"Bengawan Solo, this is a song of your history.
People have been fascinated with this great river since ancient times,
In the dry season, your water is little, and in the rainy season, your water overflows till far,
Around the source of the Solo River, there are a thousand mountains,
And the river flows all the way to the sea.
There are always many merchants on board ships going up and down the river.
These ships also show your history."

________________

Before we left I made the few steps to the music makers and thanked the leader for his very special song. “ I knew you would want me to sing that. Until next time …..”

That was a good break for us. On the way home I expressed the thought which had been lingering in my mind. “ Ning, isn’t strange? Fifty years ago our Malay folks looked with contempt and disapproval at Malays in proper dresses dancing gracefully to the sentimental music because it was a western culture. And today, we see on TV crowds of young and old Malays swaying their hands in unison, delirious at boys and girls jumping and wriggling on stage in dresses I feel completely disgusted.”

“You are behind time, darling!” she responded with a wry smile.

Indeed I am. A lot of water has gone under the bridge (of Bengawan Solo)

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All in the Family ( Part 2 ) – From Adam to Adam

Over forty years ago, a young couple indeed we were when we received the much awaited news of the coming of our first baby. And during the next nine months we were made to wonder in suspense whether it was a boy or a girl, whether it was just one or more, and hoping all was going to be a gift with perfect features and all. Baby scanning was not even a dream. In many ways, however, the months of expectation, suspense, dream and prayers were all part of the pleasure. Much of the thrill is lost today, not unlike watching a replay of a football final when the score is already known.

And the pleasure of trying to arrive at a suitable name for our first one was an added pleasure. We borrowed and we bought books of names to make our list of preferred names. And it had to be a boy’s and a girl’s name, with contingency added in the event of more than one. But how would one arrive at a name or two? What criteria and basis were to apply? At long last, after much deliberation and brainstorming, the name/names had to start with alphabet ‘A’. You see we went so far as to assume that the yet-to-be born babe would be clever enough to go into a university, and at the end of each year the child should not find it difficult to find his/her name from the long list of passes! It had to be among the top few name! It was beyond belief that the result could appear on a small screen held in your palm, wherever you choose to be.

So we had Ainun followed by Amran and Anwar – just three? Pakcik had wanted a full dozen, or even more, but three times on the operation table was enough for any mother to go through in the 60’s. Our Dr McCoy advised against going for number four. ( Note: Dato’ Dr McCoy is a founder member of Malaysian Physicians for the Prevention of Nuclear War (MPPNW) and has been its chairman since 1989. He is Co-President of International Physicians for the Preventive of Nuclear War (IPPNW). Disappointed, we conceded.

Our number one herself started the short list of four children whose names begin with ‘A’ except for an ‘S’. The ‘S’, for Sulaiman, was our special request in honour of the child’s great-grand-father, a scholar who died at the young age of 39. Like her mother, Ainun herself cannot go for a dozen or more, beating her mother by having four. The fourth was named after our first prophet ( Alaihissalaam), ADAM, and the first of human race.

The list continued with Aisyah, the first ‘Hawa’ in the list of our grandchildren, and finally Adam. We never asked why it should be Adam. But it could very well be the last child. If Makcik found three was enough, our daughter was brave enough to go for four
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I have a younger sister in my family, whose name does not begin with ‘A’. She has three children none of whom carries a name with ‘A’, and yet they are successful in life. Her youngest daughter, now in the Hague with her husband, delivered her first baby three months ago. It was a very pleasant surprise for us to know that this first baby was named Adam. This new family of three returned during the recent Christmas holidays.

And for the first time the two ADAMS, sons of two cousins, met.

Ainun & the two Adams (8 yr & 5 m)

We can only pray and hope that these two Adams ( both born in August) are blessed, will live up to their auspicious name, and be humane enough to be of service to mankind.

Berkhidmat kerana Tuhan untuk kemanusiaan.

Hatinya baik (He had a wonderful heart) –Part 4

A) INTRODUCING First Day of 2012

I have seen this first day more than seventy times. A lot of water has gone under the bridge, so to speak. And, if there is any left, how many more are there ahead? Wallahu A’lam.

