Pakcik reminisces (Pt 17-Sec2/2) – Who and what am I?

A cheat, no less

So, on Friday evening, Jan 4th 1952 with smattering of English learnt in afternoon classes I joined the evening classes at a private school, hoping that, by the end of the same year, I would have learnt sufficient English to be admitted to the only government English school in the state of Terengganu, Sultan Sulaiman English School (SSES). Whilst proficiency in English was never a necessity for one to further his studies in Cairo, it had, for unexplainable reasons, suddenly grown in importance in my case- the work of an unseen hand.

The morning classes at the religious school (MSZA) went well in 1952. Today I relate to my children with pride how their father completed a seven-year course at MSZA in five years, something unheard of until then. The two years saved was a gift from heaven without which I would never have an earthly chance to join the government English School. The age alone would put a stop to it and I would very likely be on a long boat journey to Egypt (Gaddafi would be a boy of about 12 then!) to join my other school mates.

I had to satisfy three conditions to join SSES viz,

i) Joining a class appropriate with my age group.
ii) Possession of a leaving certificate to show proof of
acceptable level of English education.
iii) Passing an entrance test in two subjects,
English and Maths.

AS mentioned above, the two-year credit the religious school was a blessing. I could be pegged to join Form 3.

The first condition satisfied, I was left with the impossible task of meeting the other two. It was simply impossible. How could one own a certificate when he had never sat for the exam? How could one pass a test for admission into Form 3 after a year’s study in the evenings.

What then?
Could we do it by-hook-or-by-crook principle?
Should we change the rule of the game so that crooked means justify honourable ends?

Yes, apply the ‘darurah’ (sheer emergency) rule and all should be legal!

Today I live to marvel at how with five ringgits (mind you, that was in 1952!) I became a proud owner of a leaving school certificate that came from someone/somewhere, the details of which transactions best left undisclosed. The certificate categorically stated that I had passed Form 2 in all subjects. This satisfied condition (ii)

Having achieved to satisfy the second condition, we began to work on good ‘human relation’ practices – one must cultivate the skill of intimately knowing who and who. This town was a small town where almost every one was connected to everyone else by blood or whatever. So it was not all that difficult

The long and short of it I was discreetly given a chance to study the test questions while everyone's eyes were closed. Armed and well prepared, on Monday, Jan 13th (lucky number!)1953, as recorded in my diary, I sat for the entrance test and with sheer brilliance I DID IT!

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And so, as recorded in my diary, on Sunday ( Fridays being weekend in the state) Jan 18th, 1953, I joined one of the two Form 3 classes at SSES, coy with inferiority, to be with a group of about 30 pupils consisted of Malay, Chinese and Indian boys and pretty girls. And the English teacher was an elegant English lady (in knee-length skirt!) named Mrs Patton. This was my first taste of ‘culture shock’.

How I envied my new friends, seeing them socializing with ease, and merrily conversing in English among themselves and with teachers. And I, in the course of the next few weeks, was a laughing stock when I, with sheer ignorance, read aloud certain words like ‘stomach, rhythm, volume’ etc (pronounced sto maach, raai m, vo luum etc) like an Arab!

However, it did not take long before I began to get on very well with them, albeit keeping my safe distance from the opposite sex. And, soon, I began to be myself again, a serious and determined fellow.

A dream is just another dream

Circumstances and new atmosphere created new ideas, new aspirations and new dreams.

In those days Bukit Besi in Dungun, if one studied geography as a subject, was known as having the world largest tin mine. Those who managed to be employed by the company operating the mine were seen as especially privileged people, earning good salaries and all, against the backdrop of farmers, petty traders, fishermen and so on in the state.

‘It would be nice to be a mining engineer working in Bukit Besi’, a seed of a new dream began to germinate to rival that of a graduate from Al Azhar university.

The following three years saw me being carried forward by my own momentum. All went on so well that I found it hard to step on my brake. It was just what Frost said:

‘ …….. Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.’

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Five of these seven musketerrs (1956) have sadly gone

Early 1956 saw me taking a two-day bus ride with a group of friends heading for KL, my first ever trip (Pakcik reminisces – Pt 11), to join the Higher School Certificate Class at two prestigious schools having ‘Mat Salleh’ principals, teachers and all; but at a price. Must I join my new non-Muslim classmates in the school chapel on Monday mornings (me, the product of a religious school with a headful of Quranic verses)? - more cultural shocks

I was beginning to come to terms with who and what I was in life – and more to come.

Just as I was settling down nicely in KL, getting acquainted with the busy Batu Road, Malacca Street, the week-end ‘pesta’ at Lake Garden nearby, the marvel of Robinsons departmental store, and my new hostel life of course, I came yet to another fork , two roads diverged in a yellow wood.’

One morning I was summoned to see the school principle who asked me whether I would be interested to be nominated a candidate for interviews with a multinational company which was offering two scholarships to boys in MALAYA. Successful candidates would be packed overseas to do an accelerated one-year A-Level course followed by a four-year tertiary education; and, all being well, would need to serve the company for a specific number of years somewhere on earth.

A new challenge; but what became of my earlier dream, a prosperous engineer mining this good earth?

Subsequently I did attend a series of interviews, only soon to be advised that two Chinese boys from other schools had topped the list. That ought to be my first bitter taste of appointment. But was it really?

Look at the opening page of my 1953 diary.

from 1953 diary

The highlighted words coined in Arabic told me on no uncertain terms : Never cease to expect His bounty. So as early as three years earlier I instinctively forewarned myself that life was not going to be a bed of roses. Be prepared and never cease to expect better things to come.

But there was an unexpected twist of event. Hardly two weeks later, came an official from the multinational company to my hostel. He was a bearer of good news that one of the two successful candidates had failed his medical check-up. Would I accept it or was I too proud to be just a stand-by? God works in mysterious ways. I did not win it but someone lost his chance by default. With little thought I made up my mind to go for it, knowing fully well that

‘I doubted if I should ever come back’

Accordingly, in early Sept 1956 I bade farewell to my parents, leaving behind a dream of the revered posts of an Al Azhar graduate and the prestigious position of a mining engineer. As Robert Frost said:

“I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence
Two roads diverging in a wood, and I,
I took one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.”
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I will end this posting with one saying that I learnt some 60 years ago, one that I do not expect to forget ever. It came from an early Islamic thinker/philosopher (before Imam AlGhazali), Yahya ibn Muaz Al Razi. He once said:

Yahya Ibn Muaz Al Razi


A person who truly understands and knows who and what he is, is indeed, one who knows who his Creator is.

