Of derak and doktong

I am aware of doktong, it’s Terengganu word for bertandang or short visit to neighbor’s house though not necessarily in a positive tinge. We don’t use the word melawat or n’awak (not n’awok – careful with the pronunciation) because it is normally used to mean paying last respect.

Che’ Mang tak dok dumoh, ye gi n’awak orang mati, arwoh Aji Usok laki Aji Yang. (Encik Man is not at home, he went to pay his last respect to the late Haji Yusof, husband of Hajjah Mariam)

The word doktong is normally used in anger or in spite.

Tu lah mung, ari-ari gi doktong rumoh Jaroh. Nasi laki mung pong mung dok nanok. (That’s so you, everyday dropping in at Zaharah’s house. You don’t even cook for your husband.)

D’erak is also about visiting. Funny I only learn of the word this Raya, in Salwa’s skype message. It (according to Shida) means visiting – a day long, ‘sapa garek’ (right up to Maghrib) hopping from one house to another.

Kita orang KL ni, kalu balik Raya sariang gi derak jelah. Dokleh dok dumoh, sedara mara rama nok kena jupe. (We KLite’s. when back for Raya, will be visiting a whole day long. Can’t stay home with all the relatives to visit)

And so, with all the people berderak at my house, we just can’t go doktong etek.

But it’s been a wonderful Raya.

ps
Happy 47th Birthday to Along. Thanks for always being the 'big' sister.

This raya that was

This Raya will go a long way in our memory, to me and Yati.

It began on a slow note on Day One with only us, the singles, Ajik and Along’s family.

Then Day Two hit with a bang. Full quorum but for Amanda.

The living room of Aki’s house was packed to the brim. The duit raya giving session turned so noisy it’s like a pasar borong. For the day and night dining, lucky we had the ‘khemah’ installed all along since Ramadan.

For me, this Raya began two days before. We took the long trip down to Kemasek. Something I had not done for years lately. Fifteen years ago, when I came back to Terengganu, I made the annual trip to personally hand over the zakat and raya goodies to the deserving. Then they were like 30 of them. Now after like seven-eight years hiatus, only with Ayah standing in as my wakil, they were only a dozen or so deserving people left. Many has passed away. Their once homes dilapidated and empty.

I took this trip to show my children once again what was once their father’s kampong, Mak Wan’s house – where I was born, the beach and Kuala Kemasek.

Funny enough they, Alia especially, remember so well the gerai goreng pisang that Ayah Khir ‘langgor’ some years ago. And Alan parrotting her as though he was there when he was only born years later.

Day Three. The family bowling tournament. Soon to be made an annual raya event. The most unlikely strike coming from Along beating even Julian ... Ha..ha.

And 'longkang' champ - Noyoo. Seems like everyone ended with something to brag about that day.

The finale must be Khir’s engagement to Sarah on Day Four. A first of its kind of reception because I was then forced to be the ‘jurucakap’ – that kind of put me in the 'orang tua-tua' bracket now. Lucky the other side made it really easy.

At least I didn’t have to recite any pantun or bermadah. Like some that was proposed …

Naik jambatan Pulau Pinang
Kami datang nak meminang.

In case it may be needed someday, now with twenty-two and counting anak-anak sedara growing so fast, think I better start practicing now.

To Yati, for all the staying up late getting the food and the house ready for the next day for several days, your tireless single effort to keep everyone fed (not to mention the endless request for mushroom soup, nuggets, sausages and maggie goreng) despite the usual raya fare on the table all day long, all the while keeping yourself looking radiant and beautiful, and your sheer exhaustion at the end of each day, you have been remarkably wonderful.

To all that made this raya so memorable, thank you.

Lost shoe and broken windshield

I chided Alia when she asked, ‘kasut ayah kena curi kat masjid ke?’

No. ‘Kena curi’ was not a right word I would use especially if it happened at mosques. I would rather consider it mis-taken – by someone whose need was greater than mine. Or I could have misplaced them among the thousand pairs of shoes.

One Friday at UIA mosque, I recall Yat laughing at me seeing me walking bare footed fully dressed with a tie-on. Without shoes, I had to cancel my appointment at UIA that day.

In another incident, one Friday at Masjid Batu Caves my borrowed car was broken, my briefcase gone. That wasn’t so painful. What painful was the reporting and the long ‘interrogation’ by the IO. Another hour I would have shouted, ‘hell, I broke my own car and stole my own thing.’ Worst, they told me, ‘biasalah tu Encik, boleh kata setiap Jumaat kereta kena pecah kat situ, hari ni saja ada tiga.’ Darn! So often? What have they been doing? Compiling statistic?

Another time at Surau Seksyen 9 Shah Alam after the Fajr prayer, I discovered my Carnival passenger window neatly smashed. Gone were my wallet and all. Careless of me thinking that nothing could happen during the short prayer time. After the Batu Caves, I could then laugh when the IO asked me over the phone, ‘Encik ada gantung baju dalam kereta tak?

A short distance from Simpang Empat Kemasek, is a new Balai Polis. Once, it was only a wooden pondok polis with two wooden barrack at the back. I remember only one mata-mata, Pok Long Polis, as we dearly call him going round the village on his bicycle. Crime then was unheard of but for the petty case of curi telor ayam come funfair season.

Well, there was one murder in Kemasek in that many years. The golok fight under the tembesu tree at the bridge near Bukit Rimau Menangis. Last time I checked, the tembesu tree still standing. That will be good for another ghost story.

Compare that to the insecurity we now feel as we walk on the street or while sleeping at night. I wish now I can respect the crime prevention today as I had respected Pok Long Polis back then.

Alas, time has changed.

But then we had neither cars worth breaking into, nor shoes worth stealing too.

So what do you remember of Kemasek most?

Kemasek.

The one little village on the way from Kuala Terengganu to Kuala Lumpur.

Once our home. Now not even a stop.
Not if not for the time traffic light turned red at Simpang Empat.

A quick glance.

There was once the Balairaya where we chased spiders underneath while Mak was busy showing off her cooking skill during WI meet. Or when Ayah had his gathering of Persatuan Belia Angkatan Tenaga Muda or Red Cross assembly. No more the Pusat Pemeriksaan Jabatan Hutan that Ayah Su and Che Su used to stay a while. Nor is the field where we had the election campaigns or the wayang penerangan.

On the Pasaraya site, once stood some of the finer houses of Kemasek, among them the house of Awang Hitam the Juragan and Che Ngah Dayang - oh her nasi dagang kelosong daun pisang. The old mahkamah however is still there, on the hill behind the post office, shrouded by the much bigger trees that I once remember, haunted some says, always a mystery. That’s one place I don’t recall going. Not even in the craziest of time.

N’akut gok sebenornya.

At the very simpang, I recall once we the school children were made to line the street in the scorching sun, to wave flags and shout ‘Daulat Tuanku’ when the then outgoing King was returning. I remember too very clearly that the black Rolls Royce simply whizzed by and we were like looking left, right and then that’s it.

And then there are many more.

But what is it that you remember?

CEO blog

Hey, I should have my own CEO blog. I wonder sometimes if I should.

Afterall I m a Chief Executive Officer too even if I never had such title on my call card. I am a chief that execute my own work and an officer though I don’t work for anyone now. Clients notwithstanding of course. Having to work and look after 50 plus staff should’ve made me one I think. It wasn’t a small establishment too at some point come to think of it.

Now that Tony of Air Asia has a blog, other CEO s would soon be itching to blog too; just like the politicians post 08 election. And let us see who has the patience to keep writing.

Of course, at any scale, my business is a speck compared to Air Asia. I don’t owe banks as much as they do too… ha..ha… and if wealth is measured in the positive and negatives in bank balance my loan nowhere as big I think I’m richer.

But Pak Mat and Pak Awang too are wealthier than me. Anytime. They are debt free when I’ve a few million in the negatives. So much ha?

Well, maybe I should.

Who cares?

After all it’s all about writing. Not really about anyone reading it.

Season of sumpah

So everyone who’s anyone is taking to the mosque for a sumpah session. And they all swear for the calamity to fall on themselves or others. Nauzubillah.

Soon, I’m afraid we will all be going through the curse of seven generations a la Mahsuri, and this beautiful country will for a long while be –‘padang jarang padang tekukur.’

Decades ago, I remember Terengganuan were fond of swearing ‘tobat kafir serani’ – to the effect of saying I swear lest I am a disbeliever or a Christian.

