Bilang membilang.

I have a problem with numbers, with arithmetic, kira-kira, bilang-bilang. The problem will never make me great because to be ‘terbilang’ I must first be good at ‘membilang.’ Of I course I don't want to be great by 'tembelang.'

I could not count something say from one to a hundred without forgetting the actual count if distracted. Most of the time I have to start all over again. Okay, I admit sometimes I find it difficult to even remember how many rakaat has I prayed especially in the zohor and asar prayer. It is hard to have a full concentration or ‘khusyu’. Moreover with my frequent travel and the equally frequent jamak and qasar, I sometimes unconsciously qasar the solat at kariah too.

Of this forgetfulness and anomaly with number, I laugh at myself everytime I see the rerun of P. Ramlee’s Nujum Pak Belalang when the crook in the cave could not count pass three and resort to everything his partner said including eh..eh and kepala hotak kau.

I have problem remembering names too.

Anyway, I counted six entries in my blog since the day after the election. Things were so fascinating, I just have to record them as it happen; as I saw them happening. Tomorrow I might see them in a different light and write about them differently. The frequency surprises the lazy me.

Now I feel I must put another blog about the final chapter of the MB saga. ‘Selesai dohlah’ was not so the end after all.

On Friday, I was in KL. By chance, met some important Terengganu guys at Masjid Negara. They asked me, ‘Mengadap ke?’ I knew they were just joking because I believe it was they who were. When I told them I was taking the evening flight home, they asked, ‘ Sambut Tuanku esok?’ I laughed. They laughed too. The Terengganuans were finally laughing, happy at the turn of event.

The mood home was a surprise to me. Almost all cars in town tied the yellow ribbon. My father’s Jeep had not one but three (put there he said by the guys at Pasar Tani), so was all the office and my staff’s car. Someone even sponsored the yellow ribbon and because the demand was so good limited them to not more than ‘sekaki’ each only.

The rakyat, the ordinary non political people are responding with a sense of relief and gladness. The ordinary people I think don’t really care who is the MB as long as we have a MB. The delay of two weeks was embarrassing and the mood is jittery.

The yellow ribbon became a symbol of relief as much as the expression of love for the Sultan and the State.

So what has counting got to do with all this?

This morning 25000 turned up at the airport to greet the King. That’s what Malaysiakini said. 30000 said Siasah. 20000, said Harakahdaily, conservative this time. 25000 said Star, 10000 said Utusan. I know there was no counting booth to add the number safely but the stark difference was outrageously funny.

The people I asked about the turnout simply answered, ’ramai’ meaning many.

So maybe, when the people at the newsroom can no longer count, we could just tell them to resort to the logic of Pak Belalang.

‘Eh, eh’

‘Eh,eh untuk kau, eh,eh untuk aku.’ Lepas eh, eh apa?

‘Kepala hotak kau!’

‘Kepala hotak kau untuk kau, kepala hotak kau untuk aku.’

That is for the people who’s handicapped at counting, I mean, in the older days, they might just get telor temelang.

Selesai doh lah.

My breaking news came from Sedi. His sms read ‘Slamat Mat Said jadi MB.’

I was on the way home from Masjid Terapung. Not exactly from the mosque. I was on the way there when I made a u-turn seeing lots of cars there today. More than the normal malang jemaat (malam Jumaat – Friday night) crowd. I just remembered that they were having a munajat to pray for the Sultan.

I decided to just go home. Ustaz Aziz won’t be giving ceramah anyway.

In front of the shophouse, some strange looking people were there. Strange because I don’t normally see them before. I have been a Friday night regular at the mosque here and I didn’t see them around before. One was in songkok and kain pelikat, much like the guy Sepol said appeared in the riot video both at Batu Burok and Rusila. Ah, my imagination.

So today finally UMNO supreme council endorsed Dato Mohd Said as MB, ending I hope the long stand-off between palace and ruling party. I said I hope, because I m not sure if its truly the end. Politicians will stay and fight another day. What else can they do eh?

Tomorrow, the gere, the kopitiam and wakaf dam will be abuzz with a different gossip. Who’s back in the exco?, who’s not? What’s the new scandal?

As for the MB drama? It’s old news.

Cakak mende gok agi? Selesai doh….

Deafening silence

The hurt that you try to hide is killing me
I drink a thousand lies,

To freeze the past in time

[machine head – deafening silence 2001]

Deafening silence – A silence or lack of response that reveal something significant.

In Tranung the closest to it perhaps is ‘senyap kkatup’ – so quiet you hear pin drop, your own heart beating.

There is another kind of silence. When everybody and everything in all the commotion suddenly became momentarily quiet. So quiet it’s hair raising – ‘naik bulu roma’. Here, we say, ‘malaikat lalu’ - an angel just passes by.

I wonder why the national papers are silent on Terengganu.

Here, we are still left to wonder. Depending on and perhaps ‘drinking’ the gossips. Siasah Online said Pak Lah has backed down and agreed to Dato Mohd Said but NST Online says the 22 Aduns are still adamant. Nothing on Malaysiakini. Not so ‘kini’ afterall huh? Can Pak Lah agree to a non UMNO MB? I mean, I thought Dato Mohd Said was reportedly sacked from UMNO. Rumors too that two former exco and MB were stripped of datokship. Truth or just rumors?

Hey! Can someone tell us what is going on?

Or has Zaid Ibrahim successfully moved all the attention away leaving us rakyat in the dark once again.

Or is something else significant cooking?

Guane ghamok teranung kite?

As of now, Dato’ Mohd Said has assumed the office of Menteri Besar, becoming an MB for what may be (in his own word – as reported in media) a short spell. Dato’ Idris Jusoh on the other hand has called a press conference saying he will respect the decision but so.

Like many orang Tranung I am confused because NST Online and Malaysiakini gave a differing version. Can somebody put the whole press conference on Youtube please, so we can opined for ourselves.

Now is a hard time to be in Teranung. No, not because we are the second poorest people in the nation, or because of the oil stop flowing, but because calls from friends and families are streaming in non stop.

Guane keadaaang? (How’s thing?)

Mung ade baju melayu itang dok agi? Nok wak mende? Wak gi akat supoh! (Have you got the black baju melayu? What for? To attend swearing in ceremony?)

Mung dok gi berarok ke? (You are not demonstrating?)

Doh mung dok beloh Derih ke Mat Said? (So are you on Dato Idris or Dato Mat Said side?)

And this SMS among the many circulating around.

Kepada semua rakyat Terengganu, Tanda sokongan kita sebagai rakyat menyokong penuh Institusi Beraja & taat setia kita kepada Raja, pasangkan riben kuning pada kenderaan……., bertindak segera supaya Tuanku kita tidak diperlekehkan.

Bring to mind the song, ‘Tie a yellow ribbon, on the old oak tree….’

I find it even tougher to answer my curious children.

This episode will go as a watershed in Terengganu history. The older generation may recall the similar event in the Pas led government in 1959-1961. The then Menteri Besar, Mohd Daud Samad faced a vote of no confidence from the Dewan after two Pas YBs switched camp to UMNO. This time around, Dato Mohd Said may be sacked from UMNO and faced a vote of no confidence from UMNO itself. Opposition can’t do anything because their numbers are insignificant. Unless of course there’s a larger support to Dato’Mohd Said from within UMNO and all of them are sacked too. That is unlikely to happen given the current national climate.

But even now I’m not sure of ‘unlikely to happen’, Terengganu lost to Pas in 1999 was unlikely to happen, six states falling to oppositions in 2008 was ‘unlikely to happen’, but it does happen.

So I know I can’t read the political scenario and be a pundit, much less be a politician.

Maybe I should just go shop for a yellow ribbon.

The reason to blog

Welcome to the unreal cyber world.

It is heartening that not long after being regarded in the same basket as bored housewives, the youth ministry is toying with a proposal to start of all thing – a blog. Imagine some high level ministry guy donning pink polka dot apron to work….. (ah! you may not get my drift).

I don’t belong in the elite blogger group that triumphantly claimed to have moved the political consciousness of the nation nor do I belong to the nemesis Putra (or is it Puteri?) cyber trooper. I, if anything, is one among the millions who for some spare minutes of our day sat in front of the laptop typing something that is of no value to others but ourselves, not even hoping for our words to be found in the cyberspace. We derive joy in letting go of what we felt, strongly or otherwise. We care not for the feedback or the backlash of others. Blogs are our personal notes put on cyberspace, nothing more, nothing less. Once in a while we pat ourselves in the back, seeing a hit on our page, someone somewhere in Banjarmasin chanced on our words and wrote back.

Blogs are special. They are because they are not bound by rules or bias except by what is personal. We, bloggers are not afraid because we chose not to be bound by any rules or guidelines. We would be in journalism if we do.

We too are aware of the spectre of law (that put fear in our soul) often impressed by those in power. We knew well that the law says we have to be responsible for even an independent phantom opinion on our blog but that if it ever happen will give us (and we would cheekily accept) our time in court or our brush with fame.

So, the idea of ministerial blog is if my opinion is worth anything, an inane proposition. Imagine a JPA advert in NST; Situation Vacant – Blogger. (Ha..ha… I’m already laughing to myself). Place of work – Kemaman Kopitiam; work hour – as you fight insomnia at 237 am.

I would have a much greater respect for the dear minister if he begin by starting his own blog, using the free blogspot template and (in the word of Anna Scott in Notting Hill) fire away. I would even have a much higher respect to him if he is willing to put on an open forum, airing comments all and sundry.

A blogger read another blogger, many, many other bloggers for that matters. That’s why we have a link at the side of our page. (oops I don’t). We click from a blog to another because we look not for some lengthy Pullitzer’s material but some simple sweet, forthright, honest, bold and hilarious pieces. We could sense a fake and move to another click.

Please, dear minister, understand what blogging is all about, undertand the soul of a blog. Less it will end up like the plenty outdated .gov webs.

See you then.

Teka teki aishah

Mak, Aishah ada satu soalan.

Ok.

Nombor apa yang orang tak suka?

Emmm… nombor tujuh?

Salah.

Nombor 3?

Salah.

Nombor lapan?

Salah.

Nombor satu? dua? sembilan? Enam? Empat? Lima?

Salah. Salah. Salah……

Dah tu nombor apa?

Mak nak beli ke?

Ok Mak beli.

Nombor yang anda dail telah ditamatkan perkhidmatan.

The reason for it all

Raison d'être is a phrase borrowed from French where it means simply "reason for being"; in English use it also comes to suggest a degree of rationalization, as "The claimed reason for the existence of something or someone". A raison in nature may also symbolize wisdom or knowledge.

Che’ Jak was our lecturer in UTM. He was to many of us who graduated from there a philosophical sifu; in his own special, slightly crazy yet wise way. Of the many thing about him, I remember his story about a food shop he found somewhere along his travel. The shop was nice, the place clean, the service was fast, with a smile and the food was good. The owner himself moving from table to table, smiling, cracking little jokes, laughing a little to the customers enquiring if everything was okay. He seems so cheerful and happy.

Pleased with what he saw Che Jak told himself to return again someday.

When that day came several years later, he sat at the same table as the last time; observing. The shop was still the same but the same owner was now sitting at the till, busy collecting money. The shop was still full of customers but the owner was no longer smiling, cracking little jokes or laughing. He was no longer a cheerful self.

Why? Che Jak asked us.

There were many reasons and arguments put forth that day. They were all correct he said. But more than anything else, the reason for the happiness he said was because the shop owner was in the beginning doing a service to the people, his customers. The later unhappiness came because he was now no longer doing service but a business. He had lost the reason to be happy.

I find the similitude from the above, in the days after the election. Strange enough from both camps of the victors and losers, winners and whiners.

In the aftermath of the election, the bickering by the winners over the exco seats, and the coveted MB or chief minister position would embarrass a third grader fighting for a cekelat. The losers and whiners too, not to be left out, hit out at the people they once so called served, threatening them with the end of the world. Maybe that was what the press said but that was how it seems.

It brings to light the sheer arrogance and hypocrisy from the people called politicians (some if not all) to what they really were.

Strange because only a fortnight earlier they were screaming for a chance to serve or continue to serve the people.

So was all the hoo ha, all those promises meant to serve the rakyat jelata or themselves? What has positions got to do with serving? Must you be in position to do good? Is the collective power not good enough?

I do hope at the end of it all, sensibility sets in. The people need leaders, a good one at that. Not some selfish self serving dot dot dot. Not ever again I hope.

I pray those smiles they flashed during those grueling campaign will come back. And insyaAllah it will bring smiles to the wajah (faces) of the people too; happy, knowing that at the end of it all they chose to be wiser.

The day after

Its been a long while since the last blog. Why? Oh that’s for another time.

I passed by Kemasek the day after the famous 8th March 08 election. The day that all feng-shui believers will look back at in disgust and disbelief. The 8th was not ‘ong’ at all, at least not to Pak Lah and his Barisan’s men. Already, my phone is being filled with smses of jokes and gurindams, making fun of the unfortunate losers; but I m not putting them down here. You can find them easily on the web somewhere.

Despite the tsunami that swept away five states, six if Kuala Lumpur is included, Terengganu remained in Barisan’s hand. As was the Kemasek state seat . This is one place I often joked that Barisan can win even with a ‘batang nyior’ as a candidate. I was not being disrespectful. I knew how loyal the folks here were to UMNO and Barisan. I knew because my family was a firm believer in UMNO. My father was once one of the kampong stalwarts of the party, having been for years the ‘wakil calon’ for the YB and once he claimed almost to be the candidate for the party. I said was because I was not sure where the allegiance is anymore, certainly not since 98.

The traffic light junction in Kemasek (the only one) still look festive with the party flags from both sides flying in the strong wind. The blue on the upperhand, of course. It looks fun.

In my much younger day, election was fun. It was time to help cooking kanji paste to glue the posters on coconut trees, challenging one on the other side on who could go higher, hanging out at the party posts, truly bangsal wrapped in party flags, having free biscuits and tea and helping to print t-shirts and banners. The flags and banners would be much sought after, for kain sahang, and the billboard plywood for gok ayang, good till the next four years. It was way before election paraphernalia were imported from China.

Elections every time held had for us some measure of memory.

I remember the first Barisan’s rally in front of the balairaya. It was the first post Perikatan election and the kapal layar (or was it perahu layar) was replaced by the dacing. [I wonder why dacing is still used as a symbol when SI system was introduced not much later and all dacing were banned from marketplace – talk about being outdated/outmoded] Then it was against Kasim Ahmad’s parti p’ala lembu (how the people called Parti Sosialis Malaya). I remember the scathing attack on Kasim not for his socialist ideology but because of his poem ‘Tuhan Sudah Mati’

That year PAS was part of the pioneering Barisan.

In another time, even earlier, I remember how Che would quietly told us when we asked she voted kapal layar against Aki’s instruction to vote bulan bintang.

And later in another time when the young Hj Hadi helmed the rejunevated PAS I remember how Ayah Mat’s family would be avoiding us because they were pro PAS and we were all the instruments of thaghut. But that was a passing fad I believe and air dicincang takkan putus.

In 78, my father spent his time campaigning for Barisan and ended sacked from his job – such sacrifice.

In 99, I recalled how embarrassed I was because my son Amir, then about six but well into reading Harakah for his age, asked his Aki for a flag and when given an UMNO flag refused and said, ‘Amir nok d’era PAS.’ That year, under the current of reformasi, Barisan took a beating and Terengganu was lost.

My family has all left Kemasek. Most in KT with the rest scattered from KL to south of peninsula. We have become at most politically conscious yet distance from the thick of politicking. We had seen how ayah had spent the best years of his life, once putting life at the golok’s end (that’s again another story) for his party, retired and watched in disgust at the excesses of his party men. We became non political because he encouraged us to be professional and businessmen instead. That way we can help people he said, albeit in our own small way.

We passed by many more villages along the way and see flags, posters and bunting some with funny quips being slowly brought down and put to fire. The battle for seats how ridiculous it sometime seems was now over.

Elections, the many of them seems to pass just a while away.

Makan time and unity

I love it when the family get together for makan, or makang as we being Terengganuan now say it. Be it in Raya, kenduri, get together or simply having a meal at Mak’s house. With such a big close family every meal’s a feast.

The last one at Bora Asmara in Sungai Pencala was really great, with almost a full attendance of 15 out of 20 cucus. The noise and commotion was exceptional and the outlet proprietor must have had a foresight to give us the sound proof glass cabana or we could have shattered other diners longing for a romantic night.

Happy birthday Adlan and Atin.

Given free go at the menu, the cucus table went almost fully western, while elders tried out the balinese dancing fish and ‘bandrek’.

But as usual, some can’t take what others are having. I learnt this having in-law from Kedah and ‘biras’ from everywhere else. I still can’t accept mempelam with ‘menisang’ (otherwise known as gula melaka) and santan kelapa (like we Terengganuan take durian with) though I learnt to appreciate sepat pekasam and telor ikan masin and the Kedah side is being slowly but surely converted to the taste of budu. They even have it as kuah to our horror when we Terengganuan use it only as a dip. From my brother in-law Shah I learnt to accept gulai with its purest of the pure tempoyak though I cant take the sambal cili hijau. Yasmin is great with Malay kueh and cakes. She and Ajik is opening a new restaurant in Kota Damansara.and I think it would be great.

At home, when we were in numbers, pot luck was often the order of the day. The dishes can be overwhelmingly national. Those who are adventurous can try all and those who can’t take someone else food simply go for another hidang or another table.

That brings me to a related issue.

With the Merdeka day coming, everyone that writes, writes about merdeka, patriotism and unity. Someone saw Melayu eating with Melayu, Chinese eating with Chinese and Indian eating with Indian and cried ‘hey that’s a cause for social disunity.’

Makan either together or separately was to me a perfectly acceptable social behavior. I don’t want to eat with the same people or having the same food every time. I can’t be joining my Chinese friend when he wanted Bah Kut Teh and I would not invite my Indian friend for lunch when I was having beefsteak.

National unity is like family unity. It is about family members being allowed to do things they enjoy doing, whatever or with whoever. Likewise to makan anything or everything, whatever or with whoever Accepting, tolerating, forgiving and to some extent keeping your say to yourself.

Back to Bora Asmara, Es kelapa duda was a good pointer to A, I heard he introduced a new beau a week later.

Selamat menyambut Ulangtahun Kemerdekaan ke 50.

Bali measurement

I was in Bali last week. My ten year due holiday Yati said. But it was not really a holiday, it could not be with all the visits to candi, art market, resorts and construction site of all the thing. At least now I can say I have visited Bali, its temples, beaches, Paparazzi, Ku De Ta, art market and lunched at Bebek Bengil in Ubud, dined at Four Seasons Jimbaran, and had a Bar-B-Q at the beach where the bomb went off. The last one complete with a serenading ‘pemuzik jalanan’ quartet singing Tom Jones, Eagles and Ebeit G Ade. We even had the tremor from Java earthquake to complete the experience. Alhamdulillah nothing untoward happened.

Bali is amazing. It was an abode of living culture. Here celebration and festivals was happening every day and for every reason. We saw the daily temple prayer, marriage celebration and even mass cremation. All and everything was celebrated.

With the growing demand for luxury holiday homes, lands especially those fronting beaches are being put up for sale. At Nusa Dua, the beaches appeared to be owned by the foreign hotels, at least there was a kind of security check at the beachfront.

Everywhere I noticed billboards advertising land for sale.

The measurement unit for land in Bali is ‘are’ (pronounced are-re). I thought it was short for acre, I was wrong.

My guide explained that one ‘are’ is one-hundredth of a hectare. Now I needed a calculator. So I asked how many ‘are’ needed to build a decent house. ‘Like four’ he said, ‘sesudah siap di’kavling’. Oh my …..

An ‘are’ is thus a hectare (2.47 acre x 43560 ft2) or 107593 ft2 divides by 100 which equals to 1075 ft2. Almost equivalent to 100 m2.

What then is kavling?

‘Kavling’ is a term used for sub-divided lot. ‘Tanah kavling’ means a land readily sub-divided from a larger plot to smaller sizes for building houses or in local term ‘villas’.

If anything, here is where you can feel rich. With the current exchange of four hundred ringgit to a million rupiah, we were basically a living millionaire. But to own anything, even a piece of tanah kavling, being a millionaire was inadequate. You needed more. You must have money in the ‘miliyar’.

Global, Glokal redefined.

I remember well the launch of ‘Melayu Glokal’. I was at Primula then, working, and looks like all my friends were in nice baju melayu, celebrating in a kind of raya-like atmosphere. Poor me for not being in the circle. TPM was launching the concept and I thought, great, some concept it was. I remember reading Thomas Friedman’s The World Is Flat earlier and I thought the concept was already elaborated.

So much for originality.

I spoke to Nik and had the concept revisited from a satirical perspective.

We both were in a way working as consultants to both local and multinationals. Expatriate multinationals and local multinationals too. Maybe the multi in the local multinationals was not truly appropriate, more like Malaysian gone abroad. Multinationals are normally staffed and led by people of multi nationalities.

We both share the predicament of payment difficulty with some Malaysian companies – despite their size, listing status and global face. They tend to be more difficult the bigger they were. They may be appearing as multinational, international set-up but when in comes to paying consultants and contractors, there was the usual dilly-dally, questions and delays. Not to mention the squeezing of fee quantum. Unlike most truly multinationals where fees were agreed and honored to the last cent. Payments were fixed at say 45 days after invoice and the money directly credited into account. No real chasing necessary. The local companies tend to delight in withholding payments, keeping them in short term FD or investing in stocks – also short term. Never mind if the sub-contractors and suppliers were screaming for some cash-flow to keep them going.

In Nik’s experience, he says the local will never make it in the global challenge – as long as they kept to glocal mindset.

So what’s global and what’s glocal?

Global is when one is ready to honor the contract and pay as agreed. No ‘playing’ with other people’s money.

Glokal is when one is downright selfish, regards contract as mere academic exercise, play with other people’ money. Myopic perpetrator of short-term gain.

That was global and glokal redefined.

untitled

It sometimes takes the misery of others for one to count his blessing, to be thankful and grateful, eternally.

I realize from what I went through today, the parallel in the stories foretold often in the Quran. Muhammmad (peace be upon him) was in many occasions, when lost and dejected by the treatment he received from his own people, be comforted in the stories of the miseries and tragedy of the earlier prophets, of Jesus, Moses, Aaron, Jobs and others.

Only in the light of another’s misery one feel the lightness of one’s own pain.

Today, I sat in the company of two old ladies. Distraught and poor. I held back my tears as I watched them eating a few pieces of biscuits and a cup of plain tea. I could see that they are hungry.

‘ Maaf deh, mak cik dok malu nok mitok, sebab mak cik dok makang lagi.’

I almost choke as I answered them. ‘Malu mende gok mak cik, orang kaya pung dok berhenti m’itok (meminta).’ And I silently add, ‘and had our fair share of rejection too.’

They could not understand it, I am sure. I said it not about others but myself.

To be here, they must have traveled a long way, and another long way awaits them before they could see the door of their home somewhere. Home – if one could call it such.

And as I watched them, I wash away the anger and frustration bottled within me earlier. The anguish of losing something once in a while, as I could now see, is nothing in the scale of true, almost perpetual misery.

of kherling and kherlak

If there were to be a grouping, the cerelong would be grouped together with kherling and kherlak. Take note that in kherlak, the a is pronounced as a (as in bar) and not as o (as in lock). Some Terengganuan would prefer to spell as kherelak. The grouping of cerelong, kherling and kherlak was as they all refer to matter of using one’s eye.

To cerelong is to stare.

To kherling (jeling in standard Bahasa Melayu) is to ogle or as some say ‘tengok ikut ekor mata’ (to cast a sideway glance / to see from the corner of one’s eye).

To kherlak is to nod off, to momentarily fall asleep.

When Heliza the sweet Terengganu lass entered the final of Akademi Fantasia 5 recently, many commented on how beautiful her eyes are. ‘Kalu dia kherling ke kita, caaiiir bang.’ (If she should cast a sideway glance at us, our heart melts, brother).

But of the previous year winner from Terengganu ….

Faizal tu? Mende gok? Kalu dia nyanying, aku buleh kherlak.’ (That Faizal? What so? I could fall asleep when he sings.)

Of ‘kherlok’ and ‘kherlong'

‘Kherlok’ describes a state when a person became obviously fearful or intimidated by another person or situation. The best description is of a tortoise withdrawing its head into the shell when in danger. Chicken too, tend to withdraw their head when afraid. Perhaps how the proverb ‘chicken out’ comes about. Kids especially (and elderly too) has a similar reaction to lower their head when afraid, usually when being screwed, gets a lashing or a dressing down. All figuratively.

‘Kherlong’ means greedy, voracious, gluttonous etc. A kherlong person usually will want to take all to him or herself and has little regards about sharing with others. It is however selectively used on someone who is well off but equally greedy.

‘Kherlong sungguh Semek, habih nye wak alik kue, padahal orang laing dok dang makang pong’ (That Semek was so greedy. She took away all the cakes when others have not eaten)

‘Mek Yah lagilah, kherlongnya, je’put atas pinggang aku pung dia ambik.’ (Mek Yah was worse, she’s so gluttonous, she even took the je’put from my plate.)

A closer illustration on the right type of a kherlong personality would be on someone who falsify income statement to qualify for free text book, food assistance program, tekun loan, baja subsidi or specifically in the case of Terengganu, the ‘wang ehsan’. ‘Herang sungguh aku. Hok gi ambik wang ehsang tu, ada hok paka kereta pong. Kherlong nye dia.’ (I’m surprised. Among those that take the ‘wang ehsan’ are those with cars. How voracious is he?’

‘Kherlong’ is sometimes confused with ‘cerelong.’ To ‘cerelong’ is to stare, to eyeball or to look angrily at someone.

‘Maroh sungguh dia kat ku. Meroh mata-mata dia cerelong kat ku.’ (He was furious at me. His eye was blood shot when he stares at me.)

An inspirational illustration.

Mamat budak nakal. Dia cuma takut ayah dia je. Kalu ayah dia cerelong pun dia kherlok doh. Kalu ayah dia deheng, lagilah dia takut, kecik pala-pala dia lari masuk rumah.

Mamat is a naughty boy. He only fears his father. He quiets down just by his father’s stare. If the father snarl, he would be scared shit and quickly ran away into the house.

Note
Je’put is the way we pronounce jemput-jemput or cokodok or cucur kodok.
Deheng is to make a noise in the throat, growling more or less.
Kecik pala-pala directly translated as shrinking head to mean being terrified or scared shit.

A matter of smell.

Kuala Lumpur has shown its true self. The estuary of mud. Exactly. The June 10 flood had the city soiled. Again?

Lat’s cartoon had me laughing out loud. An amphibian plane flying over Selangor Padang, the pilot announcing ‘we’ll be landing shortly, in DBKL.’ The Datuk Bandar, DID Director, Works Minister, and the Smart Tunnel Engineers, could not even smile I’m sure. Who would? Not after a photo of dejected Pak Lah graced the front page, so soon after a happy one of him gracing the headline a few days earlier.

In one tabloid, a photo of a KL-ite walks pass the muddy road, holding his breath. It must be stinking. The smell of drying mud is normally just ‘hapak’ but with the content of the overflowing river, some carcass incuded, it could be ‘busuk kohong’.

A KL friend, when I called, said there is mud everywhere, it’s good for ‘samak’ he said. It is like somebody wants to samak the whole city. Cruel thought I said. But the flood must have raised their blood pressure level several notches. He must be forgiven for thinking that way.

We have a superfluous way of describing smell. ‘Busuk’ – stinks I think. ‘Busuk kohong’ – stinks to high heaven.

On the lesser degree, there is ‘ko-uh’ to describe the stale air of a damp space. Like the damp carpet in some cheap hotel room. It too of a sweaty body. Not very unlike ‘hapok’ of the Bob Marley hairdo, or the unwashed jeans or ‘spender’ some would say.

But we too love the stinky stuff, the acrid smell of tempoyak, the pungent smell of belacan, or the hapak of ikan pekasam or the durian that had earned the status of ‘taste like heaven but smells like hell’. And then there were budu and cencalok.

The flood would not have happen the engineers say, had the smart tunnel be completed. Or had it not rain that much, the weather man say. The Smart Tunnel would have ensured a flood free city, so they all say. But it floods all the same.

The main work man said, ‘kalau kita tidak mahu banjir berlaku, kita perlu belanja tujuh ke sembilan billion lagi.’

Seven to nine big B? Someone rushes to the drawing board.

Someone else had the proposal ready. Already.

It smells fishy.

Ko-uh.

Of nasi dagang bungkus and sambal belacan

One thing I noticed among my more successful friends is their keen observation, eye for learning and desire to teach. They may be successful in differing degrees or in different trade but the similarity is there. One that that I noticed most is their keen eye and sharp though witty comment while dining – be at the gerai or in ‘five-star’ restaurants.

I have not written for sometimes because I couldn’t find a subject interesting enough coupled with being busy ‘cari makan’ – moving most of the time. But I was forced now because of a paper I have to present to Part 3 candidates this coming weekend. As always, and as of my other bad habit, I can’t just do one thing at a time. I read like two or three book at one time, moving from one book to another in different places at home or the office. Likewise when writing I move from one subject to the other, in different window. Likewise designing. No wonder clients complain we are rather slow.

Back to the subject of learning.

I met Dato P and To’ Puan yesterday morning at one gerai nasi dagang in Kuala Ibai. The gerai he said he preferred over the more famous Mak Ngah in Cendering for a simple reason; it is much more efficient. ‘Look’ he said, ‘they have the take-away readily packed in ‘kelongsong daun pisang’ and they served you faster. Oh, I didn’t notice that. Well, the nasi dagang may differ but no two nasi dagang taste the same anyway.

Weeks earlier, we had lunch at the new restaurant in town, Restoran Penyu at Bulatan Batu Bersurat (used to be Bulatan Penyu). With us was Ayah Ku. The Chinese fare was good, especially the ‘ikan siakap masak nyonya.’ During the meal, Ayah Ku called one of the waitress, ‘Mek, sambal belacan tak dok ke?’ ‘Tak dok’ she said, we served Chinese food, sambal belacan is not in our menu.’ ‘Tapi kalau ada sambal sedap lagi,’ Ayah Ku added.

Yesterday, when we had lunch there, I recalled the last lunch and ask the waitress, ‘sambal belacan ada?’

She went in and bring out a plate.

This one certainly adapted fast to satisfy their customer. Keep it up and they would go a long way I am sure. I, at least had a good laugh. Similarly, one owner of a gerai tomyam in Cendering became a good friend after I scolded him for asking what we (like ten of us) have eaten after we had cleaned up a large meal. The next time I asked him to ‘kira’ he came with a written bill. Both will be on my list of restaurants / gerai worth going to again.

Another friend had a ‘tissue’ encounter at the old gerai famed for ‘ikan patin masak tempoyak’ in Temerluh. Washing his hand he looked for serviette. None to be seen around. So he went to the counter to enquire. ‘Tissue ada?’ he asked. ‘Ada. Encik ni makan kat mana?’ the girl asked. ‘Sinilah’ he said. So the girl opened her drawer, pull out a piece of serviette. Not exactly one but one already cut to two. ‘Kenapa tak letak tissue dekat sinki?’ he asked. She said, ‘kalau letak situ, semua orang pakai, rugilah saya.’ Clearly furious at the answer, he said, ‘berapa harga tissue sebungkus? Tak pe. Se bungkus ni saya bayar. Awak letak dekat sinki tu. Saya sedekah. Untuk semua orang pakai.’ Turning around he remarked ‘ patutlah awak meniaga tak kaya-kaya, takut sangat nak bersedekah.’

This few anecdotes serves well to show me that successful people are not ordinary people. They live their lives unlike normal people who let things happen and the world passes by.

Those on the way to make it are special people too. They show their willingness to change and adapt and quickly at it.

Me? I don’t know. Really.

it’s R A Y A again

It’s raya again. It’s that happy feeling. It’s immersing in the ‘rioh-rendah’, bising bangor’, ‘kacau-gege’. The sweet sound of children screaming, laughing (or is somebody crying?). It’s time when the eight house street is jam-packed with cars; of my family and that of my neighbors. And evenings of smoke laden air courtesy of free mercun and bunga-api.

Two grands, 14 children, 9 menantus and 20 cucus.

Everyone is here. Almost. Only Dibah and Julian and their kids Nabil and Aishah; and Bada and Azmi with their kids Arif, Haikal, and Mariam both coming home on the first day of Raya. And Jo of course, in India, after two weeks of buka puasa at home but forced to return because school break’s over.

Today, the last of the ’buka’, ayah will set the buffet early. Saw that he started the table arrangement at 9 this morning. Everyone must have a seat, the ‘kuca ghia’ included. It will be a big buffet as usual. As it was for years. As it was like forever.

Selamat Hari Raya.

of marketing art and puasa buffet

I have one bad habit. I don’t like doing business with difficult people. There is one famous chicken rice stall in Batu Burok I don’t go anymore because the owner scolded me, saying ‘rugilah saya’ when I ordered a drink from the next stall and not wanting one from her juice machine.

In business, money change hand when a good or service is delivered. A done deal, face to face some people said. In Islam, when the trade and ‘akad’ performed. In Terengganu and elsewhere in Malaysia too these days, I see the seller saying ‘saya jual’ and the buyer saying ‘saya beli’ on the exchange. In Terengganu, even the Chinese shopkeepers practice this akad thing perhaps out of social norm.

I was in Shanghai recently. Because it was an urgent trip I had made all the arrangement through the internet, even paying everything, hotel and air ticket in advance by credit card. On the confirmation slip, all by e-mail, was stated, ‘no refund if changes to the itinerary made in less than 48 hours’ clearly. I was to stay for five days. Maybe I should note that the agent introduced by a friend was a Singapore based agent, specializing in business trips to China, handling business tour from Europe and Middle East mostly. So mostly they deal with Mat Sallehs and Pak Arab. A nice touch was that a Shanghai based agent handled everything, all the e-mails with even her hand phone number just in case you need it. Also stated, ‘if you are busy but still want to see Shanghai, we can arrange a day tour at USD 46 per pax.’ I had no idea how the Baroni Wanyuan Hotel would look like but it turn out to be a nice, sleek new hotel and the junior suite cheaper than KL Hilton’s deluxe room.

There, I had an urgent call for a meeting in Kuala Terengganu and I had to cut short my trip by two days. It was less than 48 hours away. Because I was busy and not having my laptop I had to use the business center at the hotel second floor. In the evening I e-mailed my itinerary change and went back to my room at the ninth floor. Already there was a message on the phone. It was well pass working hour but this one Miss Zoe, had responded and in less than fifteen minutes. What efficiency.

So it was when I get back to Kuala Terengganu, opened my e-mails and found one from Miss Zoe. Enclosed was a refund slips for the unused stay. I was pleasantly surprised. I had changed the itinerary in less than the stipulated time and not expected a refund. After all it was a contract and payment transacted. The explanation was sweet. ‘We would like you to use our service again, Sir. Would you come to Shanghai for the Formula One? We can make the all the arrangement.’

That in a nutshell is a class service. Compare it to this one I had just had .

I had booked for a 7 plus one child pax for buka puasa buffet at Hotel UiTM. When we got there the dining hall was hardly filled, some tables empty and some tables reserved but without the patron. On my group only six adults and a child turned up. I guess it was normal in Klang Valley, getting stuck in the traffic jam and missing the fasting break altogether. It was an okay dinner. Nothing particularly interesting but for the child singer and the often off-key elder singer singing some classic keroncongs on the stage. The interesting part came at paying time.

‘Encik, you must pay for all the eight pax’ said the girl at the counter. ‘But only seven came’ I protested. ‘You should have informed us when you arrived’ she insisted. ‘You didn’t mention that when I made the reservation’ I continued, trying my luck. ‘Sorrylah encik, saya cuma ikut arahan je’ (I am only following orders). She said looking down trying to avoid any eye contact. ‘ ‘Okay I’ll pay,’ I said, ‘but I want you to know that it’s not good for your business.’ So I paid and walked out.

I told myself, I am not coming back.

She, the girl at the counter in this case I think was just a student, being trained on the ropes of serving, etiquette, customer handling etc. I hope that they were not there training only to ‘serve’, clearing dirty dishes or collecting tabs, but the impression I get in that short minute was that. The students training for the front line should be trained on customer handling with other objectives, like making a customer happy even if it means getting out of the norms sometimes, marketing or encouraging customer to return, by saying things like, ‘I’m sorry about this but I hope I’ll see you dining here again’ or an eye contact or at least a smile. Perhaps they had been in this situation often they were retreating as a reaction. Macang k’ura (like a tortoise – retreating its head into its shell), a Terengganuan would say. Situation out of incomplete procedural control and total blur on how to make future sales. What is losing a RM39 for a pax if it could be translated in future business? What about training them to smile and say sorry? It doesn’t cost a cent and it certainly wasn’t meant as an apology. I am certain all marketing books talk about this point now. But then again they don’t read. Do they? The lecturers, not the students I mean.

Perhaps coincidently, there was a story about a three year old girl that successfully bid for a ‘Barbie’ car on the the E-bay for something like USD64000. Imagine the parents panicking. On E-bay rules are rules. After all rules are the only thing that can ensure fairness in a borderless world. But what was touching was the response of the seller when he knew of the mistakes. He said okay and placed the car back on the bid. He may have lost the sale he could have very well enforced and legally too, but he simply take it with a shrug and maybe a smile. In exchange for the understanding was a worldwide free publicity. It’s worth millions.

As a person, I will be talking about these experiences to others. It would be free marketing for the former and a bad publicity to the later. I am making the comparison because I see in the business world, even the one conducted in internet, devoid of real contact (no eye contact, no smiles exchanged), money making rules are being set aside by another better rules, market, market and market. They are refunding money that was contractually their right in exchange for future business. They are also (if you look it from another angle) turning marketing into an art. Some money making rules are placed to be conveniently set aside to make one looks good, for customers to feel appreciated and their delight transformed into future business. Saying things like ‘we normally charge you for this but since this is your first time with us / you are our important customer / the boss not here and I’m in charge /you’re very nice, I’ll waive the charge’ will go a long way.

In Hotel UiTM, they are yet to teach this, but I hope they will do so soon.

PS.
Sincere apology to Hotel UiTM for mentioning name. I wouldn’t do so if it wasn’t my alma mater and I’d like it’s graduate to be better. Oh, and a good discount sometimes.

wisdom of a cab driver

Allah bertanya, ‘ Berapa lamakah lamanya kamu tinggal di bumi?’ Mereka menjawab: ‘Kami tinggal (di bumi) sehari atau setengah hari, maka tanyakanlah kepada orang-orang yang menghitung.’ Allah berfirman: ‘Kamu tidak tinggal (di bumi) melainkan sebentar sahaja, kalau kamu mengetahui.’
[Al-Mu’minun 18:112-114]


Some gem of wisdom can be found in some unlikely place. This one from a cab driver on a ride from KL Sentral to Wisma Sejarah yesterday September 26.

I thought I was unfortunate, I had wanted a quiet ride after a long slow bus ride from LCT, but was greeted by an angry man instead. Angry as in talking out loud, venting his frustration at almost everything under the sun, like why the election ballot must be marked with an x (which to him means wrong or no) and not with right or yes, his frustration at Hishamuddin (maybe he thought I was a teacher or some education officer because I asked to be sent to the National Library), his funny belief that oscar and horse-car (kereta kuda) was the same English word, at JKR originally meaning Jagaan Kuda Raja before the British changing it to Jabatan Kerja Raya, at money (at a one ringgit note he was waving) for having value just because it has a dead king’s picture on it, etc.

But this conversation was a gem.

‘Kita ni masa lahir, orang azan kat telinga kita. Betul?’ (When we were born, an azan is proclaimed at our ear. Right?)

‘Uuhhh.’

‘Bila kita mati orang sembahyangkan. Betul?’ (When we die, people pray on us. Right?)

‘Uh…. Uuhhh.’

‘Nampak tak pendeknya umur kita?. Nampak? Dari masa azan sampai sembahyang je umur kita ni.’ (See how short this life is? See? Our life is no longer than the time between azan and prayer.)

Then the above verse of the Quran I came across this morning, kind of put it in a just perspective.