With a sigh ( Pt 7 a ) - Poor little thing

I scolded her for not showing interest after three classes at Almanar. Let us call her Ani for simplicity. She proved herself lazy. She could not read a simple sentence. She did not know the meaning of simple words like face and cook. She had, a few days earlier written those words in her ‘vocab book’ which Pakcik gave to everyone on the very first day at Almanar. That is how important ‘vocab book’ is at Almanar in learning English – the way all Pakcik’s children were made to keep and learn.

A few harsh words were said and pakcik could see her eyes brimming with tears. She was sensitive, after all. Later I pulled her aside for a few more words.

When the class was over I went over my notes on the children of that special class – special because it was a newly formed class made up of ten orphans and the rest from poor parents. Then the reality began to dawn on me.

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

Ani is a girl of thirteen from a town about 150 km from here. A diminutive ‘little thing’ was my first thought of her when I first saw her. When she was a baby, a childless old couple adopted her. Today, Ani has no idea who her real parents are, whether dead or alive. Unfortunately, her foster parents are poor, too, financially and academically. Under such circumstances, she grew up through her first six years of primary education without any help at home. One would, then, quite naturally expect her to acquire something from her six years at her primary school. But what she achieved for her UPSR exam was EEEEE – 5 capital Es for the five subjects ! I am not surprised if her school is in fact one of those which have contributed towards making Terengganu the proud state for being the champion state in achieving AAAAA – 5 capital As – in every UPSR examination during the last several years.

Then I ask myself what had Ani’s primary school administration, the Head, her teachers, the guru ‘motivasi’, the lot of them, including PIBG, ever done for this pathetic-looking ‘little thing’ ? In my mind, had she been abused as a child labour at rolling ‘keropok lekor’, she would have been an expert at it today, able to earn herself and her aged foster parents a few cents a day. But, after six years of primary school education in a champion state this 'poor little thing’ had not learnt her ‘face’ and ‘cook’.

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

Two days ago, I approached her again with simple questions. She had got them! And there was the glimpse of a smile on her face; the 'poor little thing’, I thought, had begun to learn something. I have learnt something, too. Now she will be handled with kid’s gloves. But how much can I do it all myself, with limited time allowed and when she has eight subjects to learn at school – plus the ‘wajib’ (compulsory) extra curricular ( koko ) activities imposed by to-day’s education system? It would be a sad thing if she, one day for the entry into a local university ( of the famed taraf antarasa bangsa, of course ), gets EEEEEEEE – all 8 Es - in her SPM despite the full 10% points from her ‘koko’.

With a sigh,
We will try.


Berkhidmat kerana Tuhan untuk kemanusia

Nisfu Sya'ban

Today, in a modest way we celebrate Nisful Sya’ban. And today coincides with our third child’s (stress on ‘child’) 39th birthday, just twelve months to forty - not making the two of us any younger, though. Somewhere he may be celebrating the day with his other half and their ‘three Charlie’s angels’. With love we wish him and his family all the best.

Berkhidmat kernaa Tuhan untuk kemanusiaan

Pakcik reminisces ( Pt 19 ) - Truly FOREVER

( A ) The last issue

Thank you and good bye. What a simple headline for a sensational newspaper. And on Sunday 10th July 2011 the curtain fell on the News of the World an old British Sunday newspaper that had survived since 1843 - 168 years in print!

“So what ?” one might ask. Indeed it does mean something to me. It is one of those items in my life that stretch my memory back, this time, to half a century ago.

An innocent young Malay lad was transported away from home to settle in an English home with lads from five other countries but Malaya; from Iraq, South Africa, India, Peru, and a working man from North Ireland. And the landlady who looked after the house and cooked for them was an elderly lady from Scotland, Mrs Robertson, a widow. At first the Malay lad thought at least he had for company a fellow Muslim from Iraq. He had that impression when during their conversation the Iraqi stated the best Arabic text is in the Quran. At the breakfast table came the surprise. The Iraqi seemed to be enjoying his bacon and egg! He turned out to be a Christian. Nevertheless, the atmosphere in the house, called ‘digs’, was one of friendliness. In the morning they trouped out on their bicycles heading for the same college, and every evening they met at the same dining table, the early arrival trying to secure one of the chairs with coal fire burning hot at the back. Oh, what a pleasure it was to come in from the cold to warm the palms of you hands in front of the fire!

It was those early days the Malay lad began to get acquainted with English newspapers. The Times was a heavy reading. But people would steal a look at you if you carried one. The young lad settled for Manchester Guardian, politically known to lean towards the opposition party of that time.

Then on Sundays there was the News of the World. What a paper that was, concentrating and specializing in sex scandals in lurid details. The lad never had that sort of eye-opener back home in Utusan Melayu (in jawi). This was exciting beyond words. However it did not take for him to learn that people read this paper on the quiet but showed expression of distain towards people who read it. ‘Wasn’t this a form of hypocrisy?’ the boy often wondered. Half a century ago, the standard of morality in the mass media was still conservative. So, quite naturally, the lad began to learn how not to show his liking for that Sunday paper. Fold the paper and tuck it nicely in the inner pocket of your overcoat. And every few days or so, flash your copy of Manchester Guardian. That did the trick. That was, indeed, a sign of sophistication in that boy from Malaya, some of whom thought was located in Singapore!

So, on the quiet I enjoyed News of the World, making doubly sure that I showed my liking for Manchester Guardian – but I truly did enjoy both.

It is a shame the paper has to go. But nothing lives forever, I suppose. Even my Manchester Guardian has lost its Manchester.

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

( B ) The man I knew.

Having freshly seen the end of a ‘great’ newspaper I was saddened to read the demise of a person I used to know well. Raja Aziz Addruse, the three-time Bar Council president. He passed away on Tuesday, 12th July. I have not seen him the last twenty years. The last time we had a chit chat was at the Lake Club when my family used to frequent that very special club in KL.

Raja Aziz was in UK about the same as I was (the time I was enjoying the News of the World ). At the same time my old class-mate of ’55 was also in UK doing his law. The latter was Tan Sri Wan Adnan who showed his brilliance in breezing through his course in two years when others laboured for three. Sadly he passed away prematurely, just one short sure step to take over the topmost post of he judiciary.

In the early ’60, our bachelor days, the three of us used to share a room on top of a shop house on Jalan Traverse, KL. Imagine how close we were then. But our careers brought us adrift, though Wan Adnan, and his family, remained close right to the end.

We shared a lot in common. We enjoyed the same age and were shipped to the same country to study. Today,of the three, I am the only one left behind, to reminisce and say my prayers and AlFatihah in memory of their valued friendship. I no longer need to remind myself that nothing, no one lives FOREVER, in all its majesty and glory.

The much celebrated surah Al Rahman has this to remind me.

“All that lives on earth is doomed to die. But the Face of your Lord will abide FOREVER, in all its majesty and glory” - Dawood



Berkhidmat kerana Tuhan untuk kemanusiaan

Not forgotten

In two cars they arrived, unannounced. They knew they would always be welcome to the house they got to know the inside and outside ten years ago; because they have not forgotten.

The seven young ladies


Way back in early 2001 these seven girls belonged to a group that joined Form 1 tuition class at Almanar. Today they still remember and talk with fondness the events of those days at Almanar and Nuri. The pain and frustration – and joy too - of those days are now being played back gleefully and with how-silly-we-were-then laughs. Each brought along a little ‘buah tangan’. One of them had two huge crabs (weighing 600 gm), still alive and kicking, her father’s catch.


I cannot imagine how six of these seven girls, a nurse and five with BSc degrees in various fields, have all just completed their studies. Only one, who did radiography, graduated earlier and is working at a university.

The visit, the ‘buah tangan’, crabs and all were not timed to celebrate a teacher’s day or a father’s day. To pay homage, to express respect, love and affection, one does not need a special occasion.

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

To the seven young ladies : Makcik and Pakcik thank you. You are not forgotten. Perhaps the day will soon come when the seven of you drop in to hand your special invitation cards, for a very special occasion - all happening in one year, too, insyaAllah.

Biarpun bulan dan tahun berlalu
Biarpun disilangi penat dan pedih
Biarpun berat beban dibahu
Tak munkin hilang jalinan kasih



Berkhidmat kerana Tuhan untuk kemanusiaan

Auspicious days and love

A bouquet of red roses is still standing on the dressin table. And a minute ago I was looking at my in-coming emails and noticed an old one that came a few days ago from my daughter in India. There were telephone calls too. All were expressions of love for a father on the Father’s Day.

(Earlier we had the Mother’s Day, the Valentine’s Day, Labour Day etc. apart from the more personal ones like anniversary , birthday and so on.)

Right now I am alone in our bedroom because my Makcik is spending a few days visiting her aged mother. And she had her share of Mother’s Day too not very long ago. In a quiet environment and all alone like this, looking at those beautiful red roses, I remember my parents. My father passed away when I was away studying some fifty years ago. My mother died in Mecca over forty years ago. Those were days I never knew of the so-called Father’s and Mother’s Day. So I was never into that.

Do I not love those two most important individuals in my life?

I remember both of them today and every day in my prayers. I even seek HIM to pass on to them whatever rewards HE wishes to give me for any good things I do to day. I want them to share, as a little reward from me for having raised me those difficult years.

Don’t we all wish this of our children? To deserve being loved, let us give them love, not simply the Valentine way.


Berkhidmat kerana Tuhan untuk kemanusiaan

Darul Akhyar (Pt 3) - Alhamdulillah

About 100 poor children and orphans have registered at Darul Akhyar. Although no Form 3 pupils were planned to be taken in, to avoid interruption to their studies before PMR exam in six months’ time, ten of them have finally been accepted as they happen to be from this locality and are already attending the very school the other Darul Akhyar children will go to.Also admitted into Darul Akhyar are twelve children of Form 4. Realising the need to help without delay these two older groups of Form 3 and 4, we have already started tuition classes for them.

Next week we hope to start classes for Form 1 and 2 pupils. So Pakcik is starting to be kept busy again, and with more enthusiasm as well.

Not long ago the position was one of despair. It even crossed Pakcik’s mind to call it a day. But now unexpected help has come to keep Almanar running at full swing again. Soon children will come and go by vanloads.

To end this longish posting allow Pakcik to quote part of a short Surah from AlQuran, Surah Alnasr (no 110). I am drawn to think of this Surah because it is so strange to see certain parts of the Surah carrying ertain similarity to what is happening at Almanar.

It has been widely documented that this Surah was known to be the last Surah to be revealed to the Prophet (SAW)in its complete form. When he first recited this, a couple of his companions were seen to shed tears. They understood the implication of this Surah, a signal that the Prophet had completed his mission on earth. This Surah was revealed about the time our Prophet gave his famous Great Farewell Speech (khutbah alwada’), giving a clear indication of pending departure. True enough, within a couple of months from these two incidents, our Prophet (SAW) left us.

Part of Alnasr

When comes Allah’s help, and victory; and you see people joining Allah’s religion in droves; give glory to your Lord and seek His pardon …..

And now I see the help He has given and how suddenly droves of new pupils coming to Almanar – and I say ‘Subhanakallah waghfirli zanbi.’ For me a great challenge lies ahead and for these very poor children and orphans I cannot afford to fail.

Berkhidmat kerana Tuhan untuk kemanusiaan

Darul Akhyar (Pt 2) – Who drew the plans ?

a) Search for peace and enlightenment.

Twenty two years ago we felt we had had enough of living like nomads and had seen enough of the bright lights. We deliberated and decided to settle down in Kuala Terengganu, years before it was declared a world-class city with Monsoon Cup and all.

We thought it was very fortunate that we already had a plot of road-side land just south of the town and within sight of the beautiful Masjid Terapung of KT. The mosque often imports imams from overseas for tarawikh prayers in the months of Ramadan. How nice it would be to be praying there.

Plans were drawn and duly submitted; but just as we were about to get the final approval the authority decided to widen the road in front. If we were to go ahead we had to set back and down-size our house, and be happy with hardly any front yard. Life would no longer be ideal with limited space around and with the likely dust and traffic noise.

With a heavy heart we had to abandon the thought of a quiet life near a beautifully designed mosque. Further south we went in search of an ideal site; this time a land with sea-frontage. That part of the coast-line is beautiful, with the enchanting view of Pulau Kapas, and within a short distance from the taking off point to the island. We could entertain visitors to the island, a pleasant thought. Unfortunately, such land as we were looking for was hard to find for sale, forcing us to move elsewhere. We decide to go north of town.

Again we thought we were fortunate when we finally came close to clinching a deal for a two-acre ground by the sea, and this time it was not very far from the airport. How convenient it would be for us to get flights to KL, and to be receiving and sending off our guests. But this was not to be as well. Just before we decided to close the deal, we came to know that the DCA (Department of Civil Aviation) would object to any plan for a two-storey building in its vicinity. So that put paid to that plan and dream. We were back to the square one.

The search for land now moved further north and, by divine intervention, I met Ghawi, an old classmate from my days at the Madrasah Sultan Zainal Abidin (MSZA), a good forty years earlier. It was an unexpected reunion of sort, and to our delight and good fortune this old friend, a well-known figure in that area, owned some prime plots of lands in that part of town. He took us around to view at least six sites, and it surely did not take us long to fancy two plots, each about an acre, separated by a long straight coastal road. One plot faces the open sea with the view of Pulau Redang and Pulau Bedong in the distance, and the second plot is right across the dividing road.

When I informed Ghawi of our interest in the two pieces of land, he casually asked why I had wanted the second piece of land across the road as well. To that question I gave a spontaneous answer - Today, I live to wonder how the idea was put into my head - Casually and as a matter of fact I answered, “Oh, buat tempat mengajar budak budak.” (Oh, just a place to teach children). Of course I had wished to help tutoring village children in a broad sense, but never a proper building on an acre of ground.

What was to happen next was simply amazing. When I asked Ghawi what price he would put on the property, he looked straight into my eyes and with a straight face said, “Ustaz, bayarlah apa yang utaz rasa nak bayar (Ustaz, just pay me whatever you like to pay ; the term ‘ustaz’ is often used locally to address with respect a person who teaches religion.) Incidentally,I do not know of anyone else who ever called me ‘ustaz’ because I never was.

It turned out to be a strange business negotiation, I kept pressing him to quote a price and he adamantly wanted me to pay whatever I chose. Ultimately I named a price which he readily accepted without batting an eye lid.

My friend Ghawi died six years ago. He lived long enough to see what had become of his land. The man had no greed over the sale of his property. And today whenever I remember him I offer him Al Fathihah, a small way to compensate for his generosity. He has a share in my Almanar.

Because of Ghawi we are where we are, peaceful and happy. We have Nuri (our enlightenment) and Almanar (The beacon – the light house that helps to give guidance and correct direction.) And we have enough activities to occupy our time.

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

b) Chances and probabilities

I must apologise for writing a thesis on my search for a place to retire. With that I wish to highlight how ‘destiny’ or 'fate' works in its wondrous way. That was TWENTY years ago.

For all the length ( Terengganu has 225 kilometer of coastal stretch ) and breath of Terengganu, the religious authority of this state has chosen to site Darul Akhyar on Jalan Batu Rakit Pantai, the very road our Almanar is, hardly one kilometer away. Above all, one objective of this pilot project is to help educate needy children in the state, the very objective I dreamt of for Almanar nearly 20 years ago - except that Almanar is to restricted to serve the community in its vicinity.

As if that is no enough, a new secondary school was opened four months ago. It is about five kilometers away and has enough places to easily accommodate the bulk of pupils accommodated in Darul Akhyar.

The mathematical side of me wonders - what are the chances and probabilities for the above events to happen?

Should there not be a Great Planner orchestrating the complicated routes taken by Almanar, Darul Akhyar and a secondary school to finally be so close to one another with education as the main theme?

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

I have already met the first Principal/Warden of Darul Akhyar, a man with many years of experience running a large orphanage in the state. In the course of conversation he declared,“ I want to prove that these children, given the helps they need, will make good in life.” (How this reminded me of my declared objective when Almanar Trust was dreamt of 20 years ago.)To achieve what he was aiming for, he needed help. When Pakcik offered assistance from Almanar, his spontaneous response was, “ Orang mengantuk disorongkan bantal.” (A sleepy head is being offered a pillow.)


To conclude ……


Berkhidmat kerana Tuhan untuk kemanusiaan

Darul Akhyar (Pt 1) – A pilot project

In the absence of an official explaination I would translate this expression as ‘Home for the Elite’.

View from outside

The religious department of Terengganu known as MAIDAM ( Majlis Agama Islam Dan Adat Melayu) has for the first time built and will operate a home for ‘anak anak fakir dan yatim’ ( poor children and orphans). There are other homes in Terengganu, but they are run by NGO’s, and they serve orphans exclusively. Darul Akhyar, on the other hand, is built for the very poor, orphans and others alike, with emphasis on their education. This new approach is as a very positive and welcome development in the state.

On the entrance wall

This pilot project is sited on a four-acre ground and the complex is capable of accommodating up to 200 children of both sexes. However, only about 100 children have been selected from the length and breadth of the state to be the fore-runners of this special home.Slightly more than half of the first intake are children from poor homes as against the orphans.

Inside view - One of two dorms

Another view

Surau

These children will register at Darul Akhyar in a few days’ time. That is before the end of the current school holidays. When the new terms starts on 12th June in Terengganu, these children will be attending form 1, form2 and form 4 at two secondary schools in the vicinity.

It will be interesting to follow the development of this new project.

To be continued …….

Berkhidmat kerana Tuhan untuk kemanusiaan

P/s:

The signage at the entrance reads " --- anak yatim". That is not intended to be.

End of the tunnel (Pt 12) – The path less travelled by

Today it all looks nice and rosy, a young bride with her own loving parents and now a love of her own. What, then, is so different about Zira?

Very few know the tumultuous family life she went through at the first crucial stage of her education, the year she sat for her PMR exam. No one would want to go through what she did. The subsequent painful years brought her closer to us.

After her SPM she failed to get an offer to do a medical-related course. “ I like to work in a hospital,” she lamented. She was obsessed with a job in hospital.

Knowing that she could not have everything, she accepted to do a three-year course in mechanical engineering, a far cry from her aspiration. Nonetheless, she accepted, worked on it, succeeded, and saw herself as a technical instructor at a factory within a cycling distance from her house. Most would be satisfied but not this girl. She worked for nearly two years, all the while harbouring her a dream. She kept her applications going.

Then one day she turned up at Nuri all excited. She had received an offer to do a course in pharmacy – orang mengantuk disorongkan bantal! ( a sleepy one being offered a pillow ).

“ Pakcik, what do you think? Do you think I can do it?” She poured out her questions at Pakcik. I knew this girl too well. Over the years she never failed to call on us, to keep us in the picture on how she was faring in her job and otherwise.

She simply wanted a ‘yes’ answer. I knew it and she got it. Almost six years after leaving SPM she was about to begin again. Had she not forgotten her biology and chemistry? I was somewhat concerned. Many would tell her to forget it. After she hah had a good job close to her family.

This gutsy girl worked for her dream, and today, she is attached to a hospital – never mind the distance being a good 500 km away from home. She has got her dream:

Zira took a path ‘less traveled by; and that has made all the diffeence’, a girl who can offer us a lesson in life.

and finally she is alone no more

And today, she has her own man as well, with blessings from both parents. She deserves what she owns today. Today, too, she can look back - and cry.

Al Quran - Surah Al-Njm - Ayat 35

"Dan bahawa manusia tidaklah akan memperoleh, melainkan sekadar usahanya." – Dr Hamka



Berkhidmat kerana Tuhan untuk kemanusiaan


P/s,

Syaharahan Dr Hamka dalam Tafsir Al-Azhar:

“ ….. Inilah yan pernah saya sya’irkan waktu permulaan Revolusi Indonesia:

Insan medapat kadar usaha,
Tidah lebih tidaklah kurang;
Ajuk hati, tanyai jiwa,
Jangan menyesal kepada orang.

Hasil dari pekerjaan kita , kita dapati sekadar usaha yang telah kita lakukan. Apabila kita malas, akan mendapat sedikit, atau tidak mendapat sama sekali, tidaklah boleh kita menyalahkan orang lain, mengapa sedikit kita dapat …..”

End of the tunnel (Pt 12 – sec 1/2) – Two children later

Two children ago, Yani was the subject of my End of the tunnel (Pt 5). Yes, that was what I said, two ‘children’ ago, covering a period of about two years. Yesterday Makcik and Pakcik met her again at a wedding of her old classmate, Zira. Yani ‘baru lepas pantang’ ( a 44- day period of detention indoor after delivery? ).

Almost seventeen years ago Yani and Zira, two timid kampong girls, joined the form 1 tuition class at Almanar. Yani has been working with a private college in Selangor and she delivered her second child one-and-a half months ago. And yesterday, after Yani’s second child, Zira was married. Today the two are no longer girls, nor timid any more.

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

Zira, all the years I had known her, used to live just a couple of kilometers away from us; but the family moved to a new home about a year ago. “Please come to visit our new place, especially during a fruit season,” said Zira to us a couple of times. Somehow we never made it there until her wedding day, yesterday; and that was not without some difficulty.The new house cannot be more than about 30 kilometers away from us; but such a distance from the coast line of Terengganu can take us to some uninhabited and very deserted areas indeed.

Guided by a sketch we reached the vicinity of Zira’s house in under thirty minutes. But we took another half-an-hour getting ourselves lost, driving up and down, stopping here and there seeking directions. As we were in the midst of it, my handphone rang. It was none other than the bride herself. In a tone tinged with disappointment she asked, “ Pakcik, aren’t you coming to my wedding?’ No, I would not miss her wedding for the entire world. And I realised then what our absence would mean to her, this very special girl.

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

Towards the end of our search, very certain of where we were heading for, we found ourselves driving along a road running through what looked like a virgin jungle. We were told that only a lone Felcra office was at the very dead end. Then somewhat relieved we began to notice some vehicles parked on both sides of the road. We knew for sure we had finally reached our destination. After parking our car at the end of the row we took a foot-path leading to a clearing in the middle of nowhere, a two-acre piece of land with coconut palms, assorted fruit trees and trees of all sorts – and perhaps animals of all sort, too, lurking around!

A road to nowhere

The path into nowhere

A dream house on two acres of land in the middle of nowhere

Somehow the wild surroundings looked beautiful to me. In this wild but peaceful environment I could imagine myself reminiscing, perhaps with greater details and clarity. Poets and writers would surely find their ‘enlightenment’ and inspiration in this sort of place.

So it was Zira’s wedding. How radiantly happy she was seeing us around after all.

X

Yani and first child (L) and the grooms (R) flanking pakcik's bride

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

So what is so special about Zira that deserves a place in this End-of-the-tunnel episode?

She took the less traveled road.

I had no hesitation to tell her newly wed husband, “You are a very, very lucky person. Look after her as well as you can.” And I meant every word of it. And my Zira smiled and looked straight at me with eyes brimming with tears.

….. to continue

Berkhidmat kerana Tuhan untuk kemanusiaan.

Pakcik reminisces (Pt 18) – To Sir, With Love

The day was Sunday 15th May, 2011, and the time was almost 11.00 pm. Earlier I had put down my autographed copy of AMOT and I was beginning to get absorbed in the second chapter of ‘A Doctor in the House’.

“Abang, come and watch this old film with me.”
I stopped reading to ask what film that was - on TV2.

“It’s To Sir, with love,” came her reply.

Not for one moment I hesitated to put down my book to watch this film for the umpteenth time, our favourite. We first saw the film way back in 1967, 45 years ago, in a town named JESSELTON, the capital of the state Negeri Di Bawah Bayu. We had not long been married with only our two-year old daughter with us. I was sent to serve in ‘Borneo’ for about four years, almost the whole of the early years of our married life. Away from the rest our respective families we had a chance to build our own life without interference, casting the marital love the way we would want it to take shape. It was then Sidney Poitier’s ‘To Sir, with Love’, with Lulu singing the hit song, was first screened.

It was not just the very touching story and the beautiful lyrics but the very title itself evoked so much memory of our family life, blessed with love and affection.

------------------
To Sir, with Love ( See p/s at the foot )

Those schoolgirl days, of telling tales and biting nails are gone,
But in my mind,
I know they will still live on and on,
But how do you thank someone, who has taken you from crayons to perfume?
It isn't easy, but I'll try,

If you wanted the sky I would write across the sky in letters,
That would soar a thousand feet high,
To Sir, with Love

The time has come,
For closing books and long last looks must end,
And as I leave,
I know that I am leaving my best friend,
A friend who taught me right from wrong,
And weak from strong,
That's a lot to learn,
What, what can I give you in return?

If you wanted the moon I would try to make a start,
But I, would rather you let me give my heart,
To Sir, with Love

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

The film ended this morning, 16th May, at 1.00 a.m. Before my tears ran dry I decided to write this, because I thought it was not inappropriate to have this posted on the Teachers’ Day. To Sir, With Love is forever to me a beautiful song and a beautiful film that tells about a teacher.

After all, in our own ways, we are all teachers in our lives.
-----------

P.S THE SONG

Here is a video of Pakcik's grandson's UPSR ceremony held a few years ago . It was his last day in the primary school. The video : Convocation 2007 ( To Sir, With Love in the background)

Kerana Tuhan untuk kemanusiaan

Pakcik reminisces (Pt 17 – p/s) – An acknowledgement

Apart from the Great Planner/Creator Himself, to Whom we all owe absolutely everything, I owe this gentleman more than he can ever imagine, and I am forever indebted to him.

Picture taken 60 years ago, of one young man who had begun to learn that there were different roads in life.

He is now an aged gentleman, well into his 80’s, with frequent lapses of memory, but, otherwise, physically well. Sixty years ago he had a vision that his younger brother ought to be equipped better than he had been, to face a future. In so doing he became instrumental in sending his brother on a ‘road less traveled.’ Subhanallah.

Picture taken nearly 60 years ago of one cheerful boy with dreams of a bed of roses.

Berkhidmat kerana Tuhan untuk kemanusiaan

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!

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

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.’

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

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.”
------------------------
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 ………”

Berkhidmat kerana Tuhan untuk kemanusiaan

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
--------------
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 )
---------------------

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.”

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

To be continued …


Berkhidmat kerana Tuhan untuk kemanusiaan

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?”

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

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.


Berkhidmat kerana Tuhan untuk kemanusiaan

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Berkhidmat kerana Tuhan untuk kemanusiaan

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.”

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

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?

Berkhidmat kerana Tuhan untuk kemanusiaan

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.