That swearing is something I had not heard for so many years now. Not even among the children. Maybe better understanding of Islam has significantly reduced if not almost purged the swearing and cursing. That the swearing is making a comeback is an indication otherwise. That some ‘learned’ people are resorting to it is downright alarming.

I don’t believe that swearing is even encouraged in Islam whatever some ulama may say. I am not an ulama, far from it; but I know enough to form an opinion that it is not.

Remember how Allah s w t had chided Rasulullah saw when he swore not to have honey only to please his wives?

O Prophet! Why holdest thou to be forbidden that which God has made lawful to thee? Thou seekest to please thou consorts. But God is Oft-forgiving, Most Merciful
(at-Tahrim 66:01)

Remember how Allah s w t had called for the ummah to break away from the bond of oath?

God has already ordained for you, (O Men), the dissolution of your oath: and God is your protector and He is full of knowledge and wisdom.
(at-Tahrim 66:02)


Remember how Allah swt had warned against those who go round swearing and taking oath in His Names?

Heed not the type of despicable man – ready with oath,
A slanderer, going about with calumnies,
(Habitually) hindering (all) good, transgressing beyond bounds, deep in sin
(al-Qalam 68: 10-12)


Okay, so some ulama said that sumpah lian (oath of calamity) is in the Quran. But my reading of it is about the accusation of a husband on his allegedly unfaithful wife.

And for those who launch a charge against their spouses, and have no evidence but their own, their solitary evidence (can be received) if they bear witness four times (with an oath) by God that they are telling the truth,

And the fifth (oath) that they solemnly invoke the curse of God on themselves if they tell a lie.
(an-Nur 24:6,7)

If it sound so easy, similarly easy was the way out for the wife as the accused party.

But it would avert the punishment from the wife, if she bears witness four times (with an oath) by God, that (her husband) is telling a lie.

And the fifth (oath) that they solemnly invoke the curse of God on themselves if (her accuser) is telling the truth.
(an-Nur 24:8,9)

I am not an ulama nor do I know about taklik and hukum but in my limited knowledge, I see it more as Allah’s way of putting stop to any fitnah – accusation and slander. For in Islam fitnah is worse than murder.

Fitnah and oppression are worse than slaughter.
(al-Baqarah 2:217)

Enough is enough. Why can’t we too do the same? Put a stop to it.

When we were young, and when we swear to escape punishment by saying ‘tobat lillah aku do wak, supoh kapir serani’- the elder and wise among us will say, ‘Awang, dok baik tobat gitu.’

To them that now do, I say the same too.

‘Awang, dok baik tobat gitu.’


Footnote
Translation of Quran from Abdullah Yusuf Ali

Kaca, kuca dan k’uca.

To kaca is to disturb.

To kuca is to stir.

K’uca is a state after thing had been kaca-d or kuca-d; messed or muddled up.
In worst scenario it’s said to be k’uca hanya.

Jangang kaca orang tengoh kuca bubo tu. Kang jadi k’uca hanya pulok. (Don’t disturb people stirring the broth. It will mess thing up)

To describe k’uca hanya is to look at our room when we were young. Mak used to say ‘gi gok kemah bilek mung tu, hanya banya – macang kapa pecoh (go tidy up your room, it’s so messed – like a wrecked ship). Or another time, ‘macang tepak ayang t’elor’ (like the where hen lay eggs)

C’amek

Another word of the same genre I missed in my last blog is c’amek.

It’s something every kids (and politicians too…ha..haha..) loves to do.

To c’amek is to put your hand into something – like how kids love to put their tiny fingers into the bowl of cake mixture.

More aptly, c’amek is to meddle in someone else’s affair; all usually to a disastrous effect. The English proverb of ‘too many cook spoils a broth’ came to mind.

To c’amek is also likened to ‘tikus baiki labu’ (a rat mending a pumpkin). A perfectly working something spoiled by a touch of someone unskilled. ‘Lapu tu nyale molek doh. Mung gi c’amek wak mende gok? Doh padang pulok doh.’ (The lamp was working well. Why do you meddle with it? Now its swicthed off)

On a more serious note, Islam has a very strong view about the meddling of the ignorant (jahil) in everything. The list may well include those unskilled and incompetent and those giving views on subjects way out of their league. There was a quote that I remember well, ‘give not your affair to the ignorant lest a disaster is forthcoming.

So if there’s a meddling from someone you know well as incompetent in things you know best, just tell them ‘shut-up!’

P’etak sikek je

Everyone seems to talk about the Saiful’s story these days. I’ll just p’etak on it too.

To p’etak is to touch. A quick one.

When a person is so busy he may only p’etak this and p’etak that.

In such a commotion things may just go awry. ‘P’etak tu dok jadi p’etak ning pong dok jadi gok.’ (That doesn’t work, that too doesn’t)

The opposite that is to touch with due care is to m’etek.

Nok wak kueh tat macang Mok Wang wat tu payoh sikek, kerja m’etek. (To make tart like Mak Wan is a bit difficult. It’s arduous work.)

People say a lie may lead to another lie. A lie is a mother to all evil. Siakap senohong gelama ikan duri, mula-mula cakap bohong, lama-lama mencuri.

When a person gets in a difficult situation to wiggle out from a lie, he may resort to create another lie. Unless he is a compulsive liar or someone suffering from severe delusion, he may fumble when pressured. He may fumble even without pressure - like mentioning a future date for a past incident. The same description of ‘p’etak tu dok jadi p’etak ning pong dok jadi gok’ may apply.

A good example is the Saiful’s sorry story. That he had been s…mized several times without any blot indicates that he was never even ‘p’etak’. So he conveniently changed the occurrences from several times to just one, and the date from the past to the (okay it’s a slip of tongue) future.

Him or the story?

I just do not know which is sorrier. Itu je!

Good times and beautiful thing.

This was a hectic weekend. (Any un-hectic weekend? ha..ha..)

Thursday was in KT, trying to finalize the ‘temporary buildings’ detail and cut off ‘half a million, can you?’ from the already cheap design. Friday was in Rasa-rasa because I forgot my office key and A’s akad nikah later at night.

Rushed home to catch the end of the Beijing Olympic opening. At least managed to see the run by wire and the lighting of the torch.

Spectacular.

The whole of China must have cracked their head at producing another Olympic torch lighting original, something the whole world can associate with. The other one memorable was the single archery shot in Barcelona Olympic.

They came up with the concept of unrolling scroll and a chapter from Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon. Perfect. The paper scroll was undoubtedly Chinese.

As the athlete was raised by wire and air-run along the Bird’s Nest perimeter, I can almost see Chow Yuen Fat and Michele Yeoh running atop the bamboo forest. Once, when the spotlight moves ahead of the scroll, I thought I saw a dragon chasing a globe. Wish they had a female athlete with him. It would have been an ideal finishing touch.

Saturday was a long drive to KT. Attended the kenduri at Rusila then to office working on the talks to UIA Architecture students on Gerbang Persilatan Terengganu.

The lecture was well received (I think). I only wish I had more time to dig up the store for old drawings and pictures. But 1997 was a decade away, and we had moved office twice. Many things were lost. Made a mental note to keep all the sketches safe next time.

The lecture, more than anything else was a right jolt to the memory.

Postcard-perfect memory

I had seen it.

A black and white postcard of a single coconut tree on the rock at Pantai Kemasek under the glass cabinet of one photo shop that I could not remember where. I knew I had seen it as I was sure seen it in a book of collection of Malaya postcards, or something like that, I think.

I remember that postcard as much as I remember that coconut tree. Coconut tree don’t grow on rocks but this one did. That makes it special. That someone in the time when cameras were rare and owned by the few that recognized its significance makes it even more special.

I wonder sometimes, why I tend to remember all these pictures in my mind’s eye. I can’t remember names and faces to the chagrin of my contacts and business partners, even friends – bad for business they said, but I can recall vivid details of things from my life years ago.

Like the way lights penetrated through the ‘kerawang’ of one rumah Tok Ngah next to rumah Awang Hitam in Kemasek. Yes Tok Ngah the ‘tilam kekabu maker’ if you can still remember. Remember her going about the kampong delivering a roll of tilam on her head?

Like the streaks of white and red lines on the rocks of Bukit Batu Taping?

Like the breaking of waves on the rocky cliff seen from the top of that same hill that I often climbed alone some school holidays years ago?

Remember Tokeh Abung?

The crazy Taiwan University graduate that cycles round the kampong talking, giving speech out loud only to himself?

And should I add that he wore a pair of the famous architect Phillip Johnson’s like glass to accentuate his intellectual disposition?

Remember Mok Su Che Sek?

Oh her? Her pet rooster?

I promised myself I’d write about her someday but just couldn’t get around to it. I know I must for she was my nanny and years later when I return to Terengganu she found me.

We have all left Kemasek years ago. It now is only a town we pass by on the way. But memories of the growing up years linger. The courthouse on the hill, still standing the last time I passes by.

The balairaya that is no longer there.

The house of Tok Penghulu Wan Hamid, the house of Mak Wan Gayah where I was born and the house of Pak Man Porong.

Majlis Tempatan Kemaman Utara?

The long timber bridge linking Kampung Feri to Kuala Kemasek?

There can never be enough space in one’s writing to capture all that recollection.. But nevertheless I must. I owe it to them children.

The coconut tree had fallen off ages ago. Nothing was left to proof its existence save for that one postcard. For that I must seek.

For, that postcard was the epitome of a picture perfect memory.

They keep the Mercs after all.

Maybe it was another dosage of P. Ramlee’s tale of the sons of Ismet Ulam Raja of the faraway land of Isketambola last night.

I am in the mood to ‘ngarok’ today.

Thursday was a hard day. I had a screw-up since morning in Cemerong I was in the mood to ‘carok’ but did not.

Late yesterday’s news, MB said he got the okay from the Leader to use them for Excos. This morning news, the Leader said it was only for the foreign dignitaries.

So soon at the new Sultan Mahmud International Airport you will see this notice. ‘Welcome to the Nation Of Terengganu. All foreign dignitaries from Malaysia may proceed to the lobby where we have 14 new E-200 lining up for your use.’

‘Karok….karok......’

A VIP visit.

Crankshaft was a blog I visited often. So to be commented by ‘her’ was an honor.

Much like when someone asks ‘would you like a ride in my new Merc?’

Unbelievable.

The Merc? I was totally wrong after all.

As I am writing this, Bernama newsflash reads ‘pembelian kereta Mercedes bukan guna wang royalti kata MB Terengganu

A short while ago [19th June 08] I wrote about some more than 10 new S-Class moving north towards Kuala Terengganu. I also wrote about the possibility of them being purchased for the State Excos [having been ordered by the previous administration]. I was wrong. Those were Mercedes E-200 Kompressor and the decision to purchase them, based on Star report, ‘was made several months ago’ so said the SS. I was double wrong.

So I want to be the first to congratulate the State Government of Terengganu. Now the excos would no longer be second best or feel inferior to most of the local contractors and consultants who are driving much more expensive S-Class, Brabus and Beemers especially X-5. Now at least they can join the site meetings where the site office cabins (for the mega projects I mean) normally appeared like a second-hand luxury car show rooms. Now too they can be waited by their drivers at the new Sultan Mahmud Airport without being asked to drive away to make way for the more important Mercs in the queue.

After all, the state only spend 3.4 million and its not duit royalti or wang ehsang. The money must have come from other sources like from cukai tanah, cukai balak or cukai pasir or perhaps federal grants.

So you jealous people out there….. shut up! Be a politician and when you come to power, do the same.

What about me?

Too late to be a politician but I’ll go out and get one myself.

A little on minyak and tahi minyak.

Some of us may still recall rumah Che/Aki in Kampung Baru Tok Kaya Kanan, Kemasek. [I just love to say that ‘Tok Kaya Kanan/Kiri thing] On the back lambor, was a dapur kayu with two tungku. Che’s very own kitchen. Here was her domain that she treasures despite having in the later years a dapur minyak and even a rice cooker. Underneath the sand-filled stove was her store of kayu api. Firewood she collected from the broken branches of trees, tempurung (coconut shells) and sabut (coconut husk) around the house, I recall too of her in her late years, hunched but still going round collecting the kindling. Her canisters for her own baulu and kuih bangkit were from the discarded tin milo and dumex that the cucus consumed aplenty. She was living the life of a true environmentalist long before we were talking recycling.

She too makes her own tikar mengkuang from the mengkuang plants at her backyard. She would brave the swamp to cut the leaves, soak them, strip them, dye them and daily bit by bit on the front lambor, made them into mats. I remember when I first rented my house in Setapak, before I can afford a mattress, the tikar was a treasured possession.

What I remember most in the kitchen however was the periok of her coconut oil.

She would without fail when coconuts were plenty, cook her own coconut oil. The oil then was used for cooking, hair oil and minyak urut too.

The cooking of the coconut oil was always awaited. Any thing ‘makan-able’ was awaited. After the oil was filtered, the waste was the tahi minyak. It can be made into a sambal tahi minyak mixed with fried shredded coconut (that is the origin of the phrase tahi minyak gaul nyior) eaten with nasi kapit or plain rice or eaten just like that.

First on tahi minyak.

Tahi means shit. Minyak means oil. Tahi minyak is however not oily shit but leftover from the making of coconut oil.

But tahi minyak can mean something else. To say to a person that he is a tahi minyak, like in 'mung ni tahi minyak sungguh' is like saying you are shit but you can’t be discarded because you could still be useful.

Now on minyak.

Who is not angry at the recent oil price increase?

I know two. Check Utusan Malaysia the day after the bomb dropped. Utusan ran a full color page of crowds protesting; vehicles queuing at petrol stations, people with empty jerry cans looking for some last minute cheap oil. No one was smiling. But at the top right hand corner of the same page was the picture of two men looking cheerful captured to prosperity. I wish they were not ‘that’ happy but they were happily smiling so they must be.

They were obviously the tahi minyak. If you know what I mean.

For whom those luxury rides?

Two days ago (19.6.08), we took a drive down south to Jay Bee. On the road from KT to Kemaman something peculiar happened. I noticed it. Saiful noticed it too. Along the way they were like more than 10 S-Class Mercedes going north I think to Kuala Terengganu.

Wow, I think aloud.

Is business so good now those numbers of Merc were ordered.

By whom? I wonder.

I haven’t heard of any mega job going to Terengganu contractors lately.

Or the dealers just pre-empt the ordering having heard Pak Lah giving back the oil royalty?

Or was it true the previous ‘kerajaan’ had ordered them for the excos?

In this ‘change your lifestyle’ and ‘ten percent cut’ climate?

Let’s just wait and see……

Of bahang bahan-bahan

Material or goods in Bahasa Malaysia is bahan. Terengganuan pronounced it bahang with a g at the end.

Bahang in standard Bahasa Malaysia means heat, like the heat from a furnace.

Bahang bahan(g)-bahan(g) thus can means either to steal the goods or the heat of the materials.

To ‘merasa bahang’ (feel the heat) can mean to be affected; by events or something. It’s much like the proverb ‘siapa makan cili dia terasa pedas’ (he who eats chili shall feel the heat). But bahang in Terengganuspeak is strike. To ‘bahang’ someone is to hit him either by hand or by words like in scolding. Sometimes Terengganuan says ‘tibang’ to suggest the same.

‘Abis lebang-lebang belakang dia kene bahang denge tok laki die.’(Her back is blue-black being hit by her husband)

‘Pucak lesi Mamat parok kena bahang dengan boh die.’ (Mamat was pale after a scolding by his boss)

Bahang too can mean to steal or in a more politically correct term misappropriate.

‘Doh wang ehsang tu dok wi ke kerajaang negeri, nye pakak bahang sek-sek die je lah.’ (With the royalty money not channeled to the State Government, it was being misappropriated by the cronies)

‘Bahang rambang’ meaning to hit at random is a term Terengganuan used to describe blind accusation, similar to ‘serkap jarang.’ or Javanese ‘hentam keromo.’

‘Doh bakpe mung kate gitu ke Derih? Dok baik mung bahang rambang je kate kokrang.’ (Why do you say that about Derih? It’s not right to accuse people blindly.)

‘Aku pong dok tahu sape buak. Doh dia tanye angat, aku bahang rambang je lah.’ (I’ve no idea really. Since he asked, I just answered blindly)

Just by chance

"Oi...Get your filthy hands off my desert!"
"What 'e say?"
Brezhnev took Afghanistan.
Begin took Beirut.
Galtieri took the Union Jack.
And Maggie, over lunch one day,
Took a cruiser with all hands.

Apparently, to make him give it back.

(Get Your Filthy Hands Off My Desert. Pink Floyd / Roger Waters 1985)


In the movie, Forest Gump, the character played by Tom Hank by sheer stroke of luck appeared at the defining moments of history, influencing some important event in popular culture; among them, the origin of Elvis’s gyrating pelvis, the Nixon’s ping-pong diplomacy and Lennon’s Imagine.

Just by chance or pure coincidence though unlike Gump, it seems that all my overseas visit coincided with some important event or other.

My first Sydney visit in 98 was on the day Anwar Ibrahim was arrested, Australian diplomatic opposition almost led to a diplomatic scuffle with Malaysia. That event led to the infamous black-eye incidence. My Jakarta 2005 visit was during the Ambalat Incidence, with street protest against Malaysia on the street of Jakarta. Sometimes earlier, some few months after the visit to the Hadyai’s Kre Sek Mosque, came the bloodbath that marked the beginning of the end of peace in Southern Thai.

My visit to (actually my return from) Singapore 23.5.08 was on the day International Court Of Justice delivered the verdict. It was the day Pulau Batu Puteh legally became Singapore’s Pedra Branca. I was at the Changi departure lounge when all homecoming Malaysian eyes were fixed on the TV screen. I could not bother as I was exhausted. After all that piece of rock is to me nothing more than a piece of rock.

At KLIA’s arrival hall, someone concerned Malaysian broke the news. It was confirmed by some breaking news on the electronic media later.

The International Court of Justice has decided in favour of Singapore in a 28-year sovereignty dispute with Malaysia over Pulau Batu Puteh - a tiny but strategic uninhabited island the size of half a football field.

[Malaysiakini 23.5.08]

I don’t know Batu Puteh more than a picture of rock with some Singaporean’s helipad and communication tower on it. That’s all. People, the patriotic kind would nevertheless lecture me on matter of national pride and sovereignty. To them I would say ‘why wait a hundred over years to react? It would be a non-issue had we cleverly persisted and retain the southern island some decades ago. A read into Lee Kuan Yew’s memoir of the last decisive moments in the 1963 separation brokering doesn’t help quell the sense of betrayal at all. Never mind the apologetic later written ‘Duri Dalam Daging’.

For now, let’s just let the issue dies down. A lost is a lost and can never be a win, much less a win-win. (Sorry Dato’ Seri Rais, I don’t agree with you) A sense of winning however will satiate some quarters and no one I hope would be raising any keris, tombak or lembing.

Roger Waters wrote the Final Cut after the Falkland War, as a personal protest against Margaret Thatcher’s senseless war venture thousands of miles away in South America. But Falkland was (and is still claimed as) British land and the Union Jack must be defended by all means necessary.

Pedra Branca was lost in the court room. We certainly need not now raise arm and inadvertently go south the same Thatcher’s way.

I pray.

Doh kite seme ni nok makang ape?

Don’t read if you think this is seditious.

The crime of seditious libel was defined and established in England during the 1606 case "De Libellis Famosis". The case defined seditious libel as criticism of public persons, the government, or King. (Wikipedia)

But to criticise and hurt the feeling of the non public person, the ordinary man on the street, the rakyat jelata is seditious too, I think. In democracy, is not the rakyat the true government? Just that they don’t have some big time lawyer arguing for them one can go about hurting their feeling. They too can change a government.

Sedition, is a big, big word these few days. Whatever it means, I don’t want to be charged as seditious and hauled to court. So this blog is dedicated only to my children, and that of my siblings, and probably in the future, the children of their children. The rest, read on your own free will.

The price of rice, our only staple food is up. Among the cause, as the article implied; too much is being consumed. Terenganuan and Kelantanese eat up to four times of rice a day. ‘Please don’t eat rice that many times’ our good minister said, more or less.

Sometimes last year, when petrol price went up, another minister said, ‘change your life style.’ Of course he can keep the Cheyenne in the garage and drive a 325i instead. But what do the rakyat change their kapchai to?

I was at the nasi dagang stall that day. An old man reading a newspaper at a table in front of me remarked angrily, ‘Menteri bodo! Doh nok suruh kite seme ni makang apa?

So what are we supposed to eat?

I want my children to know their own history well. Our family was not always well off. There were times, when we were younger, when aki was jobless or in-between jobs, we suffered. Yes, we still manage to eat but it was all basic. We were lucky because Wan was always creative with food and it all tastes so good. Or was it because we were always so hungry the food was good always. She too works wonder with ubi kayu or ubi stele. When ubi is available, it was time for ubi rebus, goreng ubi or kueh keria. Otherwise, all we had was rice. So it was rice in the morning, afternoon and dinner and all that was in between. It was the cheapest and the only food affordable.

For breakfast it was the left-over from previous dinner (nasi dingin) turned to nasi goreng or nasi lemak, for lunch nasi, for tea maybe some dried rice turned to lok-lik and for dinner nasi again. And if ever we turn hungry in between we turn to the periok for what else but nasi. Chicken and beef rarely available if any will be considered a feast.

The minister must have been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, ‘beranak dalam beras’ some Terengganuan says; to have a choice of bread and pudding for breakfast and tea. That s why he can by choice not to have nasi that many times a day. Unfortunately we didn’t as certainly many more, even now. Many that I know around me are still as poor, depending only on a single kind of food to live another day.

I am telling this to my children.

Even if you feel that you are rich, look around you, please look around you, at your friends in school, the friends in your neighborhood.

Look!

You don’t even have to look that hard, to see so many that are poor.

They eat rice four times a day because they don’t and could not have McD and Secret Recipe in between. They eat rice four times a day not because they are being excessive but because that is all they can have, that is all their mother left for them in the periok when the mother is out washing cloth at somebody’s house.

I know you could not feel their suffering because you just couldn’t. But even if you couldn’t, do not ever make fun of them. Never say anything that can be mistaken as making fun of them. Never ever tell them to eat less of the least that they are able to. Please do not do that. Not now. Not ever. Not even after you have become a minister. To say that hurt the poor. To say that is in a way seditious too.

Gong

A gong is drum like brass musical instrument used in traditional music. A single strike will emit a ‘gonnngggg’ sound with a rippling echo. Berdengung I think is apt to describe the effect.

Beating of a gong is now extensively used to signify opening of events like the opening of an upacara or like starting of trading day on the Bursa (KLSE). In the old movies, a gong is sounded just prior to a proclamation; normally reading of a king’s order. Old Malay hikayat, (this one, Hikayat Awang Sulong Merah Muda) beautifully described the effect of gong once sounded on rakyat jelata .

Yang capek datang bertongkat
Yang buta meraba-raba
Yang tuli leka bertanya
Yang kecil terambin lintang
Yang jarak tolak tolakan
Yang pendek tinjau meninjau
Yang kurap mengekor angin

(I have no idea what the last phrase mean)

In Kemasek, there is a village called Gong Chengal and in Kuala Terengganu a Gong Tok Nasik. There are also Gong Pak Chang near Kedai Buluh and Gong Pak Jin in Gong Badak. If I may deduce, the former was founded by the father of Hassan and the later by the father of a genie. Whether there is anymore jin living there I would not know. That gong in a village name refer to a higher piece of land or an elevated plateau as against ‘mengabang’ meaning a water logged area. Gong Badak unknown to many is located next to Mengabang Badak.

Gong to Terengganuan refers to a person, proud, big headed, an egoist – one in English idiom described as proud as a peacock. Imagine the peacock dance, just like the cock, cocky.

Awang tu, padang muka dia kalah pilihang raye, Baru jadi wakil rakyat sepenggal pong, gong do’oh lalu doh.

A gong person, like the land (as in Gong Badak) is elevated above and sounds equally berdengung if he ever utter anything. Maybe it was his nose that is elevated because a gong can be as what the Malay proverb describe as ‘hidung tinggi’ (high nose or tall nose?)

When writing a gong, be careful to space the a from the gong else it means something significantly significant. Agong means great. A gong on that respect is not an agong no matter how he pretend to be.

My father loves to dismiss a person as ubi atas gong especially to the kind that is stubborn or those that refuse to listen to other’s opinion, one that thinks that only he is right. I have no idea if is a Terengganu proverb because I could not find any official writing on it.