The year just gone had many good moments. The few instances, which Makcik and Pakcik accepted with sadness, were the deaths of several very close to us, in particular Makcik’s own mother and her only aunt. And just about one week to the end of the year I was particularly saddened by the passing a national figure of whom I am writing below.

There is nothing to celebrate, really. Last night it was cats and dogs right through the night till almost dawn. Therefore open air first-day celebration in this world-class city was out of question.

This being the first day of the year I chose to close Almanar for the normal morning class, leaving just for the afternoon. And I made myself useful in the morning ‘supervising’ Makcik making my usual favourite home-made thick-cut marmalade. She ended with a batch of five tubs which should keep me happy at breakfast for another six months.

Soon after my afternoon class a middle age couple turned at our house. They are a husband-and-wife team planting vegetables for sale. They apparently heard that this old man by the sea had done wonders for free.

Would Pakcik kindly accept her daughter who had just obtained 3C’s and 2D’s (English and Math) in her recent UPSR exam? Whom should I pity, the vegetable growers or her poor daughter? It was not such a difficult question. Years ago I accepted an orphan with 2D’s in the same subjects and he converted them to 2 A’s three years later.

So that was my first day of 2012. This evening I am sitting to draft this posting.

________________________________________

B ) Hatinya baik (He had a wonderful heart) –Part 4

Utusan Malaysia – 24th December 2011

On 23rd December 2011, a Friday, once a minister in Prime Minister’s Dept, Tan Sri Dr Abdul Hamid Othman, passed away suddenly at the age of 72. I cannot claim to be more than an acquaintance to him. But he was a man I could not help admiring.

Had his son, his only child, not been a close classmate of my son during their secondary education at Sekolah Menengah Alam Shah, I would have never had the opportunity to know this very special man whose thought and vision I could share. That was in the 70’s when he was a lecturer at the University Kebangsaan. He used to call at my house in Damansara Heights and we had interesting talks on various subjects, particularly education. We shared a common beginning in education. The two paths in the forest, where I chose to take one leaving the other, were more or less the same paths; but he took the other. We would probably be friends at AlAzhar University had I chosen the path preferred by my parents.

We talked about St Andrew where he went to do his PhD in Islamic study, and I visiting the birth place of golf.

I remember how interesting it was doing research in Islam St Andrew’s University. He spoke very highly of the English professors’ knowledge in Islam and the Quran. I was not surprised when he said a number of them converted, but only after they had retired from the university.

He had high hopes for his son, Wafi, the like of my hope for my first son. He had wanted his son to reach the sky in education. Today I know deep in my heart how satisfied he had been to see the attainment of his loved one, obtaining first-class honours in law, a Masters in law at Cambridge, finishing with a PhD in maritime law, a chip of the old block.

I never wondered why the late Tan Sri was picked by Dr Mahathir to be his advisor in Islamic matters. I could not think of a better person, a quiet, humble and unpretentious great human being.

Many would miss arwah Tan Sri. I regret for not keeping in touch with him in his later days. All I can do now is to pray for him. Al Fatihah for him, and condolence to surviving members of his family.

Berkhidmat kerana Tuhan untuk kemanusiaan.

With a Sigh (Pt. 11) - A Class for Three

Flashback - A year ago, on 15.12.2010 my posting went like this:

"With a sigh ( Pt 4 ) – Do I carry on or call it a day?

“O, no, … only NINE ….?” cried my first little thought when I stepped into my class at Almanar one day last week. Rising to their feet to greet me were just nine pupils, ALL GIRLS. What has become of all the boys?.... “

_____________________________

Indeed, Pakcik went through a very disappointing time and questioned whether or not to call it a day. A few reasons contribute to the dwindling number of children attending Almanar. I was truly depressed at the situation then. Somehow, nothing short of providence brought fresh light into the gloom. A house for children of poor families and orphans was opened one kilometer away from Almanar, calling for help from Almanar to tutor about 80 children from Form 1 to Form 4. This god-send fresh mission was most welcome, albeit a fresh challenge never thought of previously; the majority are of very poor quality, academically and in attitude towards learning.