Today I know better who and what I am, my weaknesses, strengths, failures, successes and how I have been led from one path to another less traveled one; and I think I know HIM better.

And today whenever I raise my two hands, I never fail to say in whatever little Arabic that I learnt sixty years ago, “My God. I thank You for the very life You have given me, and for giving me a wife, children, sustenance, knowledge ………”

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Pakcik reminisces (Pt 17 – Sec 1/2)) – The road not taken

I do not remember when was the first time I came across Robert Frost’s poem ‘The road not taken’. It was certainly during my school days. I thought it was a beautiful, but at a young age I could not grasp the full implication of the poem. A few years back this short poem was included in the secondary school English text book. The short poem reads:

The Road Not Taken
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Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back,

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence
Two roads diverging in a wood, and I,
I took one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference

( By Robert Frost )
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And now so much water has flowed under the bridge. I have begun to see this poem in a new dimension. On a long journey through life one is bound to encounter ‘two roads diverging in the wood’. And more often than not we make our selection almost subconsciously. So whenever I stood to explain this poem to Almanar children I reflected on my own journey and could not help feeling tears well up in my eyes.

In my earlier posting I moaned over the five individuals in the picture below:

The 1952 school librarians

Today only one person still remains standing. The other four, all respected ‘ustaz’ in their own right, have left (Alfatihah to them). The last one to have left us was Ustaz Abdul Malek, who served as the Imam of Sydney mosque. He came from the well known ‘AlYunani’ family of Terengganu.

Looking at the above picture does not only bring me back to a distant, happy and care-free moment in time but also to a point in time which represented a corner stone, a very significant landmark in my life.

The picture was taken in 1952 ,our final year, the 7th year, at the Madrasah Sultan Zainal Abidin (MSZA). The five of us were appointed to be the first batch of librarians of the new school library. In age I was the youngest in that class because during the first four years at the school I was double-promoted twice. So by the time I reached Std 7 in 1952 I was two years younger than my classmates. All the same, many of us had something in common, A DREAM. We aspired to go for further studies at the celebrated Al-Azhar University in Cairo. Without exaggeration, many prominent Islamic scholars in the state, practically all the state ‘mufti’, ‘kadi’ etc, were the products of MSZA. This included the longest serving Menteri Besar of Terengganu, Tan Sri Hj Wan Mokhtar Ahmad.

About the time I was stepping into my final year at MSZA in 1952 my elder brother injected a fresh idea into my mind. At that point in time the idea was seen as a minor diversion from the original plan to go to Cairo immediately after MSZA. Having himself done a course in Islamic studies in Saudi Arabia, and regarded as the wiser one in our family, he felt that I should learn more English before going all out for the Arabic/Islamic education in Cairo – delaying the trip to Cairo somewhat.

Perhaps I should mention here that in 1953 there was only one Government English School in K Terenganu ( Sultan Sulaiman English School – SSES) to serve the whole state of Terengganu. There was a private English school which offered evening classes..

1952 & 1953 diary

1952 diary - ( Feb 2nd, the Federation Day - a public holiday)

My 1952 and 1953 diaries are in a pitiful state, faded and damaged by silver-fish. Nevertheless the 1952 diary had it recorded that in the evening of Friday, Jan 4th I joined the evening class at the private school. This date marked the starting point from where my English education was beginning to be taken more seriously.

Who was I to know that Friday Jan 4th 1952 was a fateful date. Unconsciously I had made a choice between the two diverging roads.
I repeat:

“I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence
Two roads diverging in a wood, and I,
I took one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.”

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To be continued …


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VISITORS’ CORNER ( P.1) – Opening page - ninotaziz

VISITORS' CORNER

For quite a while I have been thinking of introducing space in this blog for a visitor to address other visitors on a subject which is not quite relevant to any particular entry. For instance one may wish to share certain information or announcement. It may be in the form of a short entry. This is Pakcik’s first thought which I would invite my dear visitors to comment on. The main idea is to make Almanar site more interactive.

It is coincidental that a request for information has come from one of our frequent visitors/contributors, ‘ninotaziz’. She has a request to make and I am at a loss to help.

“Dear Pakcik,

I hope you can forgive my begging for assistance here. I know it is not very suitable...but I am calling out to anyone who remembers or have access to the old legend Syair Dandan Setia. Not the movie. I am drawing a blank wall.

I have bits and pieces. Major questions are ...

WHo was his father - Raja Merembat? Mother? Permaisuri Lela Mengerna?

Was he from Negeri Dendam Berahi?

Who gave birth to Intan Terpilih after eating the pomergranate that fell from the heavens?

Who was Dandan Setia's first wife?

How did Intan Terpilih become fair again - she was reborn pitch black skinned?

When and how did Dandan Setia win Intan terpilih back?”

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So here is an example of one use of our new VISITORS’ CORNER
Please someone, come to ninotaziz's rescue, giving her the information or a lead somewhere for her to get it. Thank you.


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Pakcik reminisces ( Pt 16 ) - Durian semusim gugur semusim

One afternoon early this month, having no Almanar class to conduct, Pakcik decided to sit and go through a small box of treasured ‘junks’. Among some old letters I stumbled on one handwritten letter in jawi script dated 4th Sept 2003 – more than SEVENTEEN years ago. It came all the way from Sydney and was signed by Abdul Malek Yusuf.

The letter began with: “ Azizil akhil ustaz Hj Hassan Abdul Karim ………….”

( My dear friend ustaz Hj Hassan Abdul Karim …..” ( Click on the letter below to enlarge.)

Enclosed inside the same envelope was a photograph, obviously taken in a photo studio, showing five young boys dressed in all-white school uniform. The accompanying letter said that the photo was taken way back in 1952 – more than SIXTY years ago.

Seeing the photograph my memory flashed way, way back to the distant past. I could see a school library which had just been officially opened with the five boys appointed to be the first group of school librarians.

Then I had an idea that this could be a subject of my next posting. With that thought in mind I had the letter and photograph placed temporarily on one table.

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On April 9th Pakcik had my second posting on durian tree and what it symbolised to me. Among the first few visitors was an anonymous who left a message saying, “ I just heard the news that your friend Ustaz Absul Malek (in Sydney) telah kembali ke rahmatullah. Al Fatihah”

That brief message truly shocked me, coming so soon after I had just read his letter and seen the very old picture which he chose to me, for safe keeping perhaps. From my responses in the following days visitors might have sensed my mood.

I am ever so grateful to Ninotaziz who, in her typically unique style, chose to leave the following short poem, to which I immediately responded in my amateurish way.

Ninotaziz wrote:

Pomegranates lie in wait
From the precarious moment
Its seed germinates
Such is life’s momentum

From birth to blossoms
Bearing fruits in service
Until the earth welcomes
Newly scattered seeds

Seeds of awareness.

Xxxxxxxx

Pakcik's response:

Hamba berdoa
Hamba memohon
Harapnya berbunga
Sebatang pohon

Biarpun tak berbau
Tak berwarna bunganya
Yang hamba rayu
Buahnya berguna

Harimau dan Manusia
Belang dan nama
Semuanya
Apalah guna

Kepada Mu Tuhan ku
Aku memohon
Dosa nya dosa ku
Semoga diampun

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I was then looking again at the old photograph. Ustaz Abdul Malek sat on the left and Pakcik stood on the right.

What made me especially sad then?

Of the five in the picture, Pakcik ALONE remains the only durian of that season, hanging on precariously from a branch.

Now I say Alfatihah to the fallen ones – will be joining them in due course, for sure. Durian seasons come and go ….. and the ‘good word’ (of my earlier posting) is Lailaha illallah.

Berkhidmat kerana Tuhn untuk kemanusiaan

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P/s:
1) I hope, in my next posting, I will be able to write more of my reminiscence related to the picture of the five young boys; and why Pakcik was strangely addressed as ‘ustaz’. Did I habitually have a white cap on my head?

2) Coincidentally, yesterday I made another 500 km drive to this kampong because of an unexpected death in the family. So I am Here again waiting for the last few durians of the season to fall.

A Map of Trengganu

A Map of Trengganu – watch the spelling

This is a new book by Wan Hulaimi a.k.a. Awang Goneng, a book which should be owned and read by many who enjoy his weekly column in NST every Sunday, and his blog, Kecek-kecek

I admire a person for his ability which is beyond my reach. For instance, I would look with awe at a person who is head and shoulder towering above me. Wan Hulaimi has a way with words. In Terengganuspeak I say ‘ macang maing buwoh guling’ (like playing with marbles). And I would also say he is a ‘loyar burok’ (a lawyer good in spinning). You see, by his own admission, he picked up his Law degree scroll from the office of the Registrar of the famed London School of Economics ( mind you, just a ‘school’, not quite the taraf antara bangsa ‘universiti’ we have many in Malaysia). That happened one night when the door of the Registrar’s office was left open!

I have a close friend who reads Wan Hulaimi’s weekly column. At times this friend moaned over his difficulty trying to make sense what Wan Hulaimi wrote when the latter casually dropped a name or an event. In response I would question my friend with an air of superiority – just for him- what did he think he was when I myself – ha ha - would need nothing less than the whole set of Britannica to check the famous name or event referred to by this columnist.

Awang Goneng dropped by our house one day when he was in Terengganu launching his Growing Up In Trengganu. Before he left he kindly offered to give my Almanar pupils a session on creative writing. My goodness, I nearly told him I needed that for myself more than for those children.

That is a glimpse of the writer I know. He is skilled in an area which I am lacking, hence my awe and admiration. To have a preview of the book before you go rushing to spend your last ringgit and curse Pakcik at the end of it, have a look at the following few pages of that book.

http://www.monsoonbooks.com.sg/downloads/ch1-0854317.pdf

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Moment to Reflect (Pt 4) - What’s in a durian tree, after all?

Look at the height of one older than Rayyan's granpa.

Rayyan dwarfed against the giant tree

Looking at the picture of the durian tree in Pakcik’s last posting, we cannot but wonder in awe at its size, its height, its total strength and age. The presence of that little boy, Rayyan, standing at the foot of the tree should help our imagination of its immensity. And casually I remarked that the tree was ‘older than Rayyan’s grandpa’. The grandfather of my other half, who planted the tree, probably lived long enough to taste the fruit of his work. But I cannot help feeling that his real reason was to leave something for the benefit of his younger generations, more than for himself. To-date four generations have benefited and this may not yet be the end. As I reflect on nature, the like of the surf, the sea, the coconut trees and so on which I have posted, I cannot help thinking of a beautiful parable in the Quran. Verse 24 of Surah Ibrahim says:

Surah Ibrahim - ayat 24

Sayyid Abdul A’la Mawdudi gave the following understanding: “ Do you not see how Allah given the example of a good word? It is like a good tree, whose root is firmly fixed, and whose branches reach the sky.” This is followed by the following verse (25):

Surah Ibrahim - ayat 25

Mawdudi’s understanding: “ Ever yielding its fruit in every season with the leave of its Lord. Allah gives examples for mankind that they may take heed.”

In his explanatory note, Prof Dr Hamka explained that the ‘good word’ is ISLAM itself which is built on the tree, the fundamental ‘LA ILAHI ILLALLAH.’

Mawdudi went a long way to explain verse 25 by saying: " 'The good word' is so highly productive that, were individuals or groups of people to base their lives on it, they will continually benefit from the good results ensuing from it. For it brings about clarity in thought, stability in attitude ………justice and compassion in economy, honesty in politics, magnanimity in war, sincerity in peace, and faithfulness in covenant. Like Midas, everything that it touches turns into gold.”

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A large durian tree, that bears fruit season after season, is not known in the Arab world. Yet its likeness is described in Quran – as a parable which ought to be better understood by us than the Arabs, and be put into practice as well. Let us reflect for a moment. Suhanallah.

Berkhidmat kerana Tuhan untuk kemanusiaan.

Midnight bombing?

This true story happened a week ago when I was 500 km away from my home in Terengganu, having driven that day all alone and non-stop. I was to be with my other half who was in her kampong helping to nurse her aged mother of nearly ninety. Not feeling that tired I sat watching Ajazeera. The time was midnight. They were showing bombing ecenes in Algeria. It was then the sound of a heavy thud coming from outside myhouse interrupted me – a bomb! Almost at the same time Makcik’s voice rang clear, “ Ada jatuh, babah!” – meant for me of course, happened to be the only able-bodied male in the house at that moment. I picked up the torch-light, put on a pair of Wellington boots and out I went out of the house into the darkness. A short search and there it was a big durian half stuck in the soft ground. The wind was blowing slightly, slowly shaking the branches of huge, tall durian trees around the house, each old tree about the height of four-storey building. Within a period of about two hours I picked up EIGHT huge fruit. It did occur to me what if one of these ‘bombs’ chose to land on one’s head? But I have not yet heard of one such incident.

Grand-son, Rayyan has found one - too heavy to lift

Rayyan dwarfed against the giant tree

Look at the height of one older than Rayyan's granpa.

The eight I gathered that midnight

So that mid-night I struggled to open freshly fallen durians for the the mid-night feast.

Just from one fruit. Can you finish this or open another?

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Water project in Algeria

In my posting ‘With a sigh (pt 6)” I mentioned about the water project in Algeria. This point was picked up by Awang Goneng, who left the following comment that has led me to a blog which offers very interesting read on current affairs not likely found in normal western media:

“Dear Abang Ngah, Funny you mentioned the water project in Algeria. Go to the link below and be surprised: http://poorrichards-blog.blogspot.com/2011/03/virtually-unknown-in-west-libyas-water.html#comments
But they've probably bombed it all now.”

I am very pleased to have the ‘poorrichards’ blog in my ‘favourites'. I recommend my visitors a visit to poorrichards.

Thank you Mi.

Berkhidmat kerana Tuhan untuk kemanusiaan.

It’s Weird

Yesterday morning I heard over tv of another quake in Japan, a smaller one. The bottom of the sea must have gone crazy, cracking and sending vibrations through its mass of water. And here things are truly weird. Monsoon ended over a month ago. End of March ought to see calm sea ready for ‘sotong’ season. But the poor fishermen have not been out to sea for a couple of weeks. ‘Aroh derah’ (the current is strong) they told me. Indeed the sea is unusually rough for this time of the year. Look at the picture I took yesterday afternoon. With the grey looking sea, the dark clouds threatening, it was a frightening to stand on the beach by yourself.

What colour is the sea when it is angry with the sky threatening to crash down?

If that is not enough, we have had a few days of continuous rain. A few days ago we had the second flood in two weeks – floods in March? Yesterday, after hearing about flood entering a friend's Makcik and Pakcik paid him anf family a visit. What a sight to see the ground floor of the house located in a small housing area right in the middle of this beautiful city of the global fame Monsoon Cup. Makcik and Pakcik were invited into the house WITH our shoes on! What a sight it was when the beauticully tiled floor we were familiar with was still partly covered in patches of mud. My friends showed me the pictures he took of his house under water.

The road between the houses

In front of the entrance

The sitting room

In the kitchen

The famous city of Kuala Terengganu is a city by the sea and this friend’s house is just over a kilometer away from the famous Batu Buruk ( Rotten Rock ) beach fronting the vast, open South China Sea. And this city cannot find a solution to drain itself dry of a small flood! My friend and wife spent two days cleaning their house of the mud left by the mini flood. And to think this had already happened a few years earlier.

We can only hope and pray that we would not have to go through anything the like of what the Japanese have just gone through.

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P/S; A Note from Awang Goneng.

Just before posting this Pakcik received from Wan Ahmad Hulaimi a.k.a. Awang Goneng in London, an email, specifically personal but with a short note on the latest position of his second book which many have been looking forward to. Here it goes and enjoy the first 27 pages. "My second book on Trengganu, A Map of Trengganu, has come out in Singapore but Malaysians will have to wait until the week of the KL Bookfair end of April. If you'd like to read the first 27 pages, here's where to go: http://www.monsoonbooks.com.sg/downloads/ch1-0854317.pdf"

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Terima kasih

I was about 500 km away from Kuala Terengganu when a call came through on my hand-phone. It was noon on 23rd March; the day SPM results were announced.

“ Ini Syami, Pakcik. Terima kasih Pakcik. Saya dapat semua A”, the boy’s voice came through. I could imagine a broad smile on his face. As if that was not enough I still put in a question, “How about the grade for GCE English?”

“Itu saya dapat 1A.” That satisfied me. ( Many would get A+ for the SPM English but not necessarily 1A under GCE marking, which is more meaningful to Pakcik )

This is the time of the year I can hope to share the joy of my ex Almanar pupils, those who have managed to take in all the scolding during their basic three years at secondary school level and strived forwards.


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I returned home yesterday. And this morning three boys stayed to wait in my house until I finished a class at Almanar, across the road. I was pleased to see the cheerful faces of these three boys.



Right to left: Syami (9 As), Faiz (4As) and Azrol (8As)

At least the few boys I have at Almanar can perform no less. The girls would probably come later to make merry or moan. But these three boys, from deserving families, give me enough reason to put in a quick posting. Syami is the first in his family to be tutored at Almanar, Faiz and Azrol the third in their respective families, their elders being undergraduates at various universities, one of whom is finishing dentistry in Bandung.

A note to my ex Almanar pupils:
I congratulate you all and wish you the best. This is just the beginning. To those who have not performed satisfactorily,Pakcik would remind you that this is not the end of the world. I will always offer you a shoulder to cry on. Come over and we will discuss what we can do next.

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With a sigh ( Pt 6 ) – of different kind

It saddened me to no end to hear of the UN decision on the no-fly zone involving military actions in Libya, short of ground invasion. I am no political analyst, least of all of world affairs. Perhaps I should rightly be blamed for viewing the scenerio from one narrow perspective – Arab world’s inability to correct itself; and these countries are among the world richest in natural resources! America, France and Britain are the main players. Little is highlighted of the views expressed by Russia and China.

How convenient it is to act hastily just because the Arabs themselves have asked for it!

Have we forgotten that easily the Iraq invasion and the number killed? Have we forgotten that easily the number of Muslim Bosnians slaughtered and the length of time taken before a corrective action was taken? Have we forgotten that easily how many Palestinians have been killed and are continued to be killed? Do we put aside the problems faced by persons with Muslim names applying for visa into America, and how many have been denied? Do we forget that easily how the French made sure the Muslim women do not have the freedom to dress the way the want?

Kita cepat lupa.

Members of Arab League want the Western powers to solve the problem within another Arab country – no matter what it takes because the Muslims themselves have failed!

Once, as a young boy, I was taught a saying of our great Prophet.

The greatest of all prophets drew an analogy of the relationship between a Muslim and another Muslim as a building in which different parts strengthen one another. The All-Knowing chose an Arab to be the greatest prophet and the holy Quran in Arabic. Do we not wonder why?

The long and short of it, we have failed.

Berkhidmat kerana Tuhan untuk kemanusiaan

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P/S:

Nearly twenty years ago I had a first hand story, from a very senior European engineer working in Algeria, of a fantastic unground river project for irrigation purposes. A super power was trying to spin it as a underground atomic project! The hatred for that man in Algeria began long long ago. Orang mengantuk disorong bantal.

Moment to Reflect (Pt 3) - The sea! What’s happened?

Yesterday morning when I opened our bedroom window the sight of the sea caught my attention. “ The sea! What’s happened?” I half exclaimed to ask myself.

The surface of the sea was very unusually dark, almost black, with strange formation of waves on its surface under the dark threatening sky. But I brushed what I saw aside, making belief it was just one of those things.

It was almost at the end of day yesterday when I happened to switch on Aljazeera and watched with horror the tsunami scene in Japan. Quickly I took a look at the sea and saw exceptionally heavy sea with wind blowing hard. That should not be so yesterday when the Chinese New had already signalled the end of our monsoon. Later I received a couple of calls telling me that the police had been advising people to be on the alert following the tsunami in Japan. With my other half away for a few days, here I was all alone in a house by the sea.


Second day

I spent the night, praying that I would not be awakened to hear the sound of water surrounding Nuri ( rumahku cahaya hatiku.)

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Regetting that I did not have the presence of mind to capture the sea ywsterday, I decided mkr good today. The sea has not quite turned to normal but nothing like it was yesterday. A fisherman hanging around the beach, unable to go out, remarked that yesterday’s high tide was exceptionally high. I do not think he knew what had likely triggered the condition. I made no attempt to explain.

Second day

/>

Back in my room with my lap top I began to draft this. Lines from AlQuran began to drift by - 'mauj; pl amwaj - wave, surge of the sea' . THey are quoted not less than seven times in Al Quran. In particular I am reminded of an ayat in Surah Hud ( Ayat 42 of Surah 11):

Abdallah Yousuf Ali had the following understanding: “ So the Ark floated with them on the waves (towering) like mountains …..” Yes, it relates to Noah’s Ark, the story that many of us have heard over and over again.

I wonder are ‘the waves (towering) like mountains’ reflect what we today know as tsunami? Wallahu A’lam. The Holy Book has many things way ahead of time and it is not subject to time dimension, one of its miracles. Stop for one brief moment to reflect - Subhanallah.

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With a sigh ( Pt 5 – sec III) – Awang Goneng’s Comments

( C ) Of reading books Vs
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How right Awang Goneng is. He said ‘hold on tight’
‘They probably don't read a book in a week because of tiredness and minyak Cap Kapak (for the aching limbs)’

I know, by comparison with children in other big towns, how much love for reading is among the children in my part of the country. I look at the library of a club in Kuala Lumpur and marvel at the large number of members’ children busy returning and borrowing books, each with more than one copy in hand. I visit the beautiful library of my famed bandaraya and can only draw my famous sigh at the pathetic scene.

The so-called ‘c-cafés’ are found in all the corners of my neighbourhood. They exist even in the midst of low cost housing estates. There is money to be made and the operators have no qualm over the damage their private enterprise does to the young kids. It is a common sight to see children from primary schools spending whatever little pocket money they have at these places, sometimes during school hours. Here I would like to relate a case involving a young brother of a pupil at Almanar.

One day a Form 2 pupil moaned over his failure to persuade his Form 1 younger brother to attend tuition class at Almanar, being so hooked up on computer games with friends. Whatever few cents he receives every morning from his single mother, who worked as a helper in a teacher’s home to supplement the small monthly allowance from Social and Welfare Department, would be spent on computer games. Not enough, the boy worked part-time helping to do the dishes at a food-stall nearby, just to earn a few ringgits, all for the computer games.

And now this rich state is applauded for having started distributing computers to school children. I would have thought the students at the universities ( of ‘taraf anatara bansa’, no doubt) have greater needs for them.
---------------------
We have three desk tops at Almanar for children to work on. Of late I have to begin tight control over these computers after realising that, among other things, the computers were on to provide ‘music while you work’ - working indeed! Furthermore, seeing the many prohibited items sold at ‘pasar malam’, I fear other uses/misuses of our computers; these are not unlikely hearing what the children have been saying to Pakcik. They are a clever lot on the novel uses of computers and hand-phone with cameras. These young kids are one up on Pakcik on taking pictures and sharing them through friends’ hand-phones. I only know how to operate a less-than-one-hundred ringgit Nokia, which is complicated enough for me. One day a boy confided that he had just received a picture of xxxxx through his hand phone. The subject was a known pupil of the same school! In fact the pleasure of sharing such pictures is common among his friends, girls no exception. I shuddered at the disclosure.

In short, who wants to read books which takes ages to read and understand when a computer can give all the things one needs without having a stack of reference books to page through.
------------------
Of ‘tiredness and minyak cap lapak’, I think ‘minyak cap rimaa’ is better.

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Sebagai akhir kalam, Pakcik would like to apologise if dear readers, especially teachers, do not share the views expressed above.

Berkhidmat kerana Tuhan untuk kemanusiaan.

With a sigh ( Pt 5 – sec II) – Awang Goneng’s Comments

In this second section, as promised, I will express my personal opinion on three areas contained in Awang Goneng’s newspaper column and the comment he left for Pakcik.


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(a) Of methodology

It saddens me whenever I find teachers believing that, firstly, ‘methodology’ is the tool without which teaching is meaningless and, secondly, knowing ‘exam format’ is of necessity to score good results. The business of teaching by old methods and the use of old proven reference and text books are looked upon with disdain. For the lack of these necessities I was once belittled. I relish the thought of relating in brief the occasion I was spoken of as an individual unqualified to teach.

Some time ago a secondary school, headed by a new principle with brilliant ideas, decided to introduce an ‘elite group’ in Form Three. Naturally, the group was made up of the top performers of the previous year’s Form 2 exam. The aim was, of course, the typical number game, to achieve greater number of top scorers in the PMR exam at the end of the year.

Together with their parents, about fifteen pupils with potential to satisfy the thirst for excellent results were called for a special briefing by the principle to mark and publicise the launching of this special 'elite' plan. Among the many steps to be taken for this special group – (never mind the bulk of other Form Three pupils numbering not less than three hundred) – many extra classes and special ‘camps’ would be arranged. It so happened that most of these selected pupils had been attending tuition classes at Almanar steadfastly for two years. Many of them were average performers when, two years earlier, they began their Form One at the school.

During the question time that followed, a father of one of the pupils, the top performer in that group, stood up to make an appeal that, whilst the many extra classes planned for the 'elite' group were appereciated, he hoped that his son and his friends would still have time to continue attending tuition classes at Almanar as they had been doing so for so long. In response to that appeal a senior official of the school proudly declared, in the presence of his boss, that Pakcik of Almanar was nothing more than an x-x-x- , not a qualified teacher by profession, and as such, was unlikely to be familiar with the methodology and exam format required to help pupils perform well in the exam, full stop.

The above father was so disgusted with the derogatory remarks uttered that he decided to call on Pakcik at the end of the day to relate the incident, and to say how sorry he was over the stance shown against Pakcik of Almanar. He was more than convinced that his son with 2A,2B and 1C ( the 'C' was in English) would not have progressed that far over the two years without some help from Almanar. (Incidentally the boy continued to get ‘A’ in English, Maths and Science subjects in his PMR through to SPM.)

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(b) Of extra-mural activities

Of the ‘extra-mural activities’ mentioned by Awang Goneng I have to admit belonging to the old school. My advice to pupils is to enjoy whichever games they like but never at the excessive of their studies. If it is just reading they like, by all means, so be it. But these days one is almost literally forced to take up extr-mural activities under the threat of not getting into a university without the precious 10% points – a must even if one fails in all the academic subjects which account for 90%! Pakcik would probably be a fisherman today as a punishment for getting 0% points in extra-mural activities more than half a century ago when my buddies played soccer bare-footed.


Now let us see what has become of tuition class at Almanar on a sports day.

Yesterday was a record day for Almanar. It was sports day at school and I did not know it. Children were required to attend - or be punished, so I was given to believe. As a result we had a record of ONE pupil who turned up at Almanar for Form 1 tuition class! But that was not all because the one who turned up was a boy, hence another record , 100% male!


Now who is this boy, so brave to absent himself from the school sports?

He is the third, the youngest, of three brothers in a family. His two elder brothers attended Almanar, obtained all the As they wanted in their PMR and SPM exams and are now in universities. And this little brother, in my assessment, has the highest potential of the three. I found it my duty to teach him yesterday and I did it with great pleasure ; he was so much like my own grandchildren. I think, Insya Allah, this boy will perform no less than his two successful elders.
-------------------

To be continued.


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With a sigh ( Pt 5 – sec I ) – Awang Goneng’s Comments

In the New Sunday Times of 16th January WAN A HULAIMI, better known as Awang Goneng, wrote ‘What use the newest when the method is flawed?’ copied below:

What use the newest when the method is flawed?
WAN A. HULAIMI
elsewhere@columnist.com

FEYERABEND at Sussex University in 1974 was a physical wreck, but his intellectual vigour remained intact. He walked into the lecture theatre hobbling on a crutch, and wrote three questions on the black board: What's so great about knowledge? What's so great about science? What's so great about truth?
That was classic Feyerabend. Now, just under a month to the seventeenth anniversary of his death, he is still remembered as the man who looked at method and pelted it with fruit, some ironic, some rotten, some soaked in his reductio that reduced them all to absurdum.

In conversation with a friend last week I mentioned someone -- a Malaysian -- whose skills in English language teaching was undisputed but who still remained largely ignored. "He is getting on in years," I said. "Perhaps we should tap his knowledge."

"It'll probably shine a ray of light," I said. "Now that we're wandering in a maze."

We both acknowledged that the person we were talking about had made remarkable strides. "But he may be a bit behind in his method," the friend added. "Methodology", he whispered before we both fell silent, for that was the buzzword.

Feyerabend wasn't against knowledge, or science or truth, however elusive the word. He was a philosopher of science, but when he was ill he turned to the "alternative", and it worked. Is there just one science, one way, one route to human knowledge? Or, apropos my friend, one method?

Looking at the way things are going it is easy to see the bandwagon on the road. People are always excited with this or that, the latest and the one that draws the crowd. And even that will soon fall by the wayside when a knight donning a new shining methodology comes a-riding down the road. We often forget that the business of teaching is to teach. Look at all those gleaming computers now in schools, and the Wi-Fi criss-crossing invisibly overhead. In some schools in Britain the teachers get less funding if they resist; and yet there's the Rudolf Steiner schools that refuse to have any of those newfangled gadgets and they are none the worse for that. They are probably able to know as much about Socrates as their counterparts, even if they may be lagging behind in the Facebook.

To be fair to my friend, he wasn't hitching a ride on the bandwagon but was merely stating a fact, that people can be awed by methods at the expense of results, even if it is proven again and again that old methods do work. We can have a pluralism, Feyerabend seemed to believe, even in days when he himself was clinging on to method.

In education or medicine, the dominant science dictates. The tyranny of orthodox medicine -- known pejoratively to its opponents as allopathy -- means that alternative remedies with different paradigms are attacked. There is a general disdain of learning by rote, but learning by rote carries subtle effects that cannot be measured by immediate results in terms of how the mind is shaped, how language is unconsciously absorbed. There are advantages too of course from the questioning method and the analysis of truths, so Feyerabend I guess would have set them both to the work.

"(Science) is one of the many forms of thought that have been developed by man, and not necessarily the best. It is conspicuous, noisy, and impudent, but it is inherently superior only for those who have already decided in favour of a certain ideology, or who have accepted it without ever having examined its advantages and its limits," he said in his book Against Method.

There is the danger of course in thinking that the scientific establishment, now or in the past, is neutral, and the danger of following blindly the mainstream of ideas because it is fashionable is all too obvious. Even Feyerabend's way that rejected method in favour of pluralism may be fraught, for he himself, when bemused by the criticisms of his disdain of method, said that people had failed to see the irony and the playfulness in his work. Still, it was a jolt, and a brutal reminder of how much we are taken in by the mainstream without even stopping to realise that sometimes the show, in Feyerabend's words, "has been rigged".

There are old ways and new methods. Each, as my friend the old English teacher would say, should be judged by results. For his part he has his lifetime's work to prove his worth, not bad for a man who was illiterate until he was about fifteen. He may be lagging behind as far as modern methodology is concerned, and this word came about when we were discussing English language teaching in Malaysia.

We are having problems now as we can all see and read. Our students are failing to articulate, our diplomats are at a loss for words and our teachers are using textbooks that are flawed. We are, forever, looking at what's new in the methodology, but what if the madness itself is in the method

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

Pakcik read the article with interest because in a professional way he touched on a subject which would not be possible for me to express as well. Had he written it in his popular blog ‘Kecek-Kecek’ I would have left my comments there and then. That not being the case I had what he had written copied for keep in my laptop, never expecting to have a chance to comment until I read the following comment he left on my last posting ( Is it the end of the tunnel ).

“Perhaps you should extend your horizon and take people outside your catchment area too if they want to come.

Children are loaded with extra-mural activities nowadays, from navel-gazing to marching around with fake arms (wooden guns I mean).. There are more children at school so there should be more demand for coaching.

And do I hear that some schools are suspicious of outsiders who are interested in teaching for nothing?

Hold on tight, use the free time to watch the coconut trees grow or paint dry or to listen to the kampung folk doing the ratib awor. Or you yourself can do the marhaban, after all, you have many cucus who need their heads shorn (cukur ppala).”


Here I thought I had an opening to say what I had had in mind. Readers who missed Wan A Hulaimi’s article may read what he wrote before I have my say, which I will do so in three sections, this being the first. Insya Allah the 2nd part will follow soon.





Berkhidmat kerana Tuhan untuk kemanusiaan.

Is It The End of The Tunnel - For Almanar ?

On 15th December last year I posted 'Do I call it a day or carry on?', a reflection of frustration and a sorry state of mind. The number of attendance for my classes had fallen to below fifty. Two months have passed and the situation is no better. But my gut feeling tells me something interesting will happen soon, and I hope to be able to draw a sigh of relief, and write about it.

In the meantime Pakcik will sit back, do whatever there is to do for the reduced number of pupils attending Almanar, and watch the sea from the verendah of my house,
NURI

The verendah to watch the sunrise and the sea from


The middle part of Nuri to watch the young coconut palms from

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The question is why should ‘Nuri’ be the name given to a simple retirement home – after all, I once said in a sarcastic tone, what’s in a name? Insya Allah I will clarify this.

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Of L O V E

Hari Maulud

This morning, 15-2-2011 I opened my yesterday’s newspaper to glance through what there was inside before I buy today’s. What a habit that is to browse through a newspaper a day later, just before purchasing a new one! Anyway, I noticed that yesterday was Valentine’s Day and today is our Maulud.

My other half happens to be away to visit her aged mother and I am all alone, suddenly enveloped in emptuness, with no one to say ‘I love you’. It was then a thought suddenly came to me. Somewhat excited I almost ran to get my small white board to write the following very popular Hadith.

It is appropriate to remind oneself of these words – of LOVE - especially when one is reminded of Valentine’s day; more so when it is time to celebrate Maulud.

We have someone to remember and to love , the one who left us with the following words:

Translation - ‘Tidak ada iman dalam diri kamu semua sehingga kamu mechintai saudara saudara kamu senua sebanyakmana kamu kasih dirimu sendiri.’

That is what LOVE should truly mean to us.

Must we think that the martyred Saint Valentine is anywhere up to Muhammad’s status that we need him to remind us of love?

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And so this mornng, when a small group of form 4 pupils sat in front, I gave it all with love.

At the end of the class, three girls chose to stay back to do some work on the computers. Knowing that they had come to Almanar without breakfast, I pulled out a ten-ringgit note for them to buy something from a stall nearby to eat - all for the love of it.

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Allahumma salli ala Muhammad.


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3rd Update – What’s happening?

12-02-1012
Here he comes again.
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The Old Man and the Sea.




Again at three o’clock the door bell rang loud and clear, once, twice. I rushed downstairs and through the window I saw him coming through the gate, a plastic-bagful of fish in one hand. This time I had the presence of mind to grab my camera which happened to be hanging with key rings on the wall beside the door.

“ Ada ikang sikit lagi Pakcik,” ( Some more fish, Pakcik) said the man from the sea. He was dressed in his same red and blue ‘fishing uniform’. On the chest of his top was some Chinese ( or was it Japanese ?) characters. For all you know, as ignorant as I am, he might think the writing was Bahasa Melayu saying ‘1 Malaysia’!

“Hold it there. I am taking your photograph,” I gave him the order.

I will not elaborate what he had to tell me. In a nut shell he earned about two hundred ringgits four days ago, the day he brought me some fish. And today he had a similar windfall. I was speechless.

I ended my last entry with the following:

“Semoga
Dari titisan peluh
Tuhan luaskan lagi
Rezekinya

Dalam hati aku berdoa”

One new visitor to Almanar, calling himself/herself ‘p3chandan’, kindly amen that by saying:

“ ….. mudah2 doa Pakcik kpd dia dimakbulkan Insyaallah..Amin.”

Dengan itu biarlah Pakcik akhiri cacatan kali ini dengan doa:

Semoga
Keikhlasan dan kejujuran
Membuka
Pintu rezeki dan rahmat berpanjangan

Dari hambamu
Ya Alrazzak, Alrahman

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2nd Update – Back to sea

8-01-2011

Angin Tahun Baru Cina sudah berlalu. Laut mula tenang. Terbukalah pintu rezeki.
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It was three o’clock and Pakcik was getting ready for the afternoon class when the door bell rang. Standing in the hot sun and wearing a broad smile with sweat trickling down his face was a familiar face. The moment I stepped out of the door and was within his reach, his right hand stretched out holding a plastic bag containing some fish. The man was Pak Ngah, an old man of the sea.

“ Ni ikang sikit buat Pakcik rasa. Baru balik kelauk,” the gaunt old man said in a soft voice, grinning broadly and watching straight into my eyes. (“Here are some fish for Pakcik to taste. I’ve just returned from the sea.”)



1 kg of kembong and cencaru

It was pointless trying to make a move to pay for the fish, five kembong and five cencaru ( the latter fish is called ‘ikang kerah ekoo’ in Terengganu-speak- literally means ‘fish with stiff tail’) in the plastic bag which weighed about a kilogram. It would mean a few dollars, a meaningful sum to him, but his hurt pride would be greater.

The very fresh fish straight from the sea glistened in the hot sun, reflecting nothing less than a hard day’s sweat. It was a sense of pride to be able to offer Pakcik a part of his first day’s back-breaking work at sea.

Pak Ngah is a man of about sixty. By the local standard he is still young to go to sea. He is a hard-working man who tries to earn some money doing odd jobs when the sea is too rough and dangerous. He has learnt to do simple carpentry work. Knowing that he was out of job last month I asked him to repair a small wooden gate leading out to the beach from our back garden. The gate was hanging loose as its hinges had been rusted away by the salty air from the sea. Pak Ngah did a good job of it and earned himself a small sum which he most needed.

To a simple and honest soul like Pak Ghani a gesture of kindness shown during his time in need necessitates a good gesture in return.

Makcik and Pakcik will certainly enjoy the fish coming straight from the sea but I cannot help thinking how hard it was on him - out to sea before daybreak, burning his body under the merciless heat of the sun until three – just to smile at me with about one kilogram of fish to offer. I only hope he had a good catch today.

Semoga
Dari titisan peluh
Tuhan luaskan lagi
Rezekinya

Dalam hati aku berdoa.


Berkhidmat kerana Tuhan untuk kemanusiaan

Updated - Video of 'Ombak'

The day after the CNY - 4-2-2010

Pakcik's No.1 was down here with her family for a short Chinese New Year break. Having seen Pakcik's last posting (below) of "Angin Tahun Baru Cina" she left a short video with the following message. Visitors may wish to see the scene at the beach a day before the Chinese New Year.

Here is a video recording of the ombak just before the Chinese New Year :

http://www.1tube.my/video/1585/Ombak-Pre-CNY

Pakcik's No.1

Today the wind has gone and the sea is back as calm as its usual self.

Angin Tahun Baru Cina - The end of Monsoon

I came to settle down in this part of the world, a quiet locality, good seventeen years ago during which time I have learnt certain aspects and beliefs of the local. One facet of life that one has to accept, having a home directly facing the sea, is the ferocity of Monsoon weather and all that comes with it, the effect of salty atmosphere on plants and metal parts of equipment, the inconvenience of incessant rain and so on.

But I enjoy the three months’ spell. The cool weather is a welcome change. In the shelter of my home I watch the branches of trees being swept beautifully and in unison landwards by the north-east wind, the background music-like sound of waves droning above the sound of raindrops falling on the roof, and the frightening sight of the angry sea sending rows after rows of ferocious waves to beat the shore line.


We will surely follow your order, O mighty Monsoon wind

What am I compared to the the vast sea?

This is the period I use less of the airconditioning units, substantially cutting down the size of the monthly electricity bills.

And while I sit in comfort I cannot forget to think of the hard life endured by many families when their men cannot venture out to sea to earn a meager living from the vast expense of the South China Sea, their boats lying idle on the beach.

We can take a rest till the weather is good

I have to remind myself, “ How lucky I am to enjoy the weather when many of them have less food to share.”

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Our Chinese friends are celebrating their new year. The villagers, almost 99% Malays, may not know or care when the so-called Christmas, Hair Gawai or Deposal falls but they surely know when the Chinese New Year (Tahun Baru China) is. Many even expect the day to come and be over with quickly – quietly celebrating in a different way.

The arrival of Chinese New Year signifies the end of Monsoon wind. Believe it or not I have found it so coincidentally correct that the Monsoon wind blows hard once last time about the Chinese New Year ; hence their term ‘angin tahun baru Cina’.

A couple of days ago the wind came and yesterday the sun shone bright. I can expect the sea to start calming down within these couple of days and soon the fishermen will be happy to be out in force.

Pakcik will have to wait another eight months or so to enjoy my next ‘winter’, insya Allah. Life goes on. The sea will soon be calm and I will again enjoy the beauty of sunrise during these twilight years, months or days, whatever He pleases for me.

And my grandchildren will visit us and be able to enjoy lying on their back half afloat in the calm water, watching the glorious sight of the morning sky.

Two heads and two pairs of feet keeping afloat

To our Chinese friends and relatives, indeed we have, Pakcik and Makcik wish them a happy and prosperous new year wherever they are. It is sad to receive an email late last night that an old office colleague, once a neighbour on the same street and indeed a very dear Chinese friend of my family, is in a serious condition in Sydney. Such is life.

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