Khir and Sarah marriage was solemnized at about 10pm 23rd January 2009. The ijab and qabul by the bride's father recorded on Facebook for posterity. Never mind Khir's fumbling the first try. 'Ni ketar ni,' the bride's father said.
At reception at the mertua’s house the next day, Ayah was as usual reluctant to go up the dais to do the tepung tawar but he did eventually with some persuasion. Then somebody (I think it was Mad Leh) shouted from the crowd. ‘Ni menantu paling lama tunggu ni.’ Most who know, laughed. The family indeed had waited so long for this.
At 36, Khir managed to be the longest holding bachelor in the family. Over the years, no amount of persuasion could make him see any girls that family tried to introduce. To the point that the anak-anak sedara were so used with Khir’s standard answer to ‘Ayah Khir bila nak kawin? – esok’
And then suddenly the girl who walked in to his office walked right into his heart, as the father of the bride jokingly remarked, ‘masuk perangkap.’
To Khir and Sarah Anis Sulaiman, congratulation. May your marriage be blessed with happiness and many beautiful child.
And by the way, the anak-anak sedara is still discussing whether to call her Cik or Auntie.
TNB has just announced a loss of 944 million ringgit.
I can only take a deep, very very deep breath and exhale slowly.
Years ago, Misbun Sidek was the hope of Malaysia at the All England. I can’t remember the year exactly but it must be in 82 because I was staying in Taman Melawati then. Those years, long before the advent of Astro, live telecast was only on radio. So we stayed up late for the hope that Misbun would do well. It was only the early round but all our hope was dashed because of his quick exit in straight set, garnering only a few points. So angry were we that we screamed in frustration.
‘Kalau nak bagi kalah 15-0 bagi aku wakil Malaysia lagi baik.’ (If its only to lose 15-0, better let me play for Malaysia), someone said. ‘Mung pandai ke main?’ (Do you know how to play?) I asked. ‘Kalau setakat kalah 15-0 aku main pun kalah 15-0’ (if it’s just to lose 15-0, I can get the same score) he retorted.
Today I said, let me be the CEO of TNB. I will surely make TNB lose as much. TNB can pay me just half or a quarter of what paid to Khaleb so I could make the loss slightly less.
Are they not fortunate? Those CEOs, I mean. Sitting in such posh offices, the cars, the first class travel, good hotels, huge salaries and they can be still drawing fat check even after the company losing hundreds of millions.
On the other hand, businessmen like us struggled to earn just enough every month to pay our staff salaries and when the collection fall short be the last and least to be paid.
If the whole point of business is to lose so much money, might as well let anyone be the CEO.Pok Mat, Pok Awang, Ah Leong or Mutu can be just as effective with so much smaller paycheck.
If I can take the place of Misbun to lose 15-0, surely I can take Khaleb’s place to lose 944 million.
Now is already the aftermath of a war. The police troops numbering six thousands (official figure) or twelve thousands (some claim) has gone home. The street is now starngely quiet. Even the party flags only recently waving proudly in the late monsoon gust are packed and stored for the next battle someplace else.
Last night when we drove around town (oops… Bandaraya), Yati remarked, ‘This is Kuala Terengganu that we knew.’
Perhaps as well Farah can now take off her ‘Ni Tranung ke Gaza’ notation on her Facebook wall.
I had refrained from making any comments on the election before the election. Too much has already been said and written.
But it was now over. PAS and Pakatan Rakyatwinning it was only reinforcing the knowledge, hope and fear of many depending on which side of the divide they were.
I grew up in a fiercely parochial UMNO family. I watched and took pride in all UMNO winning the elections as early as my memory of attending the rapat umum during that historical first Barisan election. I remember Barisan (then both UMNO and PAS) bashing Kasim Ahmad on his poem of ‘tuhan sudah mati.’ I recall the impact of hate Utusan Malaysia created on the person of Tengku Razaleigh when he donned the tengkolok with what looked like a Christian’s cross in a Sabah campaign; with it igniting the fear of the Muslims, thus killing the hope of Semangat 46. I remember too the Lim Kok Wing led advertisement in the 1999 election, the advertorial in televisions, the full page picture of gnarling Lim Kit Siang, angry Anwar and ferocious Haji Hadi. Those were the days when newspaper played a major role in igniting the feeling of the masses.
But 1999 was also the turning point. With the extreme overkill, rakyat began to see and loath the popular media. I felt the same too. Oppositions saw the power of new media, the web and captured its potential to seriously challenge the establishment.
Sadly, Barisan’s campaign strategist in this is age of Youtube are still living in the cocoon of yesteryears. Internet has enabled anyone to check on any news to learn about what is exactly happening and what was truly said. Full text of statements, remarks and speeches can be downloaded to neutralize the venom of selective reporting. Body language can now be viewed and believed.
In those years, I recall my father (then a key UMNO campaigner) dashing everywhere to solve voters problem. Those who complain of not having electricity will have the tiang letrik put up almost immediately by then LLN. All for that important one vote. The actual power supply can wait till the next complain in the next election, if ever.
We now live in a much richer Malaysia. The election gifts are very much in practice albeit in grander scale. To UMNO, what is sadly happening is the negative impact it created. While a hundred contractor walked away happily with projects, the other seventy thousand nine hundred voters squirmed, ‘doh kita ni buleh mende?’ (so what do we get?)
In this KT by-election, the result was not really that bad. Thirty over thousands still for whatever reasons crossed the dacing.The cup can always be seen as half empty or half full.
The lost of Barisan was very much anticipated. Barisan though early on declaring themselves the underdog (so much for self esteem) did however put up a grand fight. Cost some say goes to a hundred million. It was of course a rumor but even a quarter of it is a serious amount of money.
A friend who came all the way from Kedah to help in the campaign (apart from ‘tunjuk muka’ and carrying a project envelop) drop by at 3 pm, on the election day, exhausted. ‘Dah kalah dah’ he said. ‘For that amount of money’ he said ‘Barisan should have worked out a magic.’ ‘What magic?’ I asked. ‘duit banyak ni tak payah teruk-teruk kempen. Hang bagi duit je kat pengundi suruh pangkah Barisan. Kalau hang bagi seribu sorang pun ada baki lagi dua puluh juta.’
Hahaha… we all laughed. A painful laugh.
That kind of sums up the mood in the run up to the big day. When asked ‘Barisan boleh menang ke dok?’ many simply answered, ‘kalu dok menang gok, saje sangatlah.
As for the righteous, they will be in the Gardens and Springs. Taking joy in the things their Lord gives them, because before then, they lived a good live. They were in the habit of sleeping but little at night. And in the hour of early dawn, they (were found) praying for Forgiveness; And in their wealth and possessions (was remembered) the right of the needy, him who asked, and him who (for some reason) was prevented (from asking). Al-Dariyat 51:15-19 Election is perhaps the best time to see the kind of thing one would do to be in the spotlight of the media. Kissing babies, transporting the sick in one’s gleaming car to hospital, visiting the poor and desolate, walking through mud and when one is backed by the power and wealth; distributing goodies in all forms – new road premix, new projects, new school halls and new everything that is thinkable. The other side, not to be outdone does the same only in a lesser way.
This is also the time when the poor and the needy is brought out to surface – kind of multiple episodes of ‘Bersama mu’ in fast forward. The poor now became the object of celebration.
I have hated the exploitation. I refused to attend ceremonies involving the poor walking up stage to receive assistance to the thunderous clap of the audience. I often do even if it is for good cause like charity and zakat. I hate watching some poor soul crying on the numerous television programs. What are we clapping about? I often asked. That they are poor?
I hate it even more, when it is done for votes.
Like always, once past the finish line they will be back to where they always are, forgotten. Perhaps until the next election.
I know I will never know, whether those care and concern shown were genuine but I want to believe that they are. All those act of love were sincere and straight from their heart.
But what am I in all that?
I hope that those images I saw of them around me will wake me up. Touch the softer side of my heart.
I hope I can be there with once the media spotlight dies.
Herman Miller’s Aeron Chair, designed by Don Chadwick my all time favourite (but can’t afford just yet) is RM 8K plus. Last year before the oil goes up price. The quote I get for Charles Eames good quality China mari reproduction is RM 3900. The same sold at X, is going at RM 12K. Italy mari? Hardly. Itay mari also nowadays China buat, Italy pergi, Malaysia mari.
A chair in parliament?
Is it comfortable to begin with? It doesn’t look too comfortable really, the backseat look too upright. But how much it cost really?
RM 400 million.
Ha..ha…
That’s only part payment mind you. The fact that Terengganu got back the royalty just before the KT by-election make it the outright price to pay, it seems.
Right? Wrong? Maybe?
Oh, whatever.
After such a high price, is the chair truly worth it?
Again, is it comfortable to begin with?
You and me, the common among the ordinary may just never find out. But then again who knows. With some among our chosen MPs dozing off soundly, it just can’t be but comfy.
In 1995, the first of Muharram, came on the first day of June. That was the day I officially dated the start of my company. On that date it moved to its own rented office from a little corner in a rented house in Kubang Ikan.
Muharram 0f 1430 Hijriah came close to January 1, 2009. We are now in our own building. I look back to those many struggling years and I could not help smiling.
Even after these many years I am still struggling.
That’s a fact of life.
The weather in Kuala Terengganu is gloomy. It‘s been dark and raining since late October and may well continue till Chap Goh Mei.
And everything else is not much cheerful either.
The economy is bad and getting even worse. Good thing they cut the interest rate by 0.25 percent though it makes no impact on the bottom line. Knowing banks, the sunny day friends, they will jack up the rate to cover for the loss later. Petrol too was down but nothing follows. And Air Asia doing without the fuel surcharge helps lessen the flight bills for frequent traveler like myself.
I’m getting more job applications. Friends say some friends are now struggling to pay salaries. Well I have been like that like forever. But unlike some of them, I don’t have the Mercs or Beemers to pay yet.
The P-36 Kuala Terengganu by-election is coming.
And so are DPM, ministers, wanita, pemuda and puteris.Along Jalan Sultan Mahmud, the puteris has just turned a listless home-stay into a pink carnival. The giant dacings and the red and white keris flags now dominate. The moon on the green flags will be coming soon. When? I’m not sure.
There is now many-many more policemen on the street. We have three makeshift pondok polis at both ends of our street including one right in-front of the office. And a MBKT signboard next to my gate proclaiming ‘KAWASAN LARANGAN’ – talk about feeling safe.
Yes I do want to feel safe. The bridge near my office has been the scene of many ‘war’ between PAS and UMNO – fighting to put up their flags every elections. Stupid fools. Can’t they just be game about everything? Take a side of the bridge each, put all the flags they can hoist. Have fun, have a few shouting match across the divider then go away for a cup of coffee.
Talk about feeling safe.
I wish there were that many policemen (some say six thousands) as for this election as when thief broke into my car in Gombak and Shah Alam. I wish that many make shift pondok could be put up on street where murderous snatch thieves and break-ins were rampant. Some wish!
Suddenly, KT is no longer the quiet town it has always been. The home-stay signboard seems to sprout like some ‘cendawan selepas hujan.’ And friends are calling for a place to stay. ‘Helping in the campaign’ they say. ‘Tunjuk muka’, says other. ‘Sambil-sambil lobi projek’, they add. The need for temporary lodges has pushed up the rental rates. Some were offered as much as 5 to 6K per house for a month. With some catch of course, half is for the broker….. some wanita. Wonder if the Kak Fida know about these ground level fleecing.
I’ll be 46 in a matter of days. And I m quite tired. So I made a resolution to take things a little easier and make it easier to my architects too. I’ll take in more people to look after the newer works so we can all breathe a little and continue going home after five thirty. That means more money to pay salaries every months but that’s the price I would gladly pay. I still have faith that for everyone of them their rezeki has already been destined their way.
And I’ll hold on to that Merc order for a while too ………
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 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.
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.
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.
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.
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
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)
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!’
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.
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.
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.
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.’
persuasion. Then somebody (I think it was Mad Leh) shouted from the crowd. ‘Ni menantu paling lama tunggu ni.’ Most who know, laughed. The family indeed had waited so long for this.