How the Form 3 children of this group fared in the recent PMR is not yet known to us as these children are away on holidays. But we are certain of very poor results for a start. We will soon know.

In the meantime we have not closed our door to other children in the community. This morning was supposed to be the first day for new Form 1 pupils to join Almanar class. Against the previous high figure of up to forty, we had THREE pupils, a boy and two girls!

The class of THREE

But we are past being deterred from pushing ahead. I remember Mr Micawber, a character in Charles Dickens’s David Copperfield, one of the text books for Form 4 English Literature in 1954. This eternal optimist believes that "something will turn up".

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Merry X’mas - 2011

To our Christian visitors and, in particular, our very old friends, Pauline, Julian, Ian, Raymond and their families, Salmah and I wish a merry X’mas, possibly a beautiful white one for those in UK and the States.

With kind regards from

Hassan & Salmah

_______________________

P/S

Untuk yang seugama, Pakcik ingin melakarkan ayat 45 dan 59 dari surah Al I’mran.

Oleh kerana Pakcik sendiri tidak berkemampuan memberi penerangan secukupnya, memadai lah dengan apa yang terdapat dalam “Tafsir Pimpinan Al-Rahman Kepada Pengertian Al Quran” yang diterbitkan oleh Jabatan Perdana Menteri- 1968 :

Ayat 45 dari surah Al-Imran

“(Ingatlah) Ketika malaikat berkata: “Wahai Maryam! Bahawasanya Allah memberikan khabar yang mengmbirakan mu, dengan (mengurniakan kepada mu seorang anak yang engkau akan kandungkan sematamata dengan) kalimah daripada Allah ( kalimah arahan Allah ‘kuun’ - atau ‘jadi’- dan terus jadi) , nama anak itu: Al Masih Isa Ibnu Maryam, seorang yang terkemuka dalam dunia dan akhirat, dan ia juga dari orang yang didanpingkan (diberi kemuliaan disisi Allah).”

Ayat 59 dari surah Al-Imran

“Sesungguhnya perbandingan kejadian nabi Isa disisi Allah, adalah sama dengan kejadian nabi Adam. Allah telah menciptakan Adam dari tanah lalu berfirman kepadanya: ‘Jadilah engkau!’ Maka jadilah ia.”

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From those two verses alone we are being reminded that Al-Masikh Isa, is one of the greatest prophets who are to be honoured by us all. He is no less human than Adam, both of whom were created by a one-word command from Him – KUUN or simply BE. Adam was created without parents and Isa without the need of a father, hence Isa bin Maryam. That being the case, and firmly with that unshakable belief, should we not honour this prophet of Allah the way we are expected to do as enshrined in Al Quran? Could we not respect others for the basis they choose for their belief, that we be respected in return?

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Moment to Reflect ( Pt 7 ) - I – Who am I?

5.30 pm today.

From our home we noticed,
An inviting scene.
We walked down.
And stood there.
Words unspoken.

Just watch.
Just admire.

Vast
Endless

The marvel of the Great Creator
Aku bertafakkur sejenak.

Click on pictures to enlarge

A 5.30 scene -Sunday 18.12.12

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What Pakcik Received ( Pt 2 ) - Room to Read

In September this year ( click HERE) Pakcik decided to introduce this ‘What Pakcik Received’ series primarily meant to extend to my readers certain articles of interest sent to me by friends. Recently, one in Thailand emailed an article by Nicholas D Kristof, a well-known columnist of New York Times. Subject: Room to Read ONE of the legendary triumphs of philanthropy was Andrew Carnegie's construction of more than 2,500 libraries around the world. It's renowned as a stimulus to learning that can never be matched - except that, numerically, it has already been surpassed several times over by an American man you've probably never heard of. I came here to Vietnam to see John Wood hand out his 10 millionth book at a library that his team founded in this village in the Mekong Delta - as hundreds of local children cheered and embraced the books he brought as if they were the rarest of treasures. Wood's charity, Room to Read, has opened 12,000 of these libraries around the world, along with 1,500 schools. Yes, you read that right. He has opened nearly five times as many libraries as Carnegie, even if his are mostly single-room affairs that look nothing like the grand Carnegie libraries. Room to Read is one of America's fastest-growing charities and is now opening new libraries at an astonishing clip of six a day. In contrast, McDonald's opens one new outlet every 1.08 days. It all began in 1998 when Wood, then a Microsoft marketing director, chanced upon a remote school in Nepal serving 450 children. Only one problem: It had no books to speak of. Wood blithely offered to help and eventually delivered a mountain of books by a caravan of donkeys. The local children were deliriously happy, and Wood said he felt such exhilaration that he quit Microsoft, left his live-in girlfriend (who pretty much thought he had gone insane), and founded Room to Read in 2000. He faced one challenge after another, not only in opening libraries but also in filling them with books that kids would want to read. "There are no books for kids in some languages, so we had to become a self-publisher," Wood explains. "We're trying to find the Dr. Seuss of Cambodia." Room to Read has, so far, published 591 titles in languages including Khmer, Nepalese, Zulu, Lao, Xhosa, Chhattisgarhi, Tharu, Tsonga, Garhwali and Bundeli. It also supports 13,500 impoverished girls who might otherwise drop out of school. In a remote nook of the Mekong Delta, reachable only by boat, I met one of these girls, a 10th grader named Le Thi My Duyen. Her family, displaced by flooding, lives in a shabby tent on a dike. When Duyen was in seventh grade, she dropped out of school to help her family out. "I thought education was not so necessary for girls," Duyen recalled. Room to Read's outreach workers trekked to her home and cajoled the family to send her back to class. They paid her school fees, bought her school uniforms and offered to put her up in a dormitory so that she wouldn't have to commute two hours each way to school by boat and bicycle. Now Duyen is back, a star in her class - and aiming for the moon. "I would like to go to university," she confessed, shyly. The cost per girl for this program is $250 annually. To provide perspective, Kim Kardashian's wedding is said to have cost $10 million; that sum could have supported an additional 40,000 girls in Room to Read. So many American efforts to influence foreign countries have misfired - not least here in Vietnam a generation ago. We launch missiles, dispatch troops, rent foreign puppets and spend billions without accomplishing much. In contrast, schooling is cheap and revolutionary. The more money we spend on schools today, the less we'll have to spend on missiles tomorrow. Wood, 47, is tireless, enthusiastic and emotional: a motivational speaker with no off button. He teared up as girls described how Room to Read had transformed their lives. "If you can change a girl's life forever, and the cost is so low, then why are there so many girls still out of school?" he mused. The humanitarian world is mostly awful at messaging, and Room to Read's success is partly a result of his professional background in marketing. Wood wrote a terrific book, "Leaving Microsoft to Change the World," to spread the word, and Room to Read now has fund-raising chapters in 53 cities around the world. He also runs Room to Read with an aggressive businesslike efficiency that he learned at Microsoft, attacking illiteracy as if it were Netscape. He tells supporters that they aren't donating to charity but making an investment: Where can you get more bang for the buck than starting a library for $5,000? "I get frustrated that there are 793 million illiterate people, when the solution is so inexpensive," Wood told me outside one of his libraries in the Mekong. "If we provide this, it's no guarantee that every child will take advantage of it. But if we don't provide it, we pretty much guarantee that we perpetuate poverty." "In 20 years," Wood told me, "I'd like to have 100,000 libraries, reaching 50 million kids. Our 50-year goal is to reverse the notion that any child can be told 'you were born in the wrong place at the wrong time and so you will not get educated.' That idea belongs on the scrapheap of human history." ________________________________ There are among us bloggers who spend a lot of their time and effort, not necessarily their own money, to help the needy, the aged, the sick, the poor children etc. Let us salute them and try to do our bits.

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