Changing Lanes & Crossing Bridges

Reconciliation

2012-01-04T19:00:00.017+03:00

The past few weeks I've been a little bit depressed. Mainly feeling down as a friend of mine sought my help and listening ear about her marital problems. I couldn't help but feel down as well as I was being updated about their life. It was very emotionally draining. I am sympathetic towards what happened to her, but found myself hitting rock bottom as well in terms of psychological well-being. I don't know if that makes sense, but I went to back to a black hole in my past, where I could legitimately feel bad and sad. There is only one thing from my past that could make me feel like that. I missed my mom. The last time I saw her (after yeaarrsss) was more than 4 years ago, when I made a trip to my sister's home. My sister, after much persuasion, contacted Mak and we met, and had quite a memorable time together. It was followed by a quick day trip to Perak, where Mak then lives. I wrote about it here.

I was living in Saudi Arabia then, we communicated a bit on the phone (maybe 2 phone calls in all) and then lost in touch. I moved to Dubai and she changed numbers. My half-sister and me exchanged a short email and then it stopped. Mailbox full and stuff like that. Since I now visit Singapore only once a year, I made sure every 2nd year, I keep in touch with the Malaysian folks. So last year was it. I called my elder sis and found out that she was in labor. Without hesitation, I booked the earliest flight to K.L to visit her and the new addition. I spent 3 days/2night there despite having no place to stay and in the middle of Ramadhan. Kids just started fasting that year too, but they came along and complained little. We put up at a hotel in P.J. I could not get in touch with any friends except blogger friends turn kampung friends @Elisa Taufik and Sazlin@Blaberella. I could not get in touch with Mak, my sis did not have her contact number as well. She promised that she will get it for me though, and she did. She emailed me a number that belonged to my half sibling, but it was, again, a number not in use. It didn't help that around the same time, my daughter Salma was trying to draw up a family tree and she didn't know what names to fill in for my mom and dad. I don't blame her, It's complicated.

Less than a week ago my elder sis emailed me with the latest update on Mak. Through grapevine, she found out that Mak is now remarried with a pak imam from her kampung. I found that not surprising as Mak is still quite young. (I estimated that she is around 49 years old today). I was anxious to get in touch with Mak, and started to look up my half-siblings on - where else - Facebook. I don't even know their real fullnames to be honest, and I can hardly remember what my late stepdad's name was either. But the email addy that I had from 4 years ago was a good lead. It lead me straight to my half sister's FB a/c, although I wasn't really sure it was indeed her. I was right to suspect as she had put up her friend's pic on the profile in jest. Immediately my "friend request" was accepted and I found her on my wall with "kak Ruby!!!", I was elated. Through her, I found the other, and another "Kak Ruby...!" on my wall. Then the brother and then another sister. 4 out of 5. Alhamdulillah. All found within 2 days. I immediately asked for my mom's number and braced myself to call her. The eldest one amongst them was not there, but I understand that he is not IT savvy.

I called her the very next day. It was nerve-wrecking. I always fear of being rejected. What if she don't welcome my phone call, or not at all interested in my updates or my trials to connect? She answered and sounded happy to hear from me. She asked about my kids. I asked her if she had gotten married, she retorted, "siapalah nak ngan maak..". It was a short phone call when she ended the conversation with "Mak kat luar ni, nanti petang call lagi...". I put down the phone, and admit that I was a little sad. I tried calling her the next day... and the next... "nombor yang anda dial di luar kawasan perkhidmatan......" Did she cut off her line? Maybe she is avoiding me?". Needless to say, I was feeling depressed, and then the song from the currently much talked about movie "Ombak Rindu" seems to fit my situation....

"Tuhan, tolong lembutkan hati dia
Untuk terimaku seadanya
Kerna ku tak mampu
Kerna ku tak sanggup
Hidup tanpa dia di sisiku"

Corny kan? What to do. It does feel like that.

I was on facebook almost all the time after that, looking at my siblings pictures, seeing how much they've grown since I last saw them, more than 10 years ago. They all look different now. I wanted to know about them, what they are doing now, if they are attached/married. I wrote a message to them, being emo as usual...it was quite long.

"Salam adik2 ku yang ku sayangi dan ingati selalu,
no words can express how happy i am to be reconnected with you all. seeing all your pictures, your life ; gives me a chance to catch up with the times we had lost. i think im lucky to have had the chance to get to know all of you back when I was in Malaysia. You were all so nice and adorable back then and I can't help but fall in love with each one of you. Timing and situation was bad then for me, hence we parted ways, but i always remember the kindness of your dad, Allahyarhamuh. So happy to catch up with mak few years back, and met Nadia, Iman and Joey Alhamdulillah. I intend to go back this march for a short trip with the kiddos, so InshaAllah I'll plan something for us. Hopefully we can meet up and catch up. I tried calling mak on the number nadia gave, got her once, dapat cakap sekejap saje as she was outside she said, but now bila cuba lagi tak dapat plak. i'll try again anyhow. if you all have whatssapp, add me on ok. my number here in Dubai is +XXX XXXXXXX. I most welcome you to Dubai should you plan to travel to the Middle East anytime.

Salam from me,
your sister"

Again, their reply was short and curt. They talked about them coming to Dubai and very light stuff. Maybe I'm hoping someone would tell me what happened, explain the stuffs I didn't understand about my life, fill in the blanks, solve the mysteries. None of that happened. We added each other on Whatsapp and chatted on our devices today. It was nice, very casual but intimate. I also told them that I could not get hold of Mak, and they explained that Mak was holidaying somewhere in Cameron Highlands where the reception was bad... *Phewww...Alhamdulillah* I felt relieved. I definitely will try to call her again soon. InshaAllah.

I now know where everybody is. I feel complete and at peace, to say the least. With FB, I hope to be in touch with my siblings for years to come. And hopefully soon, we will all meet in the flesh.

My family tree currently looks like this...

(stepdad) ______________ (stepmom)
Pakcik Man ------ Mak | Abah -----------Makcik Siti
_______::::::::::: ___________::::::::_____________

Joey ::::::::::::::::::::: Nor Rita :::::::::::Muhaimi
Nissa::::::::::::::::::: ME:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Nadia
Nabila
Aiman

My Mak and Abah had me and my elder Sis Nor Rita. They divorced after I was born and mom left and remarried to Pakcik Man and they had 5 kids - who are my half-siblings of the same mom. Abah married long after to a divorcee with 4 kids, and had 1 son from her, my younger bro, Muhaimi. So total siblings 8, if include stepmom's kids, 12. Big family huh? Ironic cos we don't really know each other. I am, however, very fortunate to be the only one who have lived with both parents and therefore got to know my siblings closely. Alhamdulillah. I am also the only one from my mom whose name did not start with "N" like the rest of my girl siblings. I wonder what would that be if my mom had the chance to name me instead. (I was named by my late paternal grandpa). Her name, of course, starts with "N".

This chapter is closed. At least, I hope so.

Pic taken almost 4 years ago in 2008.
Mak and my son

p/s : The very first time I met her was when I had an accident and fractured my leg in the late 80s. She visited me with her late husband (after a phonecall from my guardians about the accident). I sat at a corner and tried to sketch her face on a drawing pad. I was desperate to retain her image in my mind.

Alhamdulillah for cameras and technology!

My best friend is now married...

2011-10-03T20:34:00.002+03:00

H, my BFF forever. I am blessed with my close friends, but if I were to pick one as the closest, it's not hard at all. H knows me in and out, has been with me since we were 12. I wrote about her awhile back. Her struggles are different than mine, yet we sought for the same thing - our happy ever after. Yes we believe in fairy tales, not in the fiction kinda-way, but coming from a broken family, we have longed for love since we knew how it feels like or rather, how the lack of it feels like. It's painful. Tormenting. Empty.

Of course I am emotional, I am happy and I can't contain it anymore. I am happy for my dearest friend of all. A long journey indeed, from a broken family, losing her mother to cancer, moving to Qatar alone and struggling to find :life: to living. Allah is the best of all planners indeed. How I came to the picture living in the same continent as her, is nothing short of His wisdom in His great scheme of things. It's not a coincidence, nope. I don't believe that. I am here because we are meant to be sisters to each other - same bubbly personality, same chubbiness, same loud-speaker mouth, same speak-your-mind attitude, same taste in food, same principles - even twins will not have such similarities! And guess what, now we even have same type of mixed marriage - to an afro arab man. SubhanAllah. Isn't that just amazing?

I recall us celebrating our 33rd birthday together last year and you wished for a husband. Subhanallah. Wish Granted indeed!

I wrote you a letter when you were flying to get your dad from Singapore, made me cry. You said you cried too. :_(

May Allah continue to bless you my dearest sister...
He already did,

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Dearest H, Assalamualaikum
As you are making your journey back home tonight, I am suddenly hit with the realisation that I might 'lose' you in your process of finding your own happiness. Though this may come out selfish, I have to tell you what an amazing friendship we're having and I will definitely be missing the late nights chats that we have when you come over here. Or those times we scoured for the best food about town, or just cooking up our favourite dishes. From teenage crushes to make up brushes, there are always things we can talk about and share and running out of topic has never been our problem. Im not sure what your marriage life will be like and guess you probably won't be coming here alone anymore (will you?), but I know sincerely from my heart that we'll always be sisters no matter where we are. I will always have a spot in my heart for the chubby girl who came up to me and said Hi first in school. We've been inseparable since, and that was 21 years ago. Now I want to kick myself for not asking how it was for you when I got married. I left you then, did you feel as I feel now? Now I'm feeling a little emptiness and fear of losing you :( I cannot imagine life without you in it. So my only wish is that our friendship will stay as it's always been or even better, as we will be sharing even more things in common. Subhanallah, how fate arranges it, we're together in the middle east and got married to afro-arab man! Allah heard our silent prayers, and He has given us more than we ever ask for. ALHAMDULILLAH. I pray that we remain sisters duniyya wal akhirah and I sincerely pray for your happiness in your marriage to E. May Allah give you both barakah and rezk and bless you with pious children. Ameen

I look forward to welcome you and your husband to our abode. Finally, our family is now complete.

Allahu Akhbar!

Ruby
your friend, your sister

Beautiful Swan

2011-03-03T22:13:00.001+03:00

(I've been recording my daughter's progress since she was born in her own blog. The journals are less regular now as we get busier these days, however, today I just wrote in it again..)

My dear Salma,

As you grow up, it's getting harder for me to write as you. You have your own voice now, your own personality that I feel its unfair if this journal is written from your perspectives. Let me now record your life from my observations of you. I pray that you will enjoy reading these bits about you soon InshaAllah.

Earlier today the door bell rang. I wasn't expecting any guests so I really don't know who was at the door. You heard it, ran into your room, grabbed the piece of hejab, covered your head to see who was at the door. By this time, the person - who was just a lady selling dvds - has left but I was so pleasantly surprised that you are now so natural with the hejab. In fact from the very first day, even though you were unsure about it, you never once took it off in the classroom. I am really proud of you Salma. You became surer and more confident as we talked you through it, explaning to you the rewards behind the piece of cloth. Some kids in school tries to annoy you and pull off your hejab as a joke, but you always put in back on. You become the joke of the class for being different, but you strive on ahead. Noticing that you've been singled out by your classmates, I decided to come in and talk to them with your teacher's permission. I told them to respect your hejab and reminded them that their moms also put on hejab. It is not nice to pull out someone's hejab to embarrass them. It is Allah who told us to do so, so we are doing it just to please Him... I admit I almost choked with tears because I am standing there defending you my child. But it was well worth it. Your teacher helped you by punishing those who defied and now you wear hejab like your second skin, MashaAllah. I'm so proud of you. May Allah protect your deen and guide you to His path.

It still puzzles me, or rather amaze me how, from a clingy crying difficult baby - you've become such a thoughtful, caring, emotional little person. Sometimes when you feel a little left out, I come and talked to you. You remained silent, but I know you heard me, because tears trickled down your cheeks. It's not easy, this role as a mother. I am still making mistakes, all I ask is that you will keep forgiving me for them.

Love is a word we use liberally in this household. We say it everyday to each other and we even give it value. Currently it's 100,000 million times. Alhamdulillah.

Khalid fell asleep on the day bed in the living room just now. You went into the bedroom, took his favorite nighttime companion and placed it in his arms. Just yesterday as you were walking to the gate, you bade goodbye to us and didn't forget to say to Khalid "I love you" and "I'll miss you". Every time I see the both of you getting on so well together, I feel a tinge of pride and happiness - I know that even though we keep moving places and continue to be strangers to our neighbors, you continue to be best friends to each other. Sure you have your tiffs, but I suspect that those tiffs are normal between siblings and forgettable.

Your grades in school are very good. Your arabic has improved a lot and you recently got a present that you wanted for your birthday. We decided to give it to you for your good performance in school instead. Nek Ros used to reward me when I did well in school, and I often look forward to her treats - although sometimes I don't even deserve it...but her interests in my education keeps me motivated. I hope it will do the same to you too. Although by far, you've already outdone me in many ways my sweetheart.

I look forward to watch you grow and be part of your progress in life. Currently, you want to be a vet.

I love you 100,000 million times over and more Salma.

Rabbana Maaki fi duniyya wal akhirah. Ameen.

The Egypt I know

2011-02-01T08:24:00.003+03:00

My focus and attention now is on Egypt. Millions are pouring out in the streets for the past week to show their protest against their 30-year old government. It was meant to be a peaceful protest, just like the ones before. But this time, the Egyptians gather a louder voice – a strength coming from within them – after seeing Tunisia's president downfall not far back. 'We want it too', they say. 'We want freedom too'. A basic right long overdue.

I would probably not be as interested on the on-goings save for the fact that I'm married to an Egyptian. When I first stepped into Egypt back on the 1^st January of 2003, I was greeted by family and relatives all welcoming me as the new bride with hugs and kisses on my cheeks. I was eager to learn this affectionate way of greeting, often losing count as to how many kisses I've already given and on which cheek to start first. They forgave me although they often wonder (out loud, usually) why I can't speak Arabic, being Muslim.

We stepped in my husband's family home and more celebration continued. A spread of breakfast awaits us and soon after, very loud music accompanied us from an old stereo, nudging us to join in the dance in the hallway. This was unusual for me, having brought up by my Yemeni grandmother in her aristocrat ways – I can vouch that I never shook any bon-bons in front of my family back home. I had to kiss strangers a few hours back, now I should dance with them too. The warmth and passion of the Egyptians certainly bowled me over and I felt right at 'home'. (~~I saved some moves from my hey days and totally impressed them~~)

The honeymoon phase was probably the best time to oversee what Egypt really was, being consumed with impressing family and endless celebrations. Soon after, the reality sets in. Visits following that were not a bed of roses anymore. I loathed Egypt. Rather, I loathed BEING in Egypt. I find comfort (and reason) in other foreign wives like me, who felt the same way. I don't look forward to going there – and my relationship with my husband was tested every time we stepped into Egypt for our holiday breaks. It seems inappropriate to share some of my personal experiences quite publicly, but suffice to say, I am not made for Egypt. Water and electricity is quite unstable and the last place you want to be is in the toilet in the middle of something or in an elevator when the latter happens.

People don't care much about cleanliness so hygiene levels were poor – coming from highly sanitized Singapore was not helpful in this aspect. Cute babies are not very cute or kissable like that, trust me. I was also living in Germany then where I had to separate my junks and my organics with my bare hands. If I failed to put a box of cereal in the right garbage bin, a prying neighbor would be telling me to the neighborhood's manager and I will be served with a warning letter. Egypt is on the opposite end of that. Across our building was a bare land, and that's where our junks ended up in – just fling it out the window literally. Children wearing the same clothes they were wearing last week (and probably weeks before) play on the streets with whatever they can find.

Communications continue to be a problem for awhile until I figured out some basic words – like gaan (hungry), Ana aiza (I want), Hammam (toilet, but if u shorted it to Hamam – it becomes a pigeon). The letter ج is pronounced 'Ga' instead of 'Ja' and the letter V is often replaced with a newly created letter that looks like a ق but with 3 dots on it. Later on when I started to learn Classical Arabic, I find much difficulty switching from Classical to Egyptian dialect – Ana aiza in Egyptian would be Ana uridu in Classical Arabic which is just too textbook sounding for most arabs.

What I find most interesting about Egypt is that each time I come back, I noticed something I didn't before. It could be a good thing – like how beautiful are the old buildings, which once housed the bourgeois and elite society. Or something disturbing, like how many young children are actually working in the streets today for a piece of bread. As a tourist, I would be happy to give out some loose change to the beggars and often, they would invite even more of their friends and surround you until you give everybody something. I didn't mind that, I experienced that while travelling in a few 3^rd world countries. As long as they are not a part of you, it's quite easy to distant yourself from the reality. However recently on our last trip, while visiting the site of our new apartment, I noticed some young boys who also worked in the construction sites. There was no happiness on their faces. The childhood innocence was not there. They were keen on their work, carrying piles of materials without complain. I wanted to slap myself for not noticing these before. After that scene, I saw more and more young kids working around Egypt. The invasion of the discarded tuk-tuks of India – raised the employment index of child labor. These tuk-tuk riders get less than 3 ginis per trip as they serve small areas. It's actually lucrative, better than being in school.

It's not uncommon to see battered cars older than 20 years old in the streets. Not wise to own a sleek Mercedes CLS if you ask me. Pollution is part of the package. Countless times I got sick just travelling in a taxi with windows open (they save petrol by saving aircondition). Once someone joked 'This (polluted air) is from Allah', and I gave him a hard time for that. You cannot blame Allah for this; it's the work of man, very evil man. But how would that person know better since he never left his country in the first place. This (Egypt) was all he knows.

Take a ride in a car towards the airport, and the scene of 'incomplete' housing facilities filled up both sides of the highway. Structures were left unfinished to 'expand upwards' at a later time or when needed. Brick housing held together with mud and cement left as it is and ready for occupation. Alhamdulillah. At least they have homes. It is luxury to own a home for most Egyptians. The rich live a different lifestyle altogether – most in their luxurious apartments with security guards. Mohandesseen is one of such areas and irony is living in Boulak ad'Dakrour, the most populous town in Cairo which is just next to it – like Kings and Paupers. Boulak ad'Dakrour is so intensively over-populated (4.5million) that it cannot even accommodate taxis. The roads, wait, there is no road. To get there, we took a taxi, walk a little bit, took a pick-up truck and then continued with a tuk tuk to get to where one Aunt was living. To be inside someone's house, is to take a peek at how they've lived. Unfortunately, no matter how well-corniced your ceiling is, you still breathe in the same bad air.

Unstable food prices make meat, an everyday food for most people, unaffordable for most Egyptians. Breakfast for years has been Foul (fava beans) with bread. I don't find it particularly delectable but it is protein, and it does fill the tummy for a long time afterwards, a way to keep hunger at bay. On good days, people buy Tammiyya (or falafel), a tasty chickpeas and parsley fritter to eat with the foul, but nowadays, I find it mostly filled with old breadcrumbs.

I haven't told you about Egyptians. If you can understand them, it would be watching a stand-up comedy on daily basis. The people are loud, sarcastic but funny. I think they sometimes direct their frustrations by exaggerating very insignificant problems in their daily lives. A small family tiff can last for years and then with one meeting it's all as if nothing had happened. Men screaming at the tops of their voices in the streets will be hugging and shaking hands just a few minutes later. Women shouting in the streets are not an uncommon sight either. And they are VERY loud. Egyptians are mostly respectful to one another, often greeting the elder with their salutations and if it's a well-dressed stranger, they would assume you are a doctor or an engineer and calls you such. If you are a tourist, I don't blame you for not seeing this side of Egyptians – after all tourism is the only trade that the people can work in – if you've seen where they live and what they eat, you'll not complain about the rip-off you've just had for riding a camel – do consider it charity if it hurts you that much.

I pray changes will come to Egypt for many reasons. I hope that my children will grow up being proud of their heritage and rich history. I want Egyptians to have and live like people in other parts of the world have experienced. There are so many talented and educated Egyptians who have to stay abroad just to keep the bread on the table. They want to come back to the land of the Pyramids – they speak endlessly about their love to their country, more than anyone (from other countries) that I know of. Patriotism is deep rooted in the hearts of many Egyptians; I think it’s the television (ok, and history books too!). They keep playing movies and songs of that era (Nassr & Sadat) repeatedly that any 2 year old would be familiar with Umm Khalthoum. Part of it is because they were proud to be liberated at that time (hence they made movies & etc) but mostly because the television channels don't care a hoot about programming. A lot of channels repeat the programs like a clock, but I guess their laziness turns out to be "conditioning" for the new generation of Egyptians who are standing in Tahrir Square (and elsewhere) now asking for liberation and freedom. Nyeh to you Mub@rak!

It's much more complicated for Egypt than for Tunisia to have their leader ousted. Mainly because of the importance of Egypt to the West for ensuring peace to certain parties (guess who!) in the region. But I do pray for them well.

May Allah grant them success.

Ameen.

This is how to start a new year...

2011-01-10T21:04:00.006+03:00

Friends from Blogsphere...

From L-R
Elisa, Me+Salma, Naz+Aisyah & Lollies
Safa Park Picnic, Dubai 1.1.11

The wandering soul

2010-12-09T11:00:00.002+03:00

Alas, time waits for no (wo)man. A year has gone and now we have just entered the new Muharram, and I'm not sure if I am anticipating positively towards this new year and resolutions - there are none.

Or wait? Maybe there is.

I've gone through complete changes the past few years since coming to the middle-eastern land. Alhamdulillah, it was to the land of Islam - the land of Prophet Muhammad and scholars after him. I gained so much being there, language, knowledge and perhaps, if I'm not exaggerating, I felt lifted in Imaan. There was nothing stopping me to gain that knowledge and friends of the right kind seem to easily flock so rapidly offering sisterhood that is beyond friendship. Alas, all seems too good to be true. Accidents and events that happened during our stay there left a sour taste and we had to leave for some personal reasons. I know I will miss Saudi Arabia yet loathe it for another set of reasons.

Coming to Dubai was like a treat of candy to a young eager child. The setting is familiar, freedom is a natural right, and finally, I've found Independence that I so long for since I got married and moved to foreign speaking countries - is this a privilege or poison (for lack of better word)? It can be both. I love being independent, being able to sort things out by myself without waiting for the busy husband in small matters like handling the tv/internet subscription, the kids' school registrations or to bring me to weekly grocery shopping. With Allah's grace, I'm able to do everything by myself, and I'm so eager to. Then I quickly lost grasp and vision of what I wanted for myself. What I have built over the years and those very reasons why I wanted to live in a Muslim country/environment totally eluded me in cosmopolitan Dubai.

By Allah's grace and blessings again, I found an online school that would fit my spiritual targets and I thought I am on the right track. I still do, Alhamdulillah, as I see it as a blessing from Allah. However, I soon lost the companionship of camaraderie and slowly begin to feel further away from my mission. Alone, religion is a battle I have to fight by myself and I'm pretty sure, I am not strong enough for this.

May Allah help me. I'm penning my thoughts once again to set my focus clear. Hopefully, by speaking to myself, I keep myself on the right track and be aware of the changes inside and outside of me. I don't want to be the one left behind in the search for Truth. I can't bear Allah's wrath, nor do I feel at this point that I quite deserve His rewards.

O' Allah. You are the All-Hearer, All-See-er. Help me Allah. Guide me to the Path and keep me in your religion and make me one of those that You are pleased with. Ameen.

Journeys....

2010-10-28T19:34:00.001+03:00

Create your own travel map or travel blog

Find vacation rentals at TripAdvisor

A friend in need, is a friend indeed...

2010-04-07T04:29:00.001+03:00

My Conversation with a Sister...

Fatimah (name changed to protect her Identity)
ruby...

salaam

Ruby
wsalam sweet heart

Fatimah :
how r u??

cant help but worry about u sis...those statuses u keep puttin up

hope ur ok

Ruby
alhamdulilah im fine

Fatimah
alhamdulillah

Ruby
a bit depressed because i think im meeting a lot of strange people lately
i cant handle the opposition

Fatimah
i dont care what anyone says but wallahi ppl u spend time with eventually rub off on u
very very important to choose ur friends wisely
and not to get too close to just everybody

Ruby
i know that now.. i recently meet a lot of people
i need to choose my friends.. i havent found the best clique yet

still looking

Fatimah
for me i'd rather have one friend
yeah i know its difficult
cux u were so tight with someone but islam sometimes and how a person lives has to separate u
and the whiole point we should keep friends to help us move forward

Ruby
but some people might take it as we r being arrogant

Fatimah
u know what rub.....let them take it how they want
Allah knows ur intention
at the end of the day u cant please everyone

Ruby
looks like i have to cut off friends.. but it wont be nice

Fatimah
exactly thats the thing
whatever works for u girl
i mean if all they r doing is makin u do negative things....
thats the only choice u got

Ruby
then i wont have friends!!! UWAAHHHHH

Fatimah
u need to hang around ppl who'll help u stay steadfast in ur deen
lol
well maybe for now
but eventually u'll get righteous ones
just limit ur relationship with them
whats the use of gatherin if its not to remember Allah?

Ruby
sah!

Fatimah
remember the hadith when Allah sent angels to a gatherin where righteous ppl were and they were rememberin him

Ruby
naam

Fatimah
and he asked the angels account of everyone who was there

Ruby
i pray you'll be my friend in this world and hereafter sis.
i hope im not too wayward for u :(

Fatimah
ameen
lol
i hope i'm not for u...

Ruby
no, ur too strict, i need that!
kick me in the butt, i dont care, if u do it out of love for me and ALLAH

Fatimah
lol
all i know is if u keep hangin around pious ppl
even if its just one person
it'll definately have an effect on u

ur intentions r pure alhamdulillah
u r just easily pressured
and i have friends like that too

Ruby
i think my conscience signals are very sensitive

Fatimah
so ur company really really matters
for now just dont care too much about hurtin anyone's feelings
if u know they r the ones influencin u instead of u influencin them...
then its not worth it
u need to think of urself first

Ruby
my husband was telling me an example. of a man marrying a christian women (which is permitted) and a man marrying a muslimah

Fatimah
uh huh

Ruby
the man married to the christian will have to invest time to impress the woman to islam, but the man married to a muslimah can take the relationship up to another level

Fatimah
subhanallah

Ruby
like, when they discuss about holidays, naturally, HAJ or Umrah is a choice

Fatimah
i never even thought about it b4,its true

Ruby
so its like that with good friends...sah?

Fatimah
yup
and u know what ruby

Ruby
?

Fatimah
with u i see it as the better u r,the better ur family
alhamdulillah i see tat whenever u progress deenwise,u pick ur family up too

not just ur friends
so u're doing this for u and for them

May Allah help us wherever we find ourselves

Ruby
yes of course, i know my choices affect them directly

Ameen ya rab

Ruby
I think I need some lovin" lol

Fatimah
all the love u need can be gotten ...
just be patient
u need positive love

lol

Ruby
u know what..

can i cut and paste this conversation
i can change ur name if ur uncomfortable

Fatimah
why?

ok u can

Ruby
because 1. it reminds me that i still have a friend who can help me (tho she's far away
2. to share with others what i mean by a true friend..
one that can take me to Allah

Fatimah
sure u can....but get ready for some negative responses

how nice

inshaAllah

Ruby
no way.. :) i wouldnt let them
there is also a delete function

lolx

Fatimah
lol dont evn care if they say anythin bad
subhanallah u know once i know i'm doing the rigt thing

i never ever care what anyone thinks

Except Allah of course

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

I met "Fatimah" about 2 years ago in Dar Dhikir, Riyadh and she is one of my dearest friend. We were separated when she left Riyadh, but always there around in MSN or FB. She was the ONLY one who noticed that I was slowly discarding the abaya (since I came to Dubai) and reminded me gently. I really appreciate it sister, as I've said, I value your comments and am thankful that you cared about me enough to confront me about it. I love you for Allah's sake.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Another sister sent out an email to her contacts in UAE to help me establish connections with muslim sisters here. Baraqallahfeeki

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

May Allah reward you for your kind intentions.

Crossing bridges...(again)

2010-01-17T11:33:00.003+03:00

This is the part of my life that I hate. Or hate to think would be permanent. The gut has its own way of telling us when something is not right, Thank ALLAH for that. The gut surely knows what it wants, and feels upset and irritated when it didn't get what it wants. Well, my gut is definitely telling me that over and over again the past weeks. I just can't ignore it.

Although I'd like to think I'm in a better place (physically), the irony is that I may not be. I feel empty and clueless to say the least. I feel like I'm floating with no direction. I am not in control of my destiny, and it bothers me a LOT.

There are tell tale signs of this depression. I'm hanging out here (internet world) much longer than I need to. Am I doing something important? I'm afraid...NOT.

I need to cut some slack here. I'm after all, re-settling again after 2 years. Re-settling always drains out the energy of me. Much worst this time because the kids go to school now. No matter how drained out I am after searching for houses, furnitures, scouring the classifieds, I have to be there for their needs. Even being with them these days lost its taste because I'm always hurrying for deadlines. Pushing them to finish up their homeworks, and totally panicking when they are not in sync with what's going on. I feel helpless. And yes, without a helper too!

Most of all, it's not the physical work that wears me out of my normal jovial personality (or what it seems). It's the fact that I don't know where I'm going with all this changes taking place. The beloved husband is now a weekend husband, who drops by on weekends with little treats for us before he is being whisked away again in different countries to make ends meet. Not easy to keep telling the children it's not their dad that's ringing the doorbell now, it's just the housekeeping.

This emptiness, this depression seeks much more. It seeks the sanity of life, the spirituality and the harmony of peace. I miss you O'God!

This transit means running around, breathless at times, trying to keep things in order. At times, it is just a space of time that is meaningless until the laughter of the kids fill the room again as they trot back from school.

Life purposely living, is different from Living life with purpose. I seek to understand, I desire to learn. And I seek good friendships that will help me along when I tumble. To give good advise. To remind me of Your existence, O'Lord of the World.

I am not ungrateful. The past 2 years was marvellous. I learnt about you. I heard you in the most melodious recitations. I can speak a little arabic, but not too well that I can be proud of. I can read better now, but I'm nowhere near to finishing line. Not deserving of an applause, definitely, I should realise I could do better.

May You give me directions to the place I want to rest forever. AMEEEEN

We plan and HE plans!

2009-10-03T09:28:00.008+03:00

At the junction once again, waiting for the green lights so that I can proceed forward. There will be a good 1 and half months before that light will come on, but I've decided that I'll make the most out of it. So far, it's been good. I'm not complaining, if it's up to us, we would love to stay a little bit longer, but we plan and He plans, and He is the best of all planners [Holy Qur'an 8:30]

I love Saudi Arabia (KSA). Without a doubt, it has been an enriching life experience and I've met and mingled with the best kinds of Muslims. I will sorely miss life here. Here are some reasons why....

- The Islamic environment, e.g shops closed at solah time, segregation at public restaurants, etc making Islamic practice easy in our daily lives.

- The friends : Good practicing sisters who often taught me about Islam through their mannerisms. Who always utter praises to Allah in every sentence. With them, there is no back-biting or crudeness, love and peace is truly felt with them. The people who gives more than they take.

- Dar Ad Dhikir : The school of knowledge, where I learnt a handful of Surahs by heart, and learn the Arabic language in the best way possible and met wonderful good hearted sisters. Where I've heard the most melodic recitation of Al-Quran in ways I never heard before. A melting pot of races and language barriers where the only thing that matters, is the Journey of Faith.

- A new found freedom for Hejabis : Just when I thought I'm beginning to settle down in my Hejab, I found that there is freedom after all, that was not practiced elsewhere (because of non-segregation environment) Segregation means that now women can celebrate their differences and their natural need to beautify themselves. In a lawful environment, I once again see fashionable beauties who cares about their appearances underneath that veil! Unlike my counterparts in Asia where they either contradict the Hejab by overdressing (thus attracting attention, defeating the purpose of Hejab) or kept contented to their plain garb inside and outside of their house. Well blown-hair of assorted colors, flawless skins revealed in private parties where beauty is celebrated constantly, as a gift from Allah.

- Makkah & Madinah (outside of Riyadh) : Although I never felt ready enough to step into the Holy Land, I've had the fortune to have been invited several times. A trip that is always so humbling to the soul and an abstaining test that would require strength, perseverance and most of all patience. Where dunya paused for a gentle reminder of the eternal Akhirah. Here is where "I, me and myself" take a back seat.

Saudi Arabia is not perfect, just like any other cities in the world. It's problems may be unique because it is Unique to begin with. I am saddened by its problems, but know that Islam is not the cause of its problems, rather the lack of it is. Traditional garbs does not equals to understanding of religion, but the world likes to judge. While we are quick to cringe at the rates of maid raping, women's right to drive, unscrupulous corruptions and other crimes in KSA, we also readily accept Homosexuality, Incest, Murder, Abortion, etc from our world that has now become a norm. How hypocritical.

As a resident, I am proud to say that Riyadh was beyond my expectations. I am pleased that I feel at home instantly, even if that means relating only to the big clean malls! There is a lot a Muslim country can learn from it, but also a lot KSA could learn from them. My time here is a blessing from Allah s.w.t, and I am so thankful for it. I am thankful that I could now read Arabic, a handicap I thought was going to be permanent. I am thankful my daughter has memorized some Surahs of the Holy Quran. I am thankful for the company, for the good life he has bestowed on me. I am thankful that it has a positive effect on me.

If my path turns back here again, I wouldn't mind it at all. If not, I hope to upkeep what I've learnt and continue from where I've left off.

It's not goodbye yet.

May the next hijrah be good for all of us, Ameen.

Say you love me

2009-05-03T04:37:00.003+03:00

This is for mothers who have lost their children.
(and doctors who don't know how to symphatize with their patient's immediate kin)

"Wake him up! Wake him up!" Habibi screamed at me while driving like a mad man. I was at the back seat, with my son in my arms.

"Wake up Khalid! Open your eyes. Do you love Mummy?"
(He would always say "Yes")
"Khalid, you said you love Mummy?" You bluffed! Why don't you say it now!?" Say it Khalid!"
I demanded, my son cold in my hands. My mind was preparing myself for the worst, however optimistic I hoped to be at that time.

Going back to the scene that happened just 2 days ago, is not easy for me. Everytime I tried to flashback to the incident, it jerks up so much pain, I had to take myself back to the present immediately. I didn't even know how to put the whole story together until my son was finally resting with oxygen mask and all kinds of wires on his chest and hands did I ask my husband what he saw from the beginning.

"I heard Kakak screaming, that's when I came out. I saw her with Khalid in her hands in the pool" That's all I needed to know. I knew he drowned. He was all bloated and was already unconcious when I woke up to the scene in the garden where my husband was trying to rescucitate Ibni. I was not ready for that. I was not ready to lose my son. I don't know how I managed to be calm and told habibi to call ambulance. I dialed some numbers, but in the end, they just told my husband to bring him to the nearest clinic. He ran, barefooted, only had time to ask for his glasses while I shouted for the maid to take care of my daughter as I am leaving. It was all a matter of seconds. I grabbed the abaya that was already hanging near the doorway and a piece of scarf and sat behind with dear Ibni. I didn't want to waste any time, told the maid to open the garage door while husband was still getting in the car and running the engine. Every second counts.

Alhamdulillah, the nearest polyclinic was just around the corner. We just abandoned the car outside while Habibi took Ibni and ran inside, I was right behind them. Thank Allah the staffs were quick to react. Nurses and a doctor came and did their work immediately. His teeth were clamped up and refuse to open. I was just 5 steps away from him, to give space for medical staff to work. I didnt even know till yesterday that they had to put in a plastic tube through his nose and into his body to clear the air passage. I didn't know what was my state of consciousness, I was there time has just frozen for me. Suddenly my husband picked him up and we were again running to the car and now heading to the nearest hospital, as instructed by the doctor at the polyclinic.

The hospital although near, would take a while to get to since it was on the opposite site of the road. Somehow my husband was going for the shortest way possible. We met with a lot of dead ends. The car was abrupt and jumpy all the time. In the backseat, was a mother trying to keep his son awake. His body was at least twice its weight. Cold. Motionless. He didnt respond to anything. His eyes were rolling backwards. His breathing was slow. I didnt even dare to press on any parts of his body fearing that I could harm him more. He was not my son. I didnt feel his bones like I would have. I didnt feel his warmth. He didn't call for me like he would have. Habibi kept telling me to keep him awake. I tried all my best, at times I wanted to give in and let my heart scream in pain, but habibi demanded that I don't lose it now. I brushed my pain aside to be strong for him and for habibi. I noticed even Habibi was close to wailing as he was driving impatiently to the destination. I heard him, but I couldn't do that. I just had to be there for my son. I had to wake him up. I kept bouncing him on my laps (we were told to keep him in sitting position), and had to keep on talking very loudly to keep him awake. I didn't feel like it. I felt like fainting no, I felt like dying.

As soon as we reached the hospital, habibi jumped out grabbed ibni and again, hospital staffs showed us the way and Ibni was treated immediately. A few minutes later, after fiddling with a lot of medical equipments, Ibni cried. That was my sign. I thought I could cry now because he will be alright. Again, I couldn't. Doctors were quick to stop me saying he is alright, stop crying. Earlier, i tried to explain that my son must have swallowed a lot of water (this was obvious, his physical state was showing, maybe i was looking for a comforting answer). The doctor said "It didn't matter if he drank a whole lake. That only happens on TV" I think I did retort something about being human. I didn't care to fight with rude staffs that day, I had enough. More than enough. Ibni was sent for a CatScan and Xray right after, and then during the CatScan he actually said something. Habibi was with him in that room, but unfortunately cannot tell what he was saying. I wished it was me instead in that room, because I could understand my baby. He was warded to ICU for observation and no one could stay in the room with him. Habibi stayed while I brought the rest home. I could only do so when I know my son is allright. I knew because eventhough he was in terrible pain and shock lying helpless on the bed, he obliged to kiss my eyes and my lips. He also said he loves me.

This journey is traumatic for us. I think at this point, we're still recovering from the state of panic, losing a loved one and suffering from post traumatic stress. I don't think I even had time to deal with the whole accident. I was either awake and doing what I had to do, or sleeping from dead tiredness.

Today is the beginning of the week, marking the end of Spring Holidays for me. Just last week, I thought life had become smooth sailing. I could be easily envied for having what I have. I hear other people's problem and never thought that it could be mine. Maybe I became too bold by thinking that. People had me thinking that material things could make them happy. They constantly blame me for not understanding their positions. But I learnt the hard way. Nothing in this world mean anything at all, without the loved ones. The ones who constantly bring joy to your life. Smiles to your face. Warmth to your heart. I don't wish upon anyone to have to carry their dead sons in their arms. Body cold and limp. No one should go through that, but if you do, then may Allah give you strength and patience for it. Alhamdulillah, my instinct told me to call a group of friends I knew were having halaqa on that day. I begged them for their duas. I know angels were around them (angels are at gatherings where Allah's name is mentioned). As soon as I did that, Ibni vomitted out most of what he ate that afternoon. He must have felt relief. That should help relief some of his bloatedness.

When I came to visit him after dropping Kakak off for school yesterday, he was already in his usual self. He was chirpy, cheerful and talkative. He talked non-stop and even explained how the accident. "I fall down, and then swim down, swim down..." Much too clever for a 3 year old. Everytime he did something, crying, talking, telling a story, I counted my blessings.

I counted when my blessings when I remembered that we were sleeping in the living room, and not in the bedroom when the incident happened

I counted my blessings for the earlier God-sent instict to ask habibi to rest (he just came back from a flight that morning) on the couch instead of in the bedroom

I counted my blessings my habibi was at home instead of in another country

I counted my blessings when I knew later my son fell on the shallow end (deep end reaches 1.8m), hence allowing Kakak (who had a float) to help him up, and called for us

I counted my blessings when my husband heard Kakak's screamings for help.

I counted my blessings because kakak was big enough and had the intelligence to help her brother out

I counted my blessings for having employees who could act to act to this situation promptly and sensitively.

I counted my blessings because the polyclinic is just around the corner.

I counted my blessings when Ibni cried (it means he is allright)

I counted my blessings when he talked (it means he didnt lose his abilities)

I counted my blessings when he held my hand (it means he still remembers me)

I counted my blessings and Im still counting them.

May Allah keep all of us safe. Every moment matters now to me than it ever was before.

Count your blessings.

The Harem Night

2009-04-11T09:17:00.004+03:00

Finally! I can say that I've done something interesting after toiling hours, days, weeks on books and homeworks. We've got invited to a Jordanian wedding! Oooh yes, that means shopping time - so "Hey Big Spender, spend your money on me laaa" I begged, he agreed eventhough that's against all his principles - namely,

1. To shop for something I'm most likely to wear only ONCE.
2. To PAY for it - because it's most likely going to be in the few hundreds zone.
3. And to COME with me during the shopping trip.
(He also couldn't understand why I'm so afraid to buy a dress that I like in case someone else showed up in the same one)

This is Cinderella night baby, and no, I'm not going to wear any black abaya or hejab for that matter. I've got my own golden ticket to the wedding hall and I'm gonna groove y'all. I don't know anyone there, but I'm hoping Habibi's colleagues' wives will be there - I've met them only once like... a year ago. But I've made up my mind to go anyway. I can't miss this chance, even if it means sitting at a table by myself.

Shopping was agonizing, I can't seem to find anything I like or if there was something, it wasn't in my size *cough*. I wish I actually sewn myself a dress, but first I have to know how to sew? So that wasn't going to work either. We went home after 3 hours of searching, dissapointed, but I remembered vaguely there was something hanging in my wardrobe that stood out and untouched because it was a kaftan like-3/4 length top, hot pink, flowery, sequinned and see-through - all the reasons why it was left there and completely ignored. (99% of what's in my wardrobe are earth tones to dark coloured clothes). I bought that piece 2 years ago for my cousin's wedding, to wear over a long-sleeve non-see-through long dress. That'll work I thought, with a nice white sleeveless lacey tank top and white pants - I worked out the outfit! Say who???

Make-up all by myself was another torture in itself, because, my equipments must have expired, and truthfully, I really can't paint. My color palettes must have been one I bought for my daughter from Watson's last summer in Malaysia. I only had a mac blush and lipstick - and they are natural tones, so natural make up look was the look for me. Anyway who needs make-up if you have exotic looks huh? :P

We got binti to bed, ibni on his favourite cartoon (emergency technique) and left him with the maid. At the doorstep, I realised I don't have matching shoes. I don't know that many people who has shoes that matches a pink outfit! Nope, no stilettos either. I have only one pair with a pointy end and considerably elavated - and its brown. Ok, obviously I haven't thought about this. Say who cares???

It was about 9pm when we reached the venue. It was really less than 10mins drive from our place. In the car, I'm not sure I should step out and had this Dr. Phil moment with my habibi and needed to talk about my feelings, tra la la.. Habibi shooed me out of the car and I found myself in the entrance with my phone confiscated (until after the party), my handbag checked and I chucked away my abaya, hejab and niqaab for the fashion Exposé.

I walked in to a roomful of very beautiful, heeled, well dressed arab women strutting their looks and moves on the red carpet which was in between the dining tables/chairs on each side of the hall. This is a jaw-dropping scene that I may not be able to fully express in words. I sat at a table where there was no one, and just observed the party accompanied by Arabian Kahwa (coffee) and Shaii (tea). Silky pink, Sapphire blue, Royal yellow, Emerald green, glitters, sequins, the elegant black numbers were all part of the scene. Bad hair days shouldn't exist here but unfortunately mine was suffering from that last night. The amount of CFC's in this room alone should speed up global warming by at least a century. And the make up on one person's face should be my supply for a year at least. Having said that, I must admit that arab women are really drop-dead gorgeous. Mashaallah.

I gawked and hope the jaw-dropping wasn't obvious and enjoyed the blasting arabic music that was swaying the ladies in the right ways. I really can't tell if the arab women were elegantly demure or tough and brash last night. They either make smooth, gentle movements or jumpy syncronized ones that sometimes appear robotic. By this time, some of husband's colleagues' wives came and they sat at my table. Soon, we got in the mood and started dancing too - and I went all out on Shakira's "Forever" as it was the only song in english and one that I recognized. Oooo I felt sweat coming out on my forehead and it was all good, baby! While the CFC's on the arab women's hair helped them maintain their classy evening look and bounced obediently as per needed, mine was going static all over the place.

Once in awhile, I'll go to the reception to get my handphone just to see how Habibi is doing. Apparently on his side, the music was coming out literally from a car's stereo system! On our side, early in the evening, they played some video slides of the couple from the stage, and soon, I was told that the groom will come to our side of the hall. I was frantic at this point because I don't understand how is it a man can come into his hall while we are all 'uncovered'. The lights were dimmed and I thought..."Oh, that's how they do it", but no. The next scene I was going to experience reminded me of the couple in that America's Got Talent show, the Quick Change couple? In just a few seconds playing by ear, the room was filled with abaya-clad women covered from head to toe. I was impressed. So this is how they do it.

The bride was dressed in a stunning (ok, this is subjective, i really didn't like it) strapless white ballroom bridal dress and the groom in his tuxedo. They made their way to the altar for rings exchange ceremony, some dancing on stage and later the groom exited to greet his male guests. My next question need no answer, the male guests will not be seeing the bride at all. And that make sense, why should another man check out out his beautiful new wife?!

Ballroom gowns revealed again soon after the groom left and now the wife is left to party on her own with her family, relatives and friends around her. What I didn't understand though was why there was a camera women taking videos of the bride dancing surrounded by femme fatales of the night. Obviously she (the bride) will be watching the video with her husband? Or other relatives? I wasn't the only one uncomfortable with that, because everytime the video points to our direction, we would duck or cover our faces with the abayas.

It was already past eleven when I called habibi again and found him having dinner already while we were served with a glass of juice. I thought when the men is done, our dinner would arrive. At around 12am, quick change sequel again when groom and relatives of the bride came into the hall. They took photos on stage, showed off the wedding jewelleries presented to the bride by the groom's mom...the photo taking, dancing on stage was becoming indulgent to me by now because I was practically starving at a wedding. Im only saying that because I came from an Asian society where food was a big deal at any weddings. It is the highlight that is as important as the bride and groom's costumes itself. I know some weddings I went to where I only had to eat and didn't even get to see the couple. So did somebody forgot about the guests or whaaaaat? At 12.30am, I concluded that femme fatales don't eat, and called my habibi again to leave.

After all my effort dressing up (fortunately did not spend a cent!), I get a shawarma for dinner.

How's that for my first wedding in Saudi Arabia?

:)

I finally did it. Let me introduce...

2009-04-03T18:41:00.006+03:00

My hejab site.

http://ilovehejab.multiply.com

After a long procastination period (see blog entry dated April 2007), I decided to launch my site anyways, using a simple website to host it. A modest no frills site where I put up collections of stories and poems by sisters from all over the world (web) about hejab. My initial idea was just to have a place to collect these stories and poems to motivate non-hejabi muslimahs to go ahead and make that step towards Allah. I wanted to do it on my own site, but after years, I did not find anyone to help me put up the site with the designs that I already have, so today, Alhamdulillah, I decided to just put it up on multiply as it is so accessible to everyone, without having to be a member.

The stories (ROLE MODELS : BLOG STORIES) are those I personally find motivating and informative, while at the same time brings out humility and gratefulness to Allah s.w.t. The first story that I have posted is the one written by Yvonne Ridley, the feminist British journalist who was captured by Taleban years ago, and then became muslim and embraced hejab whole heartedly.

I've also uploaded quite a few poems (POEM COLLECTION) that I've collected over the years on hejab and have given the writers their credits unless its found to be anonymous.

Of course, there is also a FACT FILE listings (links) of various other sites that has information on Hejab, hadeeths, quranic verse pertaining to hejab, etc etc.

I'm also eager to receive submissions of Hejabi stories - from those who have been wearing hejab their whole life, or became a hejabi later in life. Hejabi, Niqaabi, all are welcome to send in their stories or poems. Please send your submissions to ilovehejab@gmail.com. To those who have not yet take the big step and has questions, feel free to email too. Inshaallah there will be an FAQ section that I'd add on later.

I look forward to hear from you.

Wassalam
Ruby@I love hejab

Just the beginning...

2009-04-01T22:36:00.002+03:00

I'm one of the guilty FB users who have abandoned Blogspot for a more laid back interactive tool. And no, I haven't been blogging or else it would have been printed here already.

I missed it tho. I believe blogging had somehow sorted out my life in a strange cant-put-my-finger-on it way. All my rants and journey earlier (blogging days) was a documentary of the path I was taking, weighing the routes I wish to take, and finally reaching the destination. There is something I have forgotten to do though. I forgot to think about what to do when I reached the destination. How can I forget my breathlessness, my silent shock when news that I was going to move here (KSA) was told to me in a hospital room where both my kids were admitted for some virus infection? It was an awkward place or situation to celebrate, yet too good a news to just let pass. I cried, yes, I remembered. I cried on my habibi's shoulder and praising Him for answering our prayers.

A year had passed...and life has changed in such big ways for all of us. When He wants to give, He can give beyond any imagination. ALHAMDULILLAHI RABBIL ALAMEEN. I already knew long ago that He answers prayers, and I know for certain, the prayers will be answered in time - when the time is right. And He knows better. ALLAHUL AZEEEM.

The time has come to set new priorities, new objectives or set the bar higher. I'm not quite sure what it is right now. But I know, there is a calling to do more. It's only the least I can do for all the blessings he has bestowed on us. Before I could even think of any, got to straightened out the daily rituals, persevere in the difficulties I'm facing while learning, be patient with things that don't work out, be ikhlas in friendship...

I pray I will find out what the calling is soon...

I pray that I will be better, not worst

I pray that I live as a believing Muslim, and die as a believing Muslim

I pray that my children be protected from harm always

I pray for my husband's safety when he travels for work

I pray for all our success

I pray I won't forget to pray

Miserable...

2009-03-02T15:02:00.002+03:00

I thought I was lending a hand...
but the hand was quickly cuffed

I thought I was sharing...
Soon tongues started wrangling

I thought I could be a friend...
but clearly, it was one-sided

how could i have
so much to give
yet my intention
roused suspicion

how ironic.
life is.

should i ask Him to take it all back?
the things He has blessed me with?
the things that makes one happy
but doesn't real happiness lies underneath?

i prayed for this day once
i've envisioned it
planned it
that the day will not be complete
if there is no one to share it

yet, there is no one to share it
no one wants to hear

I shed a tear or two today
not suprisingly, there is no one near...

Nostalgia

2009-02-22T06:51:00.004+03:00

All boxes are now unpacked. Over 60 of them in all. Not including other bulky items, such as the baby's crib and our first bed. I'm puzzled how some things even got here, then remembered how ridiculous the dumping laws were back in Germany. I'm typing on the desktop, which is the last thing we fixed out of those boxes. All the cables connected, power supply attached, and I don't even remember how to switch it on! It was a funny moment, what over 1 year of separation can do to you. I pressed the Power button on the monitor, but it says No signal. lol. I've been spending too much time with my laptop, I just realised.

Over one year ago, I moved on to a new place, acquired new things and adapted to the new life. Detachment was easy for me, with all the experiences that I had, but who's to say it's not painful. Everytime I detach from something, it hurts. But I learned not to think about it, let's not swell it, huh. For the very first time in my life, I had the option of having the things I thought I lost, back. Every single piece of furniture, every little notebook, every piece of photograph, every little souvenier we bought when we travelled, every book we saved and spent on, every gift from well meaning friends, every cd, our first couch, our first dining table - which was just a small working table with foldable chairs, our baby's first potty, first tricycle, first bedsheets,... we got them here now. We couldn't afford many things back then, but the fact that we scrimped and saved for each little thing and as the years passed, we learned that quality surpassed the price tags. Just as we decided to give treats to ourselves, Allah sent us somewhere else, and all those treats still wrapped in their boxes together with everything else, was sent to a warehouse to wait indefinitely.

Indefinitely until just a month ago, they arrived via Bavaria Express and delivered to the doorstep of our new abode to stay with us. I wonder how we managed to pack 60 boxes full of things from that 2-bedroom apartment. How did they all fit in that tiny first apartment? I unpacked them one by one gleefully...sometimes laughing when I see something that striked a good memory, sometimes crying when I am touched by something that I sorely missed. Sometimes disgusted by the moulds of things that shouldn't even be here. All in all, I feel nostalgic. Alhamdulillah.

The first couch now sits comfortably in the corner, finally having a space for itself after being tossed from room to room as we try to figure out the perfect place for it.As I'm typing on this keyboard, looking at the monitor which used to sit right next to my tiny kitchen in a small space of my living room in Forchheim, I can't help but feel at home in this newly set up study room. The first dining table is now back to being a work table, did I mention that it is bright Red? Over 4 years of my life was spent with these mismatched furnitures that I must have bought on impulse or excitement of having what I thought was my bachelor's pad. I was newly married.

It seems to me that married people should have a more mature taste in selecting their wares. It didn't help that I once dabbled in Interior Design, so I am usually torn about the 'themes'. In my mind, I've always pictured a broken down volkswagen-turned couch to be my centrepiece of a living room. The idea didn't go down well with my husband who always makes safe choices in his life (I'm the exception!) That 4+years (in Germany), I was on the road of finding my identity, finding my new interests, finding my place in an inter-cultural marriage set up, absorbing new interests and knowledge, and then the family grew... mismatched continued to live in.

But just so you know, people grow up. After absorbing all the influences, I am at peace now. The journey was humbling. Priceless.

I dare say, this is my favourite room in the house. I feel so at home.

Alhamdulillah.

Internet = Resource + Distraction

2008-11-16T16:00:00.002+03:00

I have been lingering around Facebook a bit these days, after I'm finally convinced that it's quite a great place to hang out and touch bases with dear friends, and not just a huge spamboard where people think its ok to send teddy bears, flowers, chocolates, and what-have-you-applications. I could ignore those lovely virtual gifts and just hang out to see photos and leave a comment of two on the status bar that will surely make someone's day.

So yes, basically, after all odds, I'm back online, with only the neighbour's open wireless network, and so, I'm technically at their mercy. I have no say about when they should switch on their modems, or to ask them to call the helpdesk when the server seems slow. Well, honestly, I don't even know which neighbour this is. But if that is the best I can get, then what the heck.

However, I'm not too keen on chats or blogging as I used to. It is nice to be updated once in awhile about an old friend, but daily basis will wear me out. I know how addicted I can be sitting on this chair typing away without noticing the hours that went by...

As I am a freelance homebased Designer, the internet provides me with the tools for my craft. I communicate with my clients via email, send my projects to the printing company and pay them without moving from my seat. I also regularly download free fonts and pictures that are appropriate for my work. Without internet, it seems quite difficult to do what I do from home.

I've also been volunteering as a Layout Designer for my school's Inhouse Newsletter. This alone takes a couple of hours to finish up, and again, quite impossible without the internet.

I'm thankful for this great invention, but I can't help being distracted too. The internet offers me too much and I'm always curious to see how much I can explore. I found out that I can watch tv series/movies and download them at my fancy. Then just 2 days ago, dear Kak Teh introduced me to scrapblogging...and yes I'm hooked. My kids also enjoy their time on my pc. I've found many nice sites for them, and Binti is totally hooked with http://Boowakwala.com introduced to me yonks ago by fellow blogger CK. I just found Baby Karaoke for Adik too http://raisingchildren.net.au/baby_karaoke/baby_karaoke_landing.html at a very cool website that also lets me download pdf books about babies, toddlers, preschoolers, schoolkids, cookbook, etc. I can't wait to print them out.

I'm also a bit restless these days because its the 'that' time again. Time to move, adapt to changes, maybe Binti will be removed from her current school that she loves so much to another school. May Allah help us go through all these new changes. Ameen.

Simple Arabic for Ramadhan

2008-09-24T01:22:00.008+03:00

Every Ramadhan, I feel compelled to work on small projects that promotes Islamic Beliefs & Knowledge while strengthening Ukhwah. Last Ramadhan was one of the best, working along a whole group of online community for an Amal project with an Orphanage.

However this year, when I thought I was more motivated than ever, I actually did nothing. I've not done nothing for many years, so obviously this fact disturbs me. I chose to spend a joyous Eid with family (in SG) over spending a peaceful and spiritual Ramadhan in Riyadh, and I'm paying a heavy price for it. Without support from the environment, my Husband's gentle reminders and good friends to go tarawih with, I'm quite lost, and hopeless this Ramadhan.

So why blog. I am actually frantic about my inactivity this Ramadhan, which includes poor performance of Ibadah. I'm trying to catch up these last 10 days of Ramadhan, but who am I to fool? Allah is all Hearing-All Knowing. But HE is also merciful, HE must have heard me saying countless times how badly I have done this Ramadhan, and have watched me doing nothing about it. HE heard, and so HE gave me an idea.

So I decided to impart a small knowledge that may be useful to some people. I'd like to share with non-arabic speaking muslims on how to use simple Islamic phrases at the right places.

_________________________________________________________________

Most common mistakes people make with Arabic phrases...

The most common mistake people make is with the phrases 'Alhamdulillah, Subha-Allah, Masha-Allah'

Arabic English
Shukran : Thank you

Shukran means Thank you, but it is not to be used to Thank Allah after a sentence. You cannot say, "I passed my exams, Shukran!" It is not even grammatically right to use Shukran in this manner because it will just mean "I passed my exams, Thank you!" For Thanking Allah, the best way is to say, ALHAMDULILLAH which means, "Praise Be to Allah!"

You can say Alhamdulillah in many cases, e.g :

When someone commented on your well-being
"Alhamdulillah, It's all from Allah.."

When you finish eating
"Alhamdulillah, that was delicious..."

(There is a lot to thank Allah for, so technically, you can use this daily and constantly...!)

'Abdallah b. Amr reported God's messenger saying that "Praise be to God" (Al-Hamdu Lillah) is the beginning of thanksgiving, for the man who does not praise God has not thanked Him." ³

But if you wish to say thanks to a fellow muslim, it is better to say "Jazakallahu Khair" (May Allah reward you for the Good), and if you heard this phrase being said to you, you can say "Wa iya kum" (And to you too)

What about "Masha-Allah"
I've heard this phrase being used in the most absolutely wrong places.

"I saw an accident, Masha-Allah!"
"That muslim is behaving badly, Masha-Allah!"
If you think these sentences are right, then you SO have to read on. Literally means "Whatever Allah (God) wills" However, Masha-Allah is normally used on occasions where there is surprise or in praise of Allah's gifts. For example you can say it...

When you see a beautiful baby
"Mashaallah, What a lovely baby!".

When your sister gets accepted into University
"Mashaallah, That is great news! Congratulations!"

When you realise that your friend is now a politician
"Mashaallah, I can't believe you became a politician!"

When to use Subhana-Allah then? Let's first understand its meanings. Subhanallah means Glory be to Allah. This phrase is often used when praising God or exclaiming awe at His attributes, bounties, or creation. It can also be used as a phrase of exclamation (ie. "Wow!").

You can use this phrase...

When you see a bird hatching from its egg
"Subhanallah, Look at the miracle"

When you hear an amazing story from the Quran
"Subhanallah, you mean the baby can talk?"

That's all I have for now. If you have any questions, or would like to find out if you are using the phrases correctly, do leave a msg on my comment box. May it be useful to whoever reads it, spreads it, and uses the phrases in the correct form, so that we may become better muslims for remembering to praise the Almighty for all that He has bestowed on us. Ameen.

http://muslimmatters.org/2008/01/07/alhamdulillah-a-linguistic-miracle-of-the-quran/
http://www.usc.edu/dept/MSA/reference/glossary/term.JAK.html
http://www.islamic-dictionary.com/index.php?word=mashallah
http://islam.about.com/od/glossary/g/subhanallah.htm
http://www.angelfire.com/mo2/scarves/sayings.html

Story from the Quran
http://www.islamfortoday.com/galvan03.htm

May your ramadhan be a lot better than mine....

Proverb

2008-09-17T06:46:00.000+03:00

May Bygones be Bygones...

2008-09-07T20:25:00.003+03:00

I was very nervous about the meeting. The venue is set, at my sis' Rita's place. The bus arriving from Singapore was late due to bad traffic. It was pouring heavily that day, and we were stranded and waiting for a cab to bring us there. I was getting anxious. I can see that my husband is very tired from the trip and the waiting and so are the kids. I was anticipating his complains, but there was none.

When we got there, my mom was already there. She look different than I recalled. Younger I think. She was accompanied by her 2 children, N & A. The house was filled with chatter, I must admit, the kids helped break the ice. I think I introduced my mom as 'my mother' to Habibi, and N as 'step sister', but later realized she was in fact my 'half sister'. I'm not sure if it was ok to introduce Mom as 'my mother', but I already did. It was awkward sometimes when we got lost for words, but the chinese movie running on the LCD TV on the wall helped as we deliberately use it to conceal the stagnant pauses.

I can tell Rita was a little awkward, she admitted it later, saying how uncomfortable she was before I came. It's hard to catch up when we don't really know where to start. It must have been more than 10 years since I last saw my Mom, and at least 5 years since I last saw Rita. I believed Mom was the most uncomfortable of all, eventhough she had N & A with her. N was really warm and friendly, just as she was more than 10 years ago, bubbly and cheerful. She stayed with us while Mom wanted to go home that night. A, her youngest son went with her. She made us promise to come to Perak, where she now lives, for lunch the next day. I made her promise to cook for me my favourite 'Lemak Cili Api'.

Next day.

Rita asked me if I am game to rent a bigger 7-seater so that we all can go together instead of driving 2 smaller cars. I agreed, it was a very comfortable family car, and we made that trip to Perak in only an hour or so. Soon as we reached, I could smell my mom's cooking, and we immedicately helped ourselves to the feast she prepared for us. Lemak Ketam Cili Api, Assam Pedas Ikan Duri, Pucuk Paku, etc... I must have helped myself to at least 3 plates of rice. Beras kampung really does taste different. My mom, I noticed didn't say much, but I'm counting that my enthusiasm about her cooking made her happy. Right after the feast, we were treated with baskets of local fruits, Rambutan, Manggis...and Durian! She made a lot of effort, I can't help but noticed. I wanted so much to take her picture, but I'm worried that she may turn me down flatly, so I took general pictures, so as not to make it so obvious. She tried to befriend our children, playing with them, feeding them. She even bathed Ibni and I let her. It felt like a whole family, as if we've never been separated all our lives.

Later that evening, I summed up courage to ask N, my half sister, the question that was burning me the whole night before. I really wanted to know if N, and all her siblings, knew about Rita & me. I wonder if they officially knew that we are infact, their elder half sisters. I wanted to know what is allowed to be out in the open and what is supposed to be underwrapped. As much as I like everyone to be honest, I have to respect and be sensitive to my Mom's feelings and situation. But Alhamdulillah, N assured me that it is already known to them. I'm still not sure if they had just assumed it, or was told, but I guess it is not important anymore. What's important is that Mom and her children accepted us. I didn't realise that when I moved into my mom's house 10 years ago, I was opening a pandora's box. My existence then triggered many questions and almost blew her secrets, but I must give credit to her late husband, who was the most understanding and loving to her despite her past baggages.

I hope to be in contact with them frequently and visit whenever I'm in town. Even Rita seems happy about the whole meeting, eventhough she was apprehensive at first. I'm really grateful to Allah who gave me this priceless opportunity to be with my 'family'. We may all lead different lives, but we are still related strongly by blood. It is for this reason that I promise to continue to keep in touch no matter where I am. It was only a 2 days visit, but the memories will be with me forever.

Mom called the next day I arrived in SG. I was pleasantly surprised. Again, I didn't have much to say, but I was bursting with happiness. I think my job is done.

***AL Fatehah to my step father, a celebrated song-writer/photo editor/artist mgr who passed away on June 2008. He was a kind man, a man who would give his all for his beloved wife and children. He passed away soon after building a house for his wife, my Mom. Terimakasih Pakcik, semoga Allah membalas segala jasa baik pakcik, dan semoga roh Pakcik bersama dengan orang2 yang Allah kasihi. Ameen.

The thing about friends

2008-08-27T05:05:00.003+03:00

Alhamdulillah I am blessed with many friends. Many friends helped me along the way and I honor and pay my tributes to them for their patience, love and everything we shared during our times together. But as we travel the road to growing up, we have changed, or evolved to become individual persons and our paths may not necessarily cross. Time limits us further with family obligations or work, or simply distance-wise, is not helping in fostering those friendships further.

What to do when you have time to pick up the phone to call your friends? Which friend do you call? I call those who are dearest to me by the number of years I've known them. Or try to find them online. And usually, it is quite easy to pick up the pieces. But what if the pieces are.... awkward? Like finding out your buddy is crowned for a beauty queen pageant (mrs category or not) when your only passion in life now is to protect THAT beauty! Like finding out your old friend is knocked up and 3 months pregnant and that person who was responsible for it just left upon learning the truth? Like knowing from someone else that your best friend took off the hejab only after a year to go 3 steps back? How can I ever feel peace and joy when I talk about these friends ever again?

As I'm trying to live my life, and move forward, how do I deal with friends from the past? Truth is, there is nothing in common anymore. They know I will accept them no matter what, I will be around if they need me. But friendship is a 2-way thing, isn't it? I want something back too. I want friends who inspire, not depress me. I want our conversations to be about Allah, or always in constant reminders of Him. I want to praise Allah with them, reciting Masha-Allah, Subhan-Allah, Allah Akhbar at every slight blessings. I want to make dua's for my friends like they make dua's for me. How differerent things have become now. How different things are in Riyadh.

I miss Riyadh. I miss my sisters in Riyadh.

May Allah help my friends who are in trouble, and may Allah bless my friends who loves me for His sake.

The thing about family

2008-08-27T04:24:00.003+03:00

I am home. Or the place I once called Home. I have mixed feelings about it now. Used to look forward to every trip, but this time, I was not so anxious to get here. I have good reasons too. It has already been ...a little more than 2 weeks? Besides my family whom I am spending most times with, there is really nothing else here, except the fact that I can walk down the grocery shop by myself. Nothing else fascinates me.

Tried to call Abah two times. He wasn't home when i called. Got his mobile number, but there was no answer, probably because he was busy working. The first time I called my half-brother answered, he was kind and polite, and I wonder about him. We've never lived in the same house before, it is sad that the only thing we both share is my father's genes. The 2nd time, my step mother who answered wasn't as hospitable. I was actually a little shocked. She was harsh and snappy, not like before. I was taken aback. Of course I was upset. It took me a lot of guts and conviction to even want to call him. When I did, I get a 'warm' welcome for it.

It took me more than a week to get hold of some numbers in Pahang, to get to my sister who lives in Shah Alam. In the end I got hold of her, and alhamdulillah, finally, I hear a sincere voice of happiness and I'm glad that I made that call. We talked a little bit and I confirmed my intention to visit her. But I also have another request, for her to get hold of my mom, who recently lost her husband. She wasn't so keen. She said she will try, I'm not sure what that means. I'm sure that I'm the only one of this (if u can call it) family who is actually interested to strengthen ties. I know Rita don't want to have anything to do with our parents, but I feel obligated to, since I'm the one who is farthest from everyone. Rita suprised me the next day by informing me that she actually kept her word. She called our mother and apparently mom promised to visit her at her place when I come. I was exhilarated, but Rita was quick to advice me not to be too hopeful. She obviously don't want me to be dissapointed in case mom does not turn up.

I will be making the trip very soon. I pray that Allah will make the journey smooth for us, and that the reunion be blessed and memorable.

Makeover for the tamed soul

2008-08-17T03:07:00.003+03:00

A little over 5 years ago, when I was about to be married to my arab husband, a concerned friend recommended me the controversial royalty spill all coffee table book, Princess. Hooked, I began to read the sequels, and was even more flabbergasted at what I was reading. I began to have insecurities and formed unfair judgements about arabs and what was going on in their countries. Today, as Allah has planned it, I am living in that very same country, and I am about to give my side of Saudi Arabia that is not so often heard.

Nobody is saying that it is perfect here, but hey, can you really tell me a place which is? I have lived in 3 continents and I have my share of complaints. In the end, I believe that if you have come so close to what your heart is really after, the rest will fall in its places.

I've been disconnected from the world for a long period of time now, a phase I strongly believe, was Allah at work, so that I will not be distracted from with my mission (intention). I have done everything in my power to resume connections, but all failed. 10 months is a long time to be away from something that I could barely leave even for a day before. However, the last 10 months must have been the most beautiful 10 months in my life, up to now.

During the past 10 months, I studied Arabic, memorized surahs of the Holy Quran, learned the religion and met so many wonderful sisters. Alone the past 10 months, most of my prayers have been answered...and more. The most amazing thing must be the fact that I can truly be myself again. I can be who I am, and be a Muslim too, without contradicting each other. I'm finally allowed to be my crazy-perky self again minus the guilt. After 5 years, I am picking up my favourite clothes to wear from the tax-free boutiques here, (shopping here is great, but that is a topic for another day!) short sleeve blouses, designer jeans, bead necklaces, fancy earrings and the list goes on. Goodbye ugly long skirts, oversized blouses and frimsy hejabs!

If your heart seeks it, being a muslim here is the easiest thing to do, because there is support from everywhere. Private apartments or villas with segregation for men and women, a special family section at restaurants, private Istirihahs, activities, schools and events for ladies only, and so on so forth. Now when someone says a muslim should'nt be wearing this or that, I will say, Yes we can! In the proper places, in front of our mahram and other women! This is the liberation that I was looking for all of my life as being a muslimah. I was looking for consolation for myself, because I felt deprived from the things that I am and the things that I want to be. I'm finally able to concile my two worlds. I believe many sisters who are already wearing the hejab, or thinking about it feels the same way I do. Putting the hejab means compromising the person that you are, albeit it being superficial or not. Changing the way we look, does take a lot of guts. However, no one can deny that it is fitrah of a woman to dress up, to look pretty and we love pretty things.

My 4 year old daughter is a testament of that. I thought that it was my responsibility to monitor her growing passion for dressing up. I even detested her ears being pierced in the beginning because I don't want her to be consumed with the idea of beauty or beautification. It is a facade, after all isn't it? I was so wrong. Binti is developing on her own, and soon, pretty pink shirts, with flowers, ribbons, butterflies and skirts, braided hair with cute clips became her thing. The thing that she adamantly stood firmly for. The thing that differentiates her from her brother.

I've always been inspired by reverts and I am further consoled by the fact that there are so many muslims from the West who chosed to live here for Islam, and Islam alone. Being new muslims, they find the challenges of the West overwhelming and distracting for their new found faith. They left their countries and well paying jobs, to move here so that they and their family can practise Islam freely and correctly. Born muslims, like me on the other hand, just grew up accepting the environment without asking or looking for change (to fit an Islamic lifestyle).

I am in love with all the sisters that I know here. They are the epitomy of strength, faith, perseverance and patience. I love that I can be around them to just have fun, and the fact we are all on the same road, gave us a wide range of topics to talk about, despite our backgrounds and nationalities. I find Islam beautiful that way. I don't need to prove myself anymore, or to explain why I am different, it is exhausting to always have to be on your feet when an ignorant challenges Islam. I never regretted defending Islam (even though I'm never good at it) but I believe it is as neccessary for me to live Islam to the fullest I can or else, I will just be preaching ideas, not experiences.

Now no matter what people say about Saudi Arabia, I can defend that because I have lived here, and reaped the benefits from it. I can finally say that I am happy, because my heart is so content and I will continue to seek His knowledge for as long as I can. Inshaallah.

Spirituality I now concede comes hand in hand with practice, and the environment is really the Big Brother. As of immediate effect, we want to let go of our house as badly as we had wanted it in the first place. I don't need to live with non-muslims who don't respect my faith, because this is after all a free world. I can choose. I had chosen a house with full open living room-dining-kitchen concept and now regretted it. I cannot invite my beloved sisters and their husband in my house because of the non-segregrational environment. Once I put up curtains in the dining area and created a whole new living room there just to be able to host a dear sister and her family.

I am moving out. May the next place be the Home that will see us through our ongoing journeys with Islam and foster our relationships with practicing muslims in this country. Ameen.

Footnote > I realise now that I was stucked in the phase that I was with hejab because I did'nt look or know any further. I thought that was it and I was suppose to live as a muslimah that way, but alhamdulillah Allah showed me the right way. I realize if I had looked, I will probably have found those sisters anywhere, and I could have asked them, but I didn't. Glory be to Allah. Allah Akhbar.

Veiled Passion

2008-03-30T09:08:00.012+03:00

I have not been keeping tabs on whats going on in web world, and sadly, that also includes not being able to be a good internet friend. However, I'm only phonecall or an sms away ye :)

Truth is, I'm having a lot of fun here in KSA. The black abayas and limited movements does not deter a girl's (let me use this term liberally) will to have fun! I have been attending school for over a month and mashaallah, enjoying every moment of it. School is at Dar Ad'Dhikir, a dakwah division initiative for Non-Arabic Speaking Muslimahs. I spend 3 weekdays a week, 4 hours each day. Those hours are divided into 3 sessions, and in a day I could be learning (Higher) Arabic Language, Quran (Hafaz), Reading, or Islamic Studies, depending on the level I'm in. I thoroughly enjoy my Arabic classes which is very intensive, but interesting and fun. My favourite class of all is Quran sessions as I learn not only to read properly, but the objective of the class is to memorize the Quran. At level 2, I'm currently in Juz Amma and during the past few weeks have managed to learn at least 5 surahs by heart. It is not an easy task, and a task I may never attempt if it was not a requirement of the school. But Alhamdulillah, the joy is certainly the sweet reward at the end of it. Now I have become obsessed with being the best at it in my class, but yesterday though, I succumbed to pressure and broke down because I cannot recite the last 2 ayahs of Surah Baiyyinah. I love reading the Quran, especially at Dar Ad'Dhikir because my teacher, Fatwa, has a beautiful voice which mashaallah is so enticing that makes a regular Quran session feels like a good karaoke session! And since singing is a passion, this new activity really literally fills my soul. I was having a hard time at the Arabic class initially because I never had a formal education on how to write (arabic). My handwritings was kinda like a 1st grader attempting to write alphabets. It has improved tremendously but I do feel like I'm picking up new small motor skills! These improvements will not be possible if not for the positive attitude of the school and the tremendous efforts on the teacher's part. They made sure we attend school, deducting marks if we are late or absent and collecting 'fines' if we were to speak in another language other than Arabic. Discipline and seriousness is rare in an Islamic organization, but I am so proud to be part of this successful institution. The institution also serves as an important door for non-arab muslimahs to connect to other Islamic-related activities. Recently there was a talk by the very popular priest-turned-muslim lecturer, Yusuf Estes from United States, and another workshop for Hejab at the World Assembly of Muslim Youth. Alhamdulillah. I love being busy, I love being swamped with activities, and I love be part of a group that just wants to serve Allah and are having debates and discussions on how to be better everyday. That is what I am here for, and this country has all that and even more...

When I said 'more', I mean...really literally more than I can handle. I've never questioned the school of thoughts, and accepted being a Sunni Muslim from the Shafie mahzab from the day I was born. My move to this country triggered what was not a curiosity to me in the first place. I met and am friends with someone from my own country who decided to 'convert' to another non-sunni mahzab. And then in hejab lectures, I am faced with new confrontations and different ideals of being a muslimah. What hejab means to some school of thoughts raises questions on my own passion about hejab and my work-in-progress effort, the Hejab Site that I was planning to launch. In school, we are required to come/leave with a full niqaab (veil), and it was a struggle at first to put it on simply because I was not used to it. The idea of it (niqaab/veil) was something that I thought as individualistic, yet emphasized here as a religious requirement. I am still seeking the truth and may Allah guide me to it soon.

And then the irony of it all, what happens when I leave the country, for holidays or for good, do I want to discard the Abaya and jilbab because I will look like an oppressed wife of a terrorist eventhough I feel that it is the proper and most fitting dressing for a muslimah? I shall leave that thought for another day of blogging, inshaallah...

And before I forget, I wanna thank Elisa for dropping by for breakfast and for meeting up for a quick bite at the mall last weekend. I really had a great time, and what a wonderful warm person you are, and I love your kids! Hope to see u soon in Khobar plak.

Take care !

Salam

Wonderful moms remembered...

2008-03-23T23:47:00.004+03:00

Just when I thought this break is good and healthy, I had to receive a bad news via msn which of course, i did'nt get to open until today, almost a month too late. The mother of my good friend R, passed away of Renal failure. I don't even know what that is at this moment, but the last time I visited R's mom, she was not in a good shape. She already had kidney failure, which caused her to lose both her legs and she has already given up on life long before she passes on.

Inalillahwainalillahrojeeun. I'm dying to call R now, but its almost midnight, and she is probably somewhere in China. I know R don't come here, but I want so badly to tell her how sorry I am for not being there for her at the time when she lost the person she loves most. Of all her siblings, R is is the only one who is supporting her mom and paying the medical bills. Oh Allah, grant R patience and strength to go through a difficult period in her life, and please bless the soul of Arwah Makcik and place her amongst the people that you love. She was a good lady with a wonderful heart, her life was difficult, nevertheless, she is one of the kindest. When she was happy, she made others happy. When I was homeless, she gives me shelter and treats me like one of her daughters. She loved me like her own. May her soul rest in peace.

Just 2 years ago, it was Lilah's mother, my other best friend, who lost her mom to cancer. It was a whirlwind situation and before I can suprise Lilah and her mom at the hospital, I received a call from Lilah and received the sad news. Lilah's mom, like R's mom, ironically, share the same life story. The storyline maybe different, but the ending is the same. Both were mistreated by their husbands, struggled to bring up their kids on a low paying job. I knew both Lilah and R in high school, but separately. Separately I have had good times with each of them, visited their homes, and have a wonderful relationship with them up till now. Through all life's ordeals, somehow, we always reconnected and stayed in touch. Lilah is in Qatar now restarting life afresh with a new job and last I heard, R is in China, after having the chance to live and work in Dubai, Jakarta, Thailand, and many other interesting places. Both are still looking for that man of their dreams, the one who will embrace them, accept them for what they are, and who will continually fill their lonely hearts with happiness. I constantly pray for them, wishing for them the same thing that I have for myself, a good husband and a wonderful family life. It is sometimes hard to see them going through break ups that I have already fore casted as failures, but they insist that was the right one. How to tell your best friend that they are making wrong choices when you have to keep all your life's details to yourself because you don't want to make them feel left out if you squabble about your children's first day at school, or when they made a significant progress and you know other moms will appreciate it. But I love them both like my sisters, and may Allah protect them and keep them in His path, inshaallah, Ameen.

I wish I know how to put this eloquently...
I heard somewhere that Allah sends us tribulations in life to test us and to reward us. All the life's trials are but His way of relieving us of pain in the hereafter, should we be patient and go through it. Because if we were to just meet him with our deeds, it will never be sufficient... ( i hope i made sense..)

To 2 wonderful moms, rest in peace, and may Allah bless your souls for your kindness and patience in this life...

Give me my internet!!!

2008-01-22T12:49:00.000+03:00

It's been a few frustrating weeks trying to get connected. Yeah, big mouth me announced I had a mobile modem, and in just over a week, that modem got damaged through our recklessness, and then disappeared... (Must be due to Hasad! The arabs would say...)The first week was desperate attempts trying to get it repaired. Then followed by weeks of accessing other possibilities..in between these, my handphone is out of order courtesy of dear Ibni.. who tried first to drown my poor phone into the swimming pool at a hotel in jeddah and then drop it on the floor ... then maybe, we can buy a phone that works as a modem as well. wah... we were never so tech-y! but in the end, i might share my neighbor's dsl ... and split the price. meanwhile im at another hotel in jeddah, not so cool. they dont have free wireless internet. boring.

anyway, just a note to say that im still alive, still around..still kicking..cooking... and losing hair because of the kids. other than that, im happy. so much to update really, but i cannot use up my 3 hours internet on blogging..so i have to go. i hope all is well with all of you.. happy new year.. i didnt even notice it passed...

And so finally...

2007-12-02T13:14:00.000+03:00

I got my internet!!! Almost 2 months after being here, but hey, better late than never people say eh? And the best part is that we got a wireless... which means, I can bring it with me practically anywhere I go, inside Saudi (outside also can, but must pay for usage lah) as the aircard connects through a regular phone SIM card. So now no need to kecek my neighbour for her broadband connection already...hehe..though she has offered her passwords and all..takpelah..

Neways, Haj seasons is coming. Haj for me? Whoaaaa.. no wait wait. Habibi badly wants to go. I'm not ready and what about the children.. how la? Perhaps next year, I hope I'll be more ready spiritually for that big step. Unfortunately Habibi has a conference in Dubai, so he won't be doing Haj this year...and we're going to Dubai with him..yeayness (seelah, tak baik,..kalau Dubai yeayness, kalau Haj, tak nak pergi pulak!)

And then, came that Guy! Oh my, I just drool everytime he comes come. Tall, big, muscular and very handsome (to me lah). He's my dream boy... and he is here now. Thank God for this boy, and for cheap petrol here in Saudi... we can afford to bring this baby home. Alhamdulillah.

Actually I have nothing much to update. The blogging bug has left me kot? Furthermore I do have to update my children's blogs too... Perhaps knowing more people here and knowing that there is so much I can do keep me excited now. I can't wait for February when my classes start. Inshaallah...

Selamat Hari Raya Haji in advance..in case I don't come back in a long while..

salam

Reflections in Riyadh

2007-11-17T10:11:00.000+03:00

Alhamdulillah, after one month I finally got hold of an internet connection again, but not at home. Well, things here, as we quickly find out, don't get done as soon as we'd like it to be. We are now in Jeddah again as Habibi has work to do, and since schools are closed for OPEC meetings in Riyadh, we could tag along.

Since the last time I blogged, we are now settled in a decent place we could call home. We moved on the night of Eid, and was still shopping for our bedroom sets that night when it (eid) was announced. Our living and dining room furnitures only came 2 weeks later and now, we are good to hang out in Riyadh for the next few years. We're not sure either if this is IT or perhaps we will move to another bigger compound next year if there is availability. Villas in compounds in Riyadh are as rare as belacan these days. Alhamdulillah, I have great neighbours in our small compound of 6 individual villas. Only 5 are occupied at the moment but one of them is almost technically non-existent as the couple seems to be shuttling around the world and their house in Cyprus. My next door neighbour is a very chirpy interesting and beautiful Lebanese lady and her family who also like me, just came to Riyadh. Although Nihad has lived here before, it is still hard for her to adapt to life here with her children. The old german man, Hans who lives opposite us comes over often for a cup of coffee with Nihad in the morning and shares her passion for playing piano. I get a lot of inspiration from my new friend/neighbour Nihad who is always bubbly and optimistic. We talked about everything and we used our sons who happened to be of the same age, as an excuse to sit at the front porch and chat. We invited all the neighbours over to our place just last week and had a great time getting to know each other and the men exchanging opinions about working in Riyadh.

Just yesterday, I had a brilliant idea that I'd like to work on during my time here in Riyadh. Of course aside from my husband, Nihad is my new confidante who gives me confidence and ideas to work on my new little project. Afterall, I took up her advice about making money here because as she puts it..."If you have something or a skill to sell, you can make money here". SO why not... I thought. I promise I will talk more about the project once it becomes more than just an idea.

I've also seen positive changes in myself since moving here. No longer depressed, I'm a happier person in the morning too. Binti is finally in a school that I'd like her to be in, international curriculum but Islamic based, with arabic as 2nd language. Perfect. What else can I ask for for the little girl. (only that she finishes her homework!) Alhamdulillah. Ibni is happy hanging out with his next door Buddy, Ziyad.

Not long afterwards, I meet a group of Malaysian families all at once in an open house held on the rooftop of their apartment. It was like being in Malaysia right in Riyadh, amazing. The aroma of rendang, satay, soto, lodeh were wonderfully mixing like a magic potion in the cool breeze. I couldn't possibly get to know everybody on this day and my habibi ended up babysitting the kiddos while I do my social networking. A week later, I was invited to join the ladies in a religious class they hold every Friday at the apartment building. Alhamdulillah, Allah is most generous with me. I really love spending my time with friends learning and discovering new things together.

As if this isn't enough good news ... my childhood friend Lilah got a job in Qatar and now based in Doha, which is not that far away now. Mashaallah , how Allah plans.

I reflected on these gifts from Him and how timely it was. Subhanallah. If I were to come to Riyadh immediately after marriage, I would not have liked it. I would have hated being in the Black Abayya or confined in my house. But Allah is so Great. He sent me instead to Europe where I could be anything and do anything, yet I was stucked and fell depressed because I had to be dependent on my husband (language factor). I also couldn't move by myself as I can't drive in Europe so I had to depend on friendsto go out. As a result, I did not get myself adapted going out with the 2 children by myself. Coming here, nothing much has changed in that aspect, and I am fine with that. However, the perks now includes having to just call for groceries, food, maintenance and not having to leave the house. If I were to wear the abayya 5 years ago, I would have hated it, call it an Oppression and will be telling bad things to people who expects me to spill it and have them nodding their heads going 'See lah, this muslim country, what they do to their women, etc etc...' However, I really love the Abayyah much to the disappointment of Hans who cannot believe what I just said. I feel I could be free wearing anything underneath and when I go out, I'm happy to confine with Allah's laws. He didn't understand why I have to run in and get my hejab if I find him within the compound on a weekday afternoon. He told me not to worry and that he doesn't mind. It didn't take much guts to tell Hans that 'I know you don't mind, but I DO'. Hans don't seem to want to elaborate or discuss further, preferring instead to chat with Nihad, so I usually leave them alone. Since I donned the abayya, I have much interest to look better inside the house, now I'm already thinking of having my hair permed and henna-dyed. I got better clothes and flaunt them around the privacy of my house. No more crummy old bleached out t-shirts which sometimes have holes in them to wear around the house. You really can't stop a woman from wanting to be beautiful, and finally, I want to look beautiful for MYSELF. It's great to look great for myself and for my family and not the other way around (public). With less concentration on what to wear when I go out of the house, I concentrated instead what I should be wearing INSIDE the house. IT just feels great. Of course, Habibi is liking the change in me, always referring to Germany as our incubator. It amazes me that even after 5 years of wearing the Hejab, I keep discovering new things about it. (Hence my keen desire to work on the Hejab site, as soon as I collect enough funds for it).

We passed Makkah again last night but to pray Maghrib/Isha and also did tawaf with our kids around the kaa'bah. The kids gets to touch and kissed the Holy Kaabah. After prayers, we just hanged out around the circumference of the kaabah while the kids were happily playing, running and lying on on the marble floors of the Grand Masjid'il Haraam.

So far so good Riyadh. Early next year, I will have myself enrolled in a school to learn Arabic and religion and this will take most of my time away, inshaallah. Alhamdulillah, I am on the road to doing the things I wanted to do if I come to a muslim country. My prayers were accepted, Allah Akhbar, ALhamdulillahirabeelalameen. Allah is great. It took a few years before it was accepted, but those few years were very important so as we see the beauty of this present gift. He is the Best Planner, Subhanallah.

Allah, I am always humbled by your generousity and mercy on me. I am thankful with every beat of my heart. I know that with all these gifts that you bestowed on me, I have a duty to fulfil, and I pray to you O Allah, give me strength to fulfil them. Give me patience and have mercy on all of us when we face difficulties.

Eid Mubarak.

2007-10-10T11:29:00.000+03:00

Selamat Hari Raya,
Maaf Zahir dan Batin

(sorry it has to be a short one, I'm running out of Internet time)

The first Invitation

2007-10-02T11:01:00.000+03:00

Umrah is a great act of worship that is obligatory upon every Muslim once in his life. The rewards and virtues of performing umrah are many, the Prophet (s) mentioned is a hadith, “Between one umrah and another is an expiation of sins”. Performing Umrah in the month of Ramadan has a special significance, the Prophet (s) said, “Whoever performs Umrah in Ramadan, receives the reward like one who performs Hajj with me.”

http://www.hajjandumrahtours.co.uk/umrahhow.htm

It was afterall, Habibi's business trip to Jeddah. We came along because I can't bear the thought of him driving for 10hours back and forth alone. Flights are all full at this time. And having been recently reunited (4 days to be exact) after almost 3 months of separation, I seriously don't think we can go through another one so soon.

It was an almost instantaneous decision as I had earlier wanted to stay to make sure we secure the deal for a new house. But I chickened out when Habibi returned from work and said he had to leave immediately. We packed whatever we could, and drove all the way to Jeddah.

At around subh time, we passed by Al-Taif, the station for Ihram. I hesitated to prepare myself as I was still dead tired from the trip. We moved on and passed by the holy land of Makkah to Jeddah. We spent one night and Jeddah and finally decided prepare ourselves for a visit to the Kaa'bah. There was no way I could have avoided it. We were already too close and will be driving through it. We drove close enough and then unloaded our important things and took a chartered car that drove us to Masjidil Haraam.

As I walked into an underground, I was unsure of what to expect. Very nervous, scared even, in case that I'll do something offensive without realising. Coming out of the underground, I saw even more people in their Ihram garb. Habibi told me to turn around, and there behind me, stood the majestic Masjidil Haraam. It was such a beautiful sight, and I was definitely intimidated.

With both kids with us, it was nearly impossible to perform umrah together, although I wanted very much to make my first Umrah with habibi. Habibi waited outside the mosque with the kids. Alhamdulillah Ibni was taking his afternoon nap, so it was just Habibi with Binti. I left them with mixed feelings. I wasn't sure what to do next or where to find the Kaa'bah or the mountains of Safa and Marwa. I have no idea what to expect, I'm definitely unprepared. Habibi briefed me quickly on what to do, and I brought along with me 2 pcs of paper where I have scribbled my notes that I had earlier written down (from an internet site) at the hotel in Jeddah. I never thought that my first umrah would be a journey I'll be making all by myself.

I made my small steps towards Masjidil Haraam with the pair of cheap slippers Habibi had bought earlier. He said that footwears can get stolen, so it was better to have cheap ones since afterall, I'll have to leave it at the entrance of the mosque for a couple of hours. Upon entering the mosque, I prayed jama' Zuhr and Asr, 2 rakaats sunnah and then walked deep into the mosque to look for the gem. It was not hard to find since throngs of people are walking towards the centre of the mosque. Habibi reminded me earlier to ask for anything from Allah upon seeing the Kaabah for the first time - he said, the doa will be answered by Allah, inshaallah. As I walked towards the centre of the mosque, I feel my steps getting quicker and my heartbeat was fast as well. I saw the Kaabah between the pillars of the mosque and quickly made a silent prayer. I have no words to explain what I must have felt, but it was very emotional. I was almost choked with tears of joy upon seeing the beloved Ka'abah that I only prayed to all these while. The more I walked, the more I was hypnotized, felt as if I was floating towards to it. My worst fear was unfounded, Alhamdulillah and I praise Allah for letting me see his Ka'abah. I feel blessed to receive His invitation, at the same time very worried that I'm less than ready for it.

Coincidently, it was the 15th day of ramadhan and so it was pretty crowded. Right under the scorching midday desert sun, I looked out for the Black Stone where I should start my Tawaaf. It was not hard to find as soon I realise the tawaaf slows down everytime we pass by the stone as many jemaah tries to kiss and touch it. I wanted to touch it too, and tried to penetrate into the thickness of the crowd, but it was quite impossible and most of them are men, so I decided to go without and sneak out to the outer rim of the circle of human chain. I was alone, but I was not alone. I was walking side by side with fellow muslims from all over the world. Under Allah's eyes, I am just like them. A different color, a different language, but that does not divide us here in Allah's land. I prayed two rakaat's at Maqam Ibrahim after the tawaaf and headed to find Safa & Marwa for Sai'. As it was Ramadhan, I had to skip the part of drinking ZamZam, but I did pour some over my hejab and my face to cool down and to refresh myself.

Perhaps non-muslims or even muslims must find it amusing that we have to walk from mountain to mountain and then back again 7 times. I did too, but that thought was quickly replaced by humility after remembering the history and event. It was here that I realised that this journey can only performed with complete faith and believing in the wisdom of our Creator. I walked and did zikr, although sometimes my thoughts were with my children who must be uncomfortable waiting out there for me for very long. I saw the clock and it took me almost an hour to complete the sai'. After the exit at Marwa, I tried to find my way back to my beloved family but got a little lost. I also don't know where to find my slippers which I had earlier left at a pillar near the entrance. The heat was burning the grounds and I tried to withstand it. It was much easier walking on cemented grounds than on marble with that temperature. I went back into the mosque and tried to find the exit by walking from inside the mosque. It was quite a long journey but alhamdulillah, I managed to find the place where I left my family. Just before I came out, I visited the Zam Zam taps again to freshen up, and found a plastic cup on the floor. I picked up the cup and filled it with Zam Zam to bring to my children. Habibi decided to perform Umrah later that evening since it was quite late and it will be time for Iftar soon. We were also running out of cash so we had to check in into a cheap hotel to stay overnight. Alhamdulillah, what we had was enough to cover our expenses, our iftar, our petrol for the way back to Riyadh. This in itself was an irony since we were staying in a posh hotel and ate lavishly for iftar just the day before in Jeddah.

Habibi left us after Iftar and performed his 2nd umrah since he came to Saudi Arabia. Alhamdulillah.

I knew that coming here was great because we are able to do Umrah as often as we like, but I never expected it to be so soon. I'm still overwhelmed by the whole experience, and I'm still nervous at the thought of the next one.

This ramadhan may have been difficult for us being still 'homeless' at this point, being separated for awhile and still uncertain of what will happen next, but it must be the best Ramadhan of all because His invitation makes it all worthwhile.

Alhamdulillahirabbeelalameen...
ALLAH AKHBAR
ALLAH AKHBAR
ALLAH AKHBAR

A New Chapter in Saudi Arabia

2007-09-27T00:07:00.000+03:00

Finally. After almost 3 months of separation with dear husband, I finally got myself on a waiting list to Riyadh. Flights are almost impossible being the month of Ramadhan. Alhamdulillah, I got the flight and flew immediately. The goodbyes were short and hasty. But it was time and I wanted to go, and I know the kids felt the same way.

So far, I'm happy to say that I feel almost at home in this new place. Seeing so many asians here gives a sense of comfort and familiarity. The rest of it became familiar since I married my Pharoan habibi. In a way, it's like getting the best of both worlds for us. He can now speak arabic at work and outside, and I can speak english or indonesian when I need something on my own. Alhamdulillah, so far so good. I didn't expect to fall in love with Saudia so quickly, but it was hard not to. I love putting on my black Abayya because 1. I don't have to think about what to wear to go out. 2. I won't have anymore debates with habibi if my skirt or blouse is too tight. Now both of us are happy!

The clean and organized malls reminds me too much of Singapore and the oriental treasures here are in much better quality than those in Khan El-Halili. I'm sure it will be pretty easy to fill up a 8-room villa in no time. However, since we are still putting up in a hotel and have not found a decent place yet, I have to halt those retail intentions. Food, aaahhh.. Don't let me get started for this one. The first few days, my iftar was Lebanese, Indian, Saudi and today Egyptian. It's not that bad that I have didn't have any place for belachan, chilli kering and ikan bilis this time!

Just after 4 days, habibi has to travel for work to Jeddah. The thought of him driving alone for 10hours and being away from him that long is unbearable, so we decided to come along. And wala, this hotel has free Wi-fi internet connection! yeay!

Nobody knows whats going to happen next. We'll take one day at a time...Inshaallah

City Not for Children

2007-09-09T23:04:00.000+03:00

It has been slightly more than 2 months. And I'm still here. I should be grateful that I'm here instead of being stuck in Germany waiting. There was also the flood that came unexpectedly that destroyed that part of Germany I was living in. People are still talking about how the flood costed them their automobiles, houses, gardens, buildings, etc. It feels surreal since I lived there for almost five years and have not experienced a calamity of that magnitude. However, I must be thankful that I'm in Singapore at this time with my children and we are all safe in His hands, alhamdulillah.

Singapore is not a bed of roses either. The family is great, just being around familiarity is great. I feel most productive around here and immediately created something for me to do. However, being a parent here is another challenge altogether. As I became a mother in Germany, I have gotten used to many convenience there without realising. Coming back here and having to deal with a hasty and self'centred community is without a doubt, the most stressful thing that I have to go through. Just 2 years back, my eldest daughter was facing flat in a children's swimming pool because of a friend's negligience for the longest 10 seconds or so of my life, and no one lifted a finger to help her out even if the nearest person in the pool is less than an armstretch away. And just to prove that this is not just a rare case or misjudegement on my part, history decided to repeat itself with my son this time when he ran away from me and jumped inside the SAME children's pool. And again, the nearest man in the pool just glanced over my boy's body without any intention to help. I was running as fast as I could to save my dear son on the slippery surface of the mosaic tiles, but I can never forget the face that could give a double take at me and at my boy without even trying to help. Exasperated and dissapointed, I had to tell that man off regrettably after pulling my son's wriggling body off the water, "What if that was your son?". He gave me a point blank look.

There were many other instances. Pushing prams in this crowded city is another test fit for the a new series to be titled "Survivor Series for Moms". I realised in this city, if you are a mother with whatever number of kids, empathy is the last thing you should expect from its inhabitants. While pushing my heavy european kinderwagon in the mall, I realise people pick up speed on purpose when they are about to cross my way. Deliberately, I waited to see who would stop to give me way in a very narrow passage. Throngs of secondary school children jumped infront of me and did not bother to stop. Finally someone stopped. I looked up to the couple with amusement. Of course they stopped, they are not locals. Of course I thanked them and said "Only non-Singaporeansw will give way", and they smiled as if they understood my predicament.

Within a few weeks here, I purchased another smaller, city-friendly buggy hoping that it'll help me through the crowd and public transportations easily. Usually when I'm alone with the children, I will take the cab. But there were times when I am just with one kid, so I attempted a bus ride with Ibni in his buggy. As soon as I got up the bus, the driver snapped at me telling me to fold up the buggy. Well, I didn't because the bus moved immediately after I paid for my fare so it was not convenient to be lifting my one year old and folding buggies. I found a place near the window that I could conveniently park the buggy and stood next to it. It wasn't in the way of the main passage so I thought that would be allright until my stop, which is less than 5. The bus driver was not happy. He made it very clear. He made a call on his walkie talkie and complained about "a woman with her baby" in Mandarin. Unfortunately for him, I can understand fairly bit of Mandarin and the glances and stares from the other passengers in the bus was too obvious to ignore. I looked up at the ads in the bus for any signs or warnings about bringing buggies up in the bus, but saw none. I am convinced I wasn't breaking any law or deserved any fine(s). I was just irritating him because I did not fold up my buggy. I bet he was thinking of my safety and my child's when he stupidly gave that order. I called up the Singapore Bus Services customer service and lodged a complain. How can the Singapore goverment expects families to have more kids when travelling with them is such a nightmare? Being humiliated by a bus driver infront of passengers is not my idea of a smooth bus ride.

Oh it didn't end yet. The last place on earth that I would expect a horrible treatment to mothers and children would have to stop at the mosque. Again I brought my son to the mosque to attend a talk by an ulama from United States at the Masjid Aleem Sidiqque in Telok Kurau Lorong K. In an email that I got, it states that the talk will start at 7.30pm. However, this was not so. The talk started very late, it was at least 9.00pm when it started. The audio was very bad on the women's side and we almost couldn't hear anything, it didn't help that the ulama is pretty soft spoken. Ibni wasn't even crying but merely making some baby talks, like he was doing since we were there. But suddenly when the talk starts, almost everyone synchronized a loud "SSSSHHHHHHH" at him and at any children making noises. They also turned around in a very deliberate way to make mothers even more uncomfortable everytime a child is heard. Instead of asking the mosque management to turn up the volume (it was at 2, and the maximum was like 40..? ) of the lcd tv hanging over the room, they asked instead for the impossible - for children to hush up. One lady did not have any patience for children it seems, as I was nervously unbuttoning trying to quiet ibni down (who seems to be in a talkative mood that evening) by feeding him, she simply told me to bring him outside. At that point, I must have lost all my patience with inconsiderate and unsympathetic children haters and said "Can you be a little bit patient? He is a child. And even the Prophet Muhammad (saw) was kind and understanding to children!". With that remark, she moved elsewhere and I never saw her again for the next few hours. I am at the mosque for the first time since I here but the experience was bitter and needless to say, I may have to stay away from the mosque if I'm with my kids. So mothers and children could never visit mosques? Why does being a mother feels like a punishment?

What have become of our society? Why the lack of tolerance? Where is the compassion? It saddens me to think that total strangers were more willing to help a hejabi with her children, lifting up the prams inside the train or carrying it for me when I meet a flight of staircase in a foreign land where I always get understanding glances instead of accusitive ones. In fact, I never felt more accepted in Germany than I when I was without them (the children). With my children around me, I connect easily with other parents, break into a conversation and am happy when strangers play with my children or when they stop to admire them for their skin colour. My kids are also used to getting freebies and sweets at restaurants and shops when I pay them a visit. Binti will always get a free banana when I make my purchases at the vegetable vendor near our house in Forchheim. We have had our neighbours trusting us with their kids in our houses eventhough we just met. They are always time to exchange greetings everytime you meet and part.

It's strange when you have to say, you're a stranger in your own land, eh?

The transit...

2007-08-13T18:04:00.000+03:00

Still waiting. Still in Singapore. There is a hikmah behind everything.
Alhamdulillah shukur to Allah who made this happen.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5iLDVnuudrc

More info at http://rantauan.com

20.07.2007 [30 and Happy!]

2007-07-20T19:04:00.000+03:00

I just turned 30 today on the 20.07.2007. What a beautiful date to remember the new Big change in my life I guess. But frankly, I don't feel any different, I was expecting some big reflection time, feelings of guilt, or whatever that makes one feel 30. But I am the same. However, this day IS Special, not only because of the numeral coincidence, but because I feel so touched and humbled by the gestures of my family and friends.

Habibi is not here to celebrate this birthday with me, but I think that was for the best. I just can imagine him having a ball mocking at me for entering "the club". The parting gift that was meant for my 30th birthday was the most precious thing I ever received in my life. Thank you darling. Thanks for spoiling me, your very naughty wify.

I woke up and was greeted with so many birthday greetings from all over the world at Rantauan.com of course. Thank you Kak Teh for remembering my birthday. It is exactly 4 years ago that we met in the same month in London and watch Raihan in concert.

This morning I was invited for a nice breakfast at Ya Kun Kaya by our dear Mak Buyung a.k.a Nazrah in WhiteSands, Pasir Ris. Thank you Naz, I had a great time this morning, chatting and catching up with you. Rasa macam tak puas je, but inshaallah we will catch up again. And I"ll bring some airsickness bags along. hehe. Thanks for the present, its lovely, and i love it.

Then, my old friend gave me a shock of my life. We were having some disputes over the week about communications and confirming appointments. I am too tired to explain now...however, she surprised me with a hamper of my favourite home-made sardine curry puff self-delivered to my doorstep. And she lives in the other end of Singapore. Her mother made the puffs and her dad sent her to my place. I am so touched.

My other old friend bought me a huge Esprit Bag yesterday, so now both of us have the same one. It is so practical for Mommies!

At home, Mak gave me ang pow, hugs and kisses. Thank you Mak. Around her, I"m not 20, 30 or 40, but just a child who is so grateful for a kind soul like her.

Ibu gave me a treat to a wonderful meal at Kampung Chai Chee Seafood Restaurant that had me unbuttoning my pants. The whole family was there. Including my new cousin-angkat, Beatrice - my cousin's best friend. It was so fun. Food was fantastic.

The last surprise came after we came back from dinner. Lina & Amran sent me a birthday cake but since we were out, it was delivered later. My last present before the clock strikes 12mn tonight, and the birthday is over.

What a wonderful gift from Allah that I receive today for my 30th birthday. All my family, my friends, wonderful gestures, kind thoughts, warm wishes. Mashaallah, I am so blessed.

Thank you Allah. Please help me. Protect me, and don"t ever let me stray from your path. Keep my family and friends safe and healthy, keep the love and the bond between us strong forever. Help us become better for you.
Ameen.

The last few hours

2007-06-27T10:10:00.000+03:00

These are my last few hours in Germany, Europe. Will I miss Germany? I have no idea, coz I'm not one who hangs on things. I am thankful though, because Germany has seen me growing up. From a young clueless wife, to an even more clueless mother. Both kids were born here, so I guess I will have a lifetime telling them stories about Germany, the country where they were born in.

It has done me much good. What I thought was bad about it, was actually the very thing that saved me internally. Without family and friends, I learnt to stand on my own two feet. I learnt that running away does not solve problems. I learnt to be calmer (can do much better) but above all, I became inseparable with my family. Relationships with family back home also became much better, alhamdulillah.

I learnt a lot here. I really grew up here.

Thank you Allah for the opportunity, for the awakening.

Tcheuss Deutschland!

2007-06-21T07:20:00.001+03:00

It's only in a matter of days.

Habibi pointed out that yesterday was my last Wednesday in Germany. And today will be my last Thursday, and so on so forth, until my next flight to Singapore for a short interval before we finally meet again in... Riyadh, KSA inshaallah. We are hoping that the separation would be maximum of 2 months, but we have heard cases that stretches up to 6months (visa & protocols issues).

But I'm finally leaving. I can't believe that this is even possible. Actually, even at this point where my whole living room is half-filled with cartons, my luggages almost done, I didn't let myself believe it. The contract is lucrative, (which means more savings inshaallah), the benefits are wonderful, but the thought of being able to perform Umrah as often as we like, is of course, undisputably, the best deal of all.

All praises be upon Allah, who have heard our prayers, who have graciously answered it - with a series of tests and dissapointments notwithstanding, but only for us to check on our own endurance and perseverance, and most importantly, our Faith in Him.

For about 2 years, our lives were in uncertainty. The kids are growing quickly, much too quickly in fact. I worry about Binti's development. I've seen how she's been shuffed to the side by neighbour's kids who are not willing to play with her because she does not understand their language. She is so in need of social contacts and I meet my friends at the rate of once a month. We decided not to put her through the playgroups here as we were unsure how long we are going to be here still. And with already 3 languages between us, I really don't wish to add another one. When Ibni came, everything seems to take up speed. Kakak was more in need of attention that she ever was. My house load obviously increased, and so was my impatience and depression. I couldn't take it much longer. It is damn HARD for someone who never lifted one dirty laundry of hers in all her lifetime (thanks to maids, and laundry services), so I'll not pretend that I'm a great Stepford wife. Juggling between breakfast through dinner, cleaning, feeding, cleaning again...was very close to driving me crazy. The kids, they both need me but I seem to be busy being a cinderella to give sometime to read a book, to play a game or to just be there for them. It wasn't fair for them, or To ME!

Of course Habibi realises this, the sweetheard that he is, but telling him all this will just make him feel worst. He was already trying hard to make our situation better. There were countless interviews, some offers, but the biggest sacrifice is of course, switching his career at this time of his life. He loves his job, he does well too. At the recent meeting with the Delegation officer, he was surprised that Habibi is already way ahead in his career for his age. That was a proud moment for me **gloat gloat**. But though he is good in his profession, he has to leave it in order for us to leave. That means, getting a job in marketing & sales. Of course that was not easy with no prior experience with the company, hence why we were in limbo for a long time.

There was also a very close shave deal with homeland. I was excited, told everybody I knew and then it was as close as it gets, and left us, or me, dumbfounded. I let it go, not so easily, but I knew in my hearts of hearts that I wanted the best for the family. I knew Singapore was a great distraction for me. I was afraid that I'll not juggle my roles well in the familiar settings where I have much too much to do, too many people to meet and convenience at my disposal. And so when the offer didnt materialise, we braced ourselves for the days ahead, and I bear the pain of not being able to be with my family for a longer time.

Habibi stopped telling me about interviews and job offers in order not to get me hyped up or over excited then fall into depression.

And then Riyadh came. At the most unusual time at that. When our kids were in hospital for 10days. Those 10 days were probably the most horrible days for us emotionally, physically draining with the lack of sleep and proper meals. But Allah has planned it such. Habibi called from the office while I was in the hospital with the kids saying 'I have a gigantic great news to tell you' and left me wondering the whole day. With all the things going on for us then, we have no reason to celebrate. We were pleasantly surprised of course, but decided not to believe it, so as to make things easier to let go. It is amazing we'd think that when a great news comes along, we would be jumping with joy and yoddle or call everyone we know. But that day was solemn. We hugged, I teared a little bit and praised and thanked Allah. We were soo humbled by His gift on that day.

It became more real each day, especially when Habibi went over for an orientation. Then the offers materialised. And now I have cartons and bags all over the place. I'm finally saying goodbye to Germany. Thank you Allah. Thank you for hearing our prayers. I maybe close enough to receiving this 'gift', yet I'm still scared. Scared if I may dissapoint myself and did not make good use of this time in Riyadh to do what I'm supposed to do. To keep my promise.

May Allah help me through my journey, a journey to Him. Inshaallah
Ameen, Ya Rabbana Alameen.

My entry is up lah...

2007-06-14T09:00:00.000+03:00

Since the first time I went over to "I am Muslim" writer's blog, I became smitten, and followed on each and every entry posted on "I am Muslim2" site. I then decided to share my story,

I already got a friend to get the first book for me (which I will only get when I get back to SG), but have read some of the stories online. I like it because it talks honestly about what muslims think about being muslims these days. On the other hand, because of its honesty, it makes other muslims think about what actually went wrong that we're in such a state?

Neways, you can go buy the book if you're in Malaysia, and if you're waiting for the sequel, this is a good site to start at. My entry is the latest one, (malu lak!) gi lah baca...

Di sini lerr..

Changing Lanes...

2007-06-05T01:15:00.000+03:00

Ahah! New Look. Yeay Yeay. Not that it's so cantik, but oklah, will do. I just needed a new look to start on my new journey and my new blogging direction! I looked at my previous entries and I thought, I don't have an objective for my writings! Basically they are just lame episodes of my life, ups and downs and the boring everyday stuff. That's why I had no interest to blog anymore. Binti and Ibni each has their own blog which I will have to update periodically with pictures and all, so when it comes to my blog, I couldn't find anything else to write about.

Then I thought about my 'Hejab' project (which is still in construction, inshallah), about me trying to be a practising muslimah - so imperfect, so lack of knowledge in many areas- all my weaknesses which are my struggles in life a.k.a jihaad, but often misunderstood as someone who is on the contrary, knowledgable, religious, pious, etc etc. I'd like to clear this misunderstanding because for as long as people think that a hejabbed women is perfect, then nobody would try to be closer to Allah and accept his orders freewillingly or accept the wisdom behind it. So I'm going to bare it all, oops, I mean, tell-all I did wrong, not in the way to discourage, but encourage sisters to try. Put it on, make your own mistakes, but don't judge others for what you don't know.

Because, I'm every woman!, sings Whitney Houston! Yes, I'm just like any woman out there. I want to bring up my children well. I want to be good for my husband. I want that new I-phone ehem.., amongst other things..

Why am I changing lanes? Because everything I do must be because of Allah, and inshaallah this new phase, is for Allah. My imperfections will reflect on my trials, fears, dissapointments (with myself mostly), journey that comes with its obstacles. From today on, inshaallah, I'll be honest with my readers (like so many like that) about whats going on in my head (the one that you cannot see :) )

To start with, regrettably, I missed Isha' and Subh prayers last night as I was too exhausted from this long daylight in summer. Isha is about 11.27pm and Subh is at 2.45am. I'm usually dead right after maghrib while putting the kids to sleep. Habibi says sheikhs/ulama has made a fatwa that allows us here to pray jamaa' for both maghrib/isha'. He confirmed it with the local mosque here. We prayed jemaa' for maghrib and he continued praying isha'. I didn't know he was going to pray Isha' too, and I didn't make a niyyat before praying maghrib, so I had to wait for Isha'. Furthermore, I thought I can survive the late Isha' prayers, but of course, on the other hand, I will be missing plenty of Subh. :( So, dunno lah, if I'm going to join the prayers tomorrow or not. I don't feel like doing it, I don't feel good about it.

Talking about prayers, when I first started to pray again, I wanted to 'pay-back' all my missed prayers. Which is about..hmm.. 25 years at that time minus ages before puberty. So what I did was to pray the tunai ones, and then 'qada' the full set of prayers. I did my maths lah, I thought if I can pray x3 prayers extra for each waktu, I'll be able to 'pay-back' in a few years. It was tough, very tough. I did it for a few months then I found out that I don't really have to qada' for those missed years. But what I had to do was to repent, and pray that my sins will be forgiven. Ameen Ya Rab!

Oh that's not all, this evening I brought the kids out to play in our backyard. I just let them be play with the neighbours' kids and sat on our balcony staircase. I was too lazy to change from my pants to a skirt. My pants is flared and loose but like all pants, it clings on my bootiful butt lah. I should have changed, but I was too lazy since I thought I won't be moving much. Wrong. Ibni was all over the place and I had to get him. Then of course, Habibi came home and asked me to go inside. I was quite defensive lah, but like the malay saying 'Jangan nak tegakkan benang yang basah..' ("Don't try to straighten a wet thread"). So I went inside and plonked myself on the couch and watched CNN. He took care of the kids. Hehe.

So that's my bad for today. I hope I'll be better tomorrow. Inshaallah....

what's your bad today?

Another transit...

2007-05-25T15:50:00.000+03:00

It is the time of the year again. I'm in another transit of life, waiting for my next destination. Wondering if the plane will ever come. We bought some new furnitures, but didn't unpack them, just in case we might need to repack them again. The rest of the things, just remained as they are, I don't even want to think about them. Packing them up would be too hasty, leaving them as it is just reminds me that I'm still stuck in this painful transit. Basically, its a nerve-wrecking situation.

Change is probably the only constant I've known my whole life. Having moved 18 times (yes, I was counting recently!) from the age of 15-24. Those were days I rather not remember, and could not compare to my current status now. Alhamdulillah, Allah is great. There is an irony in it though, those years of moving from one place to another seemed now like a sort of 'preparation' for this new life with habibi and kids. But then, it was much easier to pack and go in a matter of hours being alone. Now, making every decision is tough as we have to consider the children, where we will be and when - and if we will be disturbing their educational progress. Living with our families or even near them, is a luxury we cannot afford.

I admire Habibi's strength, his dedication to work, to his family and the man of responsibility that he is. Such a man is hard to come by, and alhamdulillah, I am always grateful to the One above for letting me have such a man. It's hard to say if he deserves me, because, unlike me, he hardly complains. His down-to-earth upbringings made him even stronger than me in many ways. He doesn't whine or regret or loses hope easily. He gives a lot and expects nothing, or little. When I complain of backache after getting up in the morning, he actually feels bad and responsible for not buying me a more comfortable mattress. He sees buying clothes for me and his kids, an obligation, but buying for himself an unncessary luxury. These are some example of moments when I could go 'Awww..' I hardly talk about him, or describe him in such details, I know. Not because I don't appreciate him, but because I'm afraid to be envied. Because I know far better. Nothing is permanent in this world, All that I have belongs to Allah. And I am always thankful for everything.

Sometimes, when I actually did something wrong or have a squabble with Habibi that last for weeks, a dream will be sent to me. I know not to talk about bad dreams and will spit 3 times on the left when I am awaken from one following the Sunnah Nabi Muhammad (saw). However, to simplify, the dream will always wake me up with a feeling of repentance and I would be seeking Habibi's forgiveness immediately. Immediately the weeks of squabbles seemed trivial, than to compare with the blessings that I have been endowed with.

Currently, we are undergoing some changes in our lives. We are in another transit, a window of opportunity opens up during the times we least expect it. If its not from Allah, then who can it be from? We have prayed for the best, and this is it, no questions about it. If we wanted something else, then Allah would not have helped us. So, if our intentions are true and our conscience clear, we will be finally taking that plane to the other destination - the one that He has decided for us, the one that we have asked for -what's Best for us. But at this stage, we are just, as the saying goes, keeping our fingers twisted (not crossed!).

You will hear soon where that destination will be, for at this point, I have revealed to only a few, being careful not to be dissapointed again because of my excitement and expectations. If it doesn't happen, then perhaps, staying put, is The Best for us.

Whatever it maybe, we leave it to Allah. Tawakallillah inshaallah.

Mediteranean Delicatessen

2007-05-21T14:14:00.001+03:00

One of my favourite mediteranean delicatessen, the Turkish Dolma or also known in Egypt as 'Mahshi'. There are different variations, but so far I've only come to like my MIL's and my new turkish cleaning lady's recipe. She brought some to me one day for the kids, but it was too good, I almost finished them all but stopped myself and left 4 pieces for Habibi :) He considers 'Mahshi' (the Egyptian name for the dish) his top most favourite food, and finally, I've learnt it!

Here's sharing with you the step by step instructions for the knock-out Mahshi!
View recipe at my daughter's cookbook.

Brainstorm with me?

2007-04-26T18:17:00.000+03:00

Salam friends..

I'm currently looking for a suitable name for a website dedicated for 'Hejab'. The site will contain everything there is to know about Hejab, from what the Quran says, Feature stories /role models, Poetry, Conditions forDress Codes and most importantly, Frequently asked questions - covering all kinds of questions that a would-be hejabi would want to know before donning the hejab. From What is Hejab? Why wear Hejab?, Who wears Hejab?, How to wear Hejab?, What hejabis are saying? Shop for Hejabi clothes. etc, we hope to cover all aspects so as to support sisters in making that decision, or to keep it.

Work is in progress currently, and I really appreciate it if sisters/brothers out there can come up with a name for the site.

Looking for...
1.something in english, something catchy and hip. The site will be very attractive inshaallah, with magazine stlye format.
2. A name that reflects the activities/characteristics of the site -which is mainly a support group for Muslim women.
3. it Promotes sisterhood
4. hmm.. ...still thinking..

What to avoid ...
1. I don't waant to use the word 'hejab' because it will be mispelt in the english language making it hard to locate online. I am avoiding all arabic-english-sized names as far as possible. (No Zaytun, Khadijah, Latifah, etc)

2. The name must be easy to remember, straightforward spelling of english word/s - no shortcuts, no variations of spellings other than that understood by most dictionaries.

3. No dashes, underscores either. e.g
Bad examble :http://sister_hood.com
Good Example http://sisterhood.com (but that's already blocked..*sigh*...)

4. Somebody else has got the name... so it would really help if you can try typing out the name on your toolbar to see if the name is taken already or not (with .com extension). Some domain companies block the address eventhough it is not a functioning site. They sell it at high prices, and I can't afford it. I am going for .com most likely as its the most easy to remember.

Please give your inputs here or email me at maknenek@gmail.com. I would really like to offer a prize for the best name, but I can't afford it..but I'm sure Allah has the best rewards. May Allah reward you for your sincere effort.

Note : This is a non-profit site, and inshaallah will be self-operating, sisters/brothers can submit entries of personal experiences with hejab, poems, questions and inshallah, these entries will be put up immediately after approval from editors. Meanwhile, if you already have a story/poem/question to share, do email to maknenek@gmail.com.

Wannabe Malaysian, Boleh?

2007-04-21T01:18:00.000+03:00

These days, I go over friend's blog and then try to figure out how am I going to get away with not reading so many posted entries. I met dear friends here on blogsphere, but ashamed I cannot keep up with their whereabouts. The truth is, well..the truth is terribly boring to say the least, I'm just busy trying to be a mother of 2 little darlings and keep my sanity at the same time.

What brings about the title of this entry then? Well, its a long story actually. But to make it short, I really want to be Malaysian, officially. If you are in the Ministry or someone who can help, please contact me, I am not kidding. It's past midnight, but this is well-thought out, serious.

The thing is, this is not a brand new idea. In the late 90s, I was away and 'soul-searching' in Kuala Lumpur and was totally penniless. The idea of giving up my passport seems lucrative then because I would get whatever little I have in the CPF (Central Provident Fund) and can use it to fund my rent and probably get myself a cool 'ol beaten up Volkswagen. It was purely economical, plus there was nothing waiting for me in Singapore anyway. I thought life can start all over again in this land of my ancestors. I was having a ball, my friends were great, laundry service is cheap, so is the makan, so why not? I met a young lawyer in my Theatre group who quickly became a good friend and he offered to help me. He did some research and came back telling me that I actually have A RIGHT to be Malaysian because one of my parents is Malaysian. Now, that is good news. But then, I was under 21, so I would have to get approval from that parent...and then it ends there. Perhaps it was meant to be, but I know, if it ever happened, I wouldn't have regretted the decision.

Why this desire to be a Malaysian, a country just a causeway away from mine. There are many reasons. But one thing is for sure, I feel at home in Malaysia.

Does it even matter now that I'm not even living in Asia anymore and perhaps never again? Yes, it matters, because when people ask me where I am from, I want to say that 'I'm from Malaysia' because it makes sense to me. I grew up occasionally visiting the padi fields of Arwah Atok. I remember clearly the aromas of fresh durians, mangos, mangosteens, rambutans and other local vegetables like petai and jering. Nek Ngah makes the best kueh kochi, and Arwah Nek Uda used to sell belachans and cincaloks which were homemade by her.

I want to belong to a place that does not look foreign to me. I want to belong to a country that has an identity. I want to belong in Malaysia because I cannot think of a reason why I shouldn't. Those 2 years with you taught me more than what 20 years has taught me in the country whose passport I'm obliged to carry. I don't know why I am on the other side of the causeway, if I was born before that decision was made - I would have crawled to be on your side, if that is what it takes. To validate that action, I'll say that more than half of my family is still there.

This may seem like a small matter. But in my opinion, this is a Big. In a time where Malays never felt more displaced than before, where crimes and drop-outs are synanamous with the word 'Malay', there is nothing more assuring that to see many malay muslim professionals gracing every top positions, gaining entries to universities locally and abroad, receiving scholarships, receiving awards and many more. A place where a Malay voice is being heard. An avenue where the malay's view is just as important. I want to read the headlines written by a malay. I would be so proud to be part of all that.

Why would I have a congkak with me, miles away from its birