All in the family ( Pt 9 ) – An anniversary

Whatever starts at one time will, without doubt, reach the end of it all – with the only exception, the One and only One.

He is there at the very beginning and will continue to be there even at the end of time.

_________________________________ 

The beginning

For this couple it began in August FORTY NINE years ago, praying, hoping and believing that it would be a bed of roses all the way. Half way to the present the couple multiplied to become five, having seen the arrival of three members of the second generation; very much to the couple's prayers and expectation.  

Two plus three young ones - halfway to the present

But today even the three young ones have aged as well

And today, forty nine years down the line, the original two have grown even larger in size with the arrival of another ten forming the third generation - not to mention the spouses of the the second generation.  

Today's enlarged clan ( regretfully, one d-i-l and the smallest grandchild are not in the picture)

___________________________ 

Having successfully travelled this far do we deserve to celebrate? 

Indeed, we do, with a day of fasting, humbled and with full of gratitude for the beds of roses that we, hand- in-hand, merrily danced through, and for giving us the patience to successfully struggle across every hedge and hurdle over the many years.

Who knows Pakcik’s clan will yet see a golden anniversary in a year’s time - Insya Allah.

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Moment to Reflect ( Pt 10 ) – Selamat Hari Raya

Aku

Tidak rimbun

Tidak menghijau

Tidak mencakar langit

Namun

Aku

Juga makhluk Nya

Juga rekaan Nya

Juga memuji nama Nya

Kepada semua yang menerima keesaan Nya

Sekalong bunga

Diiringi ucapan

SELAMAT HARI RAYA

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Moment to Reflect ( Pt 9 ) : He fashions – Al Musawwir

This afternoon I received from my No1 the following e-mail with two pictures attached.  

I think what she wrote, one of the picture and my reply to her, could, to my mind, be shared with my blog readers. It is appropriate that this being the holy month of Ramadhan.

_________________________ 

 Dear Babah,

Just to share a tomato with kalimah. We were preparing for berbuka yesterday and discovered this while cutting the tomatoes.  Nothing earth shattering but interesting enough

                                                                 Sliced tomato

___________________________

Pakcik’s reply,

Dear Enon,

It is us, humans who don’t care to or are simply unable to detect the signs of His presence.  Let us look it this way; we put our signatures on our documents as much as artists signing their master-pieces. I even put my signatures on books I buy simply to claim ownership of the books which I have no part in writing.

Naturally HIS signs are on all things, because he is the Absolute Architect, the Designer, the Al Khalik , AlMusawwir. But HE does not need to claim ownership because HE owns it all.

You have been feeding your children with salads, and tomatoes are almost a must, believing in the goodness of these vegetables. I am sure you have been cutting and slicing them the same way. But yesterday something clicked. ALLAH. The word has been there all the while but this was the first time it struck you. Yes, perhaps, He wants you to know that we all should think of the Architect and Designer, not just the food values of HIS work.

You may take it as a reward, a special gift ( in line with Lailatul Kadr that WE ALL PRAY FOR ) or as a gentle reminder that we all should be more conscious of His presence as a matter of routine, not just as and when.

May He bless us all in the family.

Love,

Babah & Mami

______________________________________ 

Perhaps if I MAY add here what I understand from the last sentence of Surah Alhasyr ( 59 ) – Ayat ( 24):

 

Muhammad Zafrullah Khan gives the following understanding of the beginning of this ayat:

“ He is Allah, the Crreator, the Maker, the Fashioner; His are the most beautiful names. All that is in heavens and the earth glorifies Him. He is the Mighty, the Wise. “

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To NINOTAZIZ – With thanks

This is my 301^st entry. This time I do not have to shake my old grey matter for idea. I am thankful to Puan Azlina – NINOTAZIZ - our talented poet/folklore specialist chose to leave her comments against my 300^th entry. Obviously, picking the concluding sentence I left in that 300^th entry, she appears to have read what I had in mind. Resourcefully and subtly she thought of leaving six lines which touches me greatly.

Here is the concluding sentence of my 300^th entry, devoid of any poetic aroma:  

“ But at this age, being a septuagenarian, how much time do I have to enjoy the sight of the autumn leaves?”

_________________________ 

And here is what NINOTAZIZ saw as a more appropriate end to the autumn leaves, bringing in fresh wind from the sea and all:

“The autumn leaf

Has a way of falling gently

A beautiful descent

Each moment

Depicting a lifetime

Of love, wisdom

A beautiful descent

Swaying in the coastal wind

And lands on bumi pertiwi”

_________________________

With NINOTAZIZ’s  permission I am copying below what she wrote in her email to Pakcik and Makcik following her above contribution for my 301^st blog entry.

_________________________ 

“Sometime in August for three weeks in a row, NST would feature three articles, or rather Hikayat by me in its pullout, School Times. Perhaps you can use it for your students. It is simplified and short as that was NST's requirement. I was flabbergasted when they wanted me to tell Awang Sulong Merah Muda in less than 400 words…but with Mum's help, I think we managed to pull it off!

And from 1st August onwards, I will be on Bernama Radio 24 at night Monday to Friday for about 5 to 10 minutes, telling Malay  folklores and legends, in English though. If your students want to listen in, it would be great. I will let you know the time slot when they have decided. It's about 10.10pm  Ithink.

Other than that, take care and Selamat Berpuasa. Our love to the whole family.

Best regards
 Zalina Abdul Aziz @ ninotaziz

ninotaziz on Hikayat Melayu”

__________________________ 

I feel certain many of us would want to read NINOTAZIZ’s  3  articles to be featured in NST in August; and hear her on Bernama Radio 24. I, for one, am very proud to have among us, apart from Awang Goneng, talented persons like her. I know of at least one other talented personality who will make the public appearance shortly.

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Pakcik Reminisces ( Pt 32 )  -  Almanar’s 21^st  & 300^th Posting

This is Pakcik’s 300^th posting for Almanar website, the first being on 20.7.2006, six years ago to day to be exact. This year also marks the 21^st year since the private Alamanar trust was established in 1992. I sit reminiscing and decide to share with my dear visitors.

It all began with the end of my 30 years of working life. For several reasons I was very pleased that all had gone well with my family and our life in general. The burning question was whether, without a pension, we would survive on whatever saving (EPF and shares) and gratuity money I received. The answer was positive on condition we would slow down on our social activities which we had been enjoying over the years. Instead of being active members to three premier golf clubs it was time to call it a day and hang my clubs for good. For the good life we had had expressed our gratitude by establishing a small family trust fund for charity activities.

In particular I was delighted that my other half gave her consent that we moved our home away from Kuala Lumpur to another location where we would manage a simpler life, and in so doing we would leave our children in KL to fend for themselves without our interference with their family life. They had to learn to do what we had to thirty years earlier, raising them to be what they were. We have to show them that life goes beyond being of service to own family but to the community around us.

__________________________

A year before we finally decided to leave KL I started looking for a piece of land in Kuala Terengganu. As chance would have it, I met an old school mate who was now a known personality in the village and who belonged to a landed family. When questioned for my purpose to settle in this quiet locality I casually mentioned that I would want to help local children. His spontaneous action surprised me. Without much further thought he showed me six plots of land from which I was free to choose. I decided on two pieces of land, each measuring one acre. One has a sea frontage.

Further surprise was waiting for me when he insisted that I named my price, putting me in a very difficult position. But I did and he accepted with a smile.

Sadly, that dear friend passed away several years ago. Today, it is a normal practice at Almanar that the children would recite Alfatihah for this dear man and for other individuals who had a hand in the growth of this humble one-man tuition centre.

__________________________  

When I started writing the Introduction to this blog on 20.7.2006, I only had a vague idea that this was going to be some kind of notes of events related to Almanar tuition centre which was beginning to show some progress. Blogging was Greek to me, but my three children relentlessly persuaded this old horse to post in blog instead of merrily using pen and pencil, the habit I acquired during my school days.

Gift from my children - Old fashioned brfitting the intended user!

I am glad I started. Six years today I have managed to post an average of 50 entries per year, making this the 300^th posting. A very pleasant surprise, something I never bargained for, is the emergence of visitors who care to leave comments at a modest average of 10 per month. It is so unlike my school boy diaries. But of course the latter is full of ‘secrets’ which I would not wish my grandchildren to read! So I need to be wary of the fact I cannot put down in blog entries what can the privacy of my secret diaries.

 Part of my treasured possession – Not for public viewing!

Be that as it may, responses from readers give me cheers and encouragement when my Almanar tuition is not going as expectation. On a number of occasions I became so disheartened that I wished to call it a day. But messages from my visitors seemed to tell this old horse to buck up and keep pushing forward.

But at this age, being a septuagenarian, how much time do I have to enjoy the sight of the autumn leaves?

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A Thought - A Wish

It comes every year, a chance to show that we are human, durable and willing to be subjected to rules and regulations, and believing in rewards and punishments.

I ask myself whether I am starting to do what I am doing today because I am a Muslim, full stop. But I wonder what goes behind this yearly ritual. It cannot simply be the need to understand hunger and to appreciate poverty.

I wonder.

When I was a child I was told that if you are lucky you will bump into the elusive Lailatul Qadr somewhere in the dark of the night towards the end of the holy month. There is a subtle message somewhere.

I   wonder.

This is just a thought and I wish my Muslim readers a fruitful month of Ramadhan, and wish that this may not be our last.

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From our garden ( Pt 1 ) – My poor coconuts

If I had a gun I would shoot those damned squirrels. Tell me I am cruel and I’ll say, "Get lost".

Look at what they have done to my coconut – stealing its water!

And look at their spoils on the ground.

__________________________________

But don’t shoot the one below - one of Pakcik’s ten beloved 'squirrels’.

 

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Pakcik Reminisces ( Pt 31 ) – In Sentimental Mood

It was past midnight and I was alone in the house; ‘For once – deserted’ as I wrote on 01-06-13.  On the TV  screen standing hardly two meters away was an Arabic musical programme, and held in one hand was a book, one of Adibah Amin’s. I do not think I was truly concentrating on the book nor the TV programme. Out of a sudden I was startled out of my reverie when a very familiar voice was singing an old favourite. It was the unmistakable Arabic song by none other than the late singer, Farid el Athras ( 1915 – 1974 ).  

“ Ya zahratan fi khayali; raaituha fi fua’di, ( “Oh flower in my imagination that I guarded with my heart and soul”
 The opening line was being repeated several times.

Instantly those lines flew me way back to the days of the early 1950’s when I was struggling with my Arabic, the anticipated passport to my future – the aborted dream of further studies in Egypt. I reckon those days were the beginning of an age when I think most young people go through; I call it the age of romanticism, when one begins to dream and fantasise. The lyrics of some Arabic songs and the like of P Ramlee’s Merak Kayangan and Indonesian keroncong, Bengawan Solo, helped to open the door into my fantasy world. 

In black-and white film Farid el Athras, looking very smart, was singing for a young couple swaying on the dance floor to the rhythm of tango, smooth and graceful. My eyes hardly blinked staring at the screen.

       __________________________________________    

Farid el-Atrash   Oh Flower in My Imagination Oh flower in my imagination that I guarded with my heart and soul The nights damaged her And their hands caused her to wilt And their eyes bothered her And thus died the magic of her eyelids (meaning her petals perhaps?)

She was my passion, I've lost everything
So I've removed the love from my heart and soul
I've given my chords and my melodies to the ages
I sang to heal my wounds
I am a bird in the hills of art singing for the birds, for the flowers, and for the branches

فريد الأطرش - يا زهرة في خيالي
يا زهرة في خيالي رعيتها في فؤادي
جنت عليها الليالي وأذبلتها الأيادي
و شاغلتها العيون فمات سحر الجفون
يا غرامي كل شيء ضاع منى فنزعت الحب من قلبي و روحي
و وهبت العمر أوتاري و لحني و تغنيت فداويت جروحي
أنا طير في ربى الفن يغنى للطيور للزهور للغصون

                          ____________________________  

           

Past fleeting scenes came through my mind’s eye with clarity; but they were no more than just scenes of happy moments. It ended with a strange tinge of regret that it all had to have an end.

C’est la vie.

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End of the Tunnel ( Pt 22 ) – A teacher I want to be

In early 1998, more than FIFTEEN years ago a petite young girl together with several other children joined my Form One tuition class at Almanar. At that point of time I had just known the PMR results of my first batch of children who joined Almanar three years earlier ( and I was a younger Pakcik as well! ) The results were beyond expectation, and it was that first taste of success which made this Pakcik ( is he any older now? )  more aggressive, pushing the new group with greater gusto. This little girl, whose father was a teacher, was one of the victims.

I call this girl Yani (short for Hazliyani ) whose father is a retired teacher. Through experience I am fairly convinced that the likelihood of finding successful children in the field of academic is in a teacher’s family. ( Neither of my parents was a teacher – that’s telling, doesn’t it? ) I am sure Yani must have told her parents of this aggressive pseudo-teacher at Alamanar. However, I very much suspect, being an experienced teacher her father knew better not to take her side that easily.

After her years at Almanar, Yani disappeared from my horizon for quite a while, possibly licking her wound. It was a pleasant surprise indeed when a couple of weeks ago, I was handed a card, an invitation to my little Yani’s wedding.  

I could not wait to be at the wedding party early enough to take a couple of photographs. When Yani’s father caught sight of me his face brightened with recognition. After exchanging a few words he rushed upstairs and no sooner had Yani’s face appeared I hurried upstairs as well to meet her.

Excitedly she exclaimed, “ Pakcik !!! Pakcik mari ! Mana Makcik?” ( Why Pakcik, you are here !!! Where’s Makcik? ) That and her broad smile made my day. I had to explain to her why Makcik was not around (the subject of my earlier posting.)

Yani & Salam

 

Since I was early at the party, Yani’s father could spare me a few minutes. Yani, now a teacher, was marrying a teacher as well and both are teaching in a village school just about 60 Km away. Her hero, named Salam (short for Darusalam) is, in fact, a resident of that village.

“ Yani itu degil. Mati, mati hendak jadi guru juga ( Yani is stabborn. She would not want to be anything but a teacher,” claimed Yani’s father with a smile.

Indeed, Yani is now a teacher, whose father was a teacher and she has decided to have a teacher for a life-mate. Who knows, insya Allah, this new couple will be blessed with children not without teachers aming them  – to be of service to mankind.

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For once, deserted

My elder son has swiped my beloved other half to Umrah with his wife and two children; my second son is gallivanting with his wife around the Wild West, and my only daughter is doing whatever in Morocco.

Here, all alone, dead tired after washing clothes, drying and ironing, going to sea to catch some fish, cooking and doing the dishes, sweeping the floor and making own bed, watering flower and vegetable plants, coconut palms and all, I have to sleep all alone, scared of the ghosts in the dark – but I have HIM to pour my heart’s contents to in the middle of the night.

Isn’t that life?

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I met my seniors ( Pt 1 ) – Don’t trust IC number

Why is it so hard for some to declare their age? We need to steal a glance at someone’s Identity Card and the number tells it all. It is as easy as that, isn’t so?

One of my lunching friends from the Group of 1955 says that according to his IC number he was born in early 1936 making him 77 now. Discreetly he keeps reminding me that he expects respect from me because he is very much older, hence my senior.  His elders helped to cheat on his date of birth to make him young enough to be eligible to join the Secondary English school after completing his Primary Malay School.  I have heard this sort of claim from elder members of my family. It was normal before our Independence, before we even thought of IC. So if I say I am 76, showing my IC as proof, you need not believe that I am that YOUNG! I could have cheated to convince my Makcik that I was not too old to be married to!  In short, this friend I often go to lunch with, is my senior. I call him Dzul for Dzulkifli, spelt differently from the accepted spelling, Zulkifli.  Now do not let me digress into explaining the reason/reasons for the spelling of his name. If I do that I would be tempted to tell the world that I own THREE names, all legally documented, plus at least two other names. Persons of my age group and older would do wonders with age and name just for a simple reason.

 

My senior, Dzul (L) and Hj Abubakar

            

Lesson to learn: Do not always trust an IC number nor trust the name shown!

Knowing that Dzul is senior to me, not just in age, mind you, I give him his due respect. At times I salute him in recognition of his old position as a Major, a commanding officer in the Territorial Army (Askar Wataniah), for which he was awarded with PJK, AMN etc and I am just a simple Pakcik, full stop. You see, he was all for voluntary work long before I understood what services for the community meant. Now let us go back to this IC business.

One day last week, on my way home from shopping with my other half I was waved down at a road block strategically set up soon after a sharp bend. I always think that this is a devious and an unfair way to catch an errant motorist like me. Standing humbly in front of the police man I did not have to see his IC to tell that the he was a young officer paid to do a job.  And I knew it too well, why I had been stopped. Both of us, my good wife and me, did not have our safety belts fastened. Dutifully, as requested, I handed over my driving license and Identity Card.  At the same time I pleaded to be excused.

“ Encik ( Mr ), we have just come out from a shop around the corner. Pakcik ( I )am an old man and I have no intention of breaking the law willfully. Please look at Pakcik’s age on the IC. An old man like me forgets some time. I cannot drive very fast and we are close to our home.”  

It was the power of suggestion and my addressing myself as a humble ‘Pakcik’ (Uncle) instinctively made him look at my IC number to determine my age. Well, I knew it worked when I saw his face breaking into a smile. Changing to a much gentler voice he addressed me,  “Pakcik, my father and you are of the same age. Pakcik may go now. Please, don’t do it again.” If only he realised that it was my third time to be caught and all were at the same spot as well!

You see what happened when one believed an IC number. 

Any way I will remember to fasten my seat belt before coming to that sharp bend again in future. As I have to pass that almost every day I hope I would automatically fasten my seat belt before reaching that corner.  The fourth time may not be as lucky. Someone may be sneaking behind a tree somewhere before the corner scrutinising me and my seat belt.

  _____________________________________    

That is just the prologue to this short series. It is all about age and IC numbers.

My yesterday class at Almanar started late, at four in the afternoon to be precise. Having so much time to myself, from morning until four, I contacted my lunching ‘senior’, Dzul and suggested a drive to Kuala Berang about 40 Km away from K Terengganu. A week earlier there was a short write-up in a daily about a man named Idris who was 109 and healthy. That intrigued and prompted me to learn the secret of longevity!

As planned, the two of us left his house at nine sharp. It was a pleasant morning’s drive with me co-piloting my ‘senior’ driver. Soon he was getting irritated with the number of traffic lights he had to stop and start. Believe it or not we had to go through 30 traffic lights on that 40 Km trip to Kuala Berang. On our way back I did the counting, meticulously giving a tick on a piece of paper each time we reached a traffic light along the four-lane highway. Terengganu city planners seem to have special craze for traffic lights and one-way streets!

To pacify Dzul I expounded the theory behind the number of traffic lights and one-way streets. Our learned city planners want to be sure that visitors to beautiful Terengganu drive round in circles and stop at as many places as possible and go round in circles in order to make them stop to watch and appreciate the beauty of this city and its environments, instead of whizzing through without as much as digesting messages on the many gigantic billboards along the roads and at road junctions. Keropok lekor and nasi dagang should not be the only reason for ‘visit Terengganu year’.  

In Kuala Berang we were joined by another senior person. His name is Hj Abu Bakar, a cousin of Dzul’s father, and he is 84 years old, according to his IC. Looking at Dzul and his Pak-sepupu ( father-cousin) I do believe he is 84.  

 

It is not inappropriate to make a stop here. I have more things to write about these senior people mentioned above.

Berkhidmat kerana Tuhan untuk kemanusiaan.

With a sigh ( Pt 15 ) - Fateful month of May

In Pakcik Reminisces series (Pt 7 ) on 15^th May 2009 I began as follows:

“13^th May comes and goes every year. But 40 years ago one 13^th May came and is gone forever, leaving and indelible memory of an event – the fateful 13^th May 1969 and the few days that followed.”

     

                             

The unbelievable sight of the main road of KL ___________________________________________________         

Today is another 13^th  May, 44 years following that of 1969. I was a young executive who had to be on the road with a special permit to go about the deserted city under curfew.  I had a duty to perform. It was scary and today I draw a sigh as I reminisce.

Having experienced the general feeling immediately after the tragedy of May 1969 general election, I cannot help sensing a minor similarity between the atmosphere then and that after the recent election. No, I am not referring to the tragic consequences but in the general feeling of many people as reflected in the mass media in May 1969 and what has been expressed during the last one week – fear and hope.

                                                The report

Majelis Gerakan Negara ( National Operations Council)

Two great politicians of our country, the late Tun Abdul Razak and the late Datuk Muhamad Asri Muda, heading two opposing parties, saw it fit to lay a new foundation for this country for a cohesive and more harmonious and progressive future. It was not just for the Malays but for all living in this blessed land.

Alas, if only we can rekindle that spirit of unity all over again, I can carry on reminiscing with a sigh in every month of May, that all is not being wasted. After all, the cake has grown big enough for every one to share and enjoy. 

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You are the judge

Come to my part of the world to witness how they battle tooth and nail, for what?  

                 

                     (Regret, pictures cannot be enlarged)

                  

                              Approach to Jalan Batu Rakit Pantai

                         

                                

                               Coming into the road along the beach

                               

From the sea crawls the turtle

We are watching you from up abovee

Under our shadow we assure you of your future

 

 

We have submarine

                                             

Ha, ha, we have a secret vehicle to deliver jet plane!

You don’t think we have a more fearsome fighter plane, do you?

And we have super rider

Not to mention our stuntmanl!

You are really forcing us to use our big gun

==================================

What a shame. While they are squabbling  we have come to cast our vote peacefully

                              

                  And some of us are tired of waiting. It is so hot out there

=============================== 

And let me tell you all, my friends

The Judgment Day is sure to come.

Your worth will surely be weighed.

Be sure all that glitters is not gold

 Let it not be as they say "Menang jadi arang, kalah jadi abu".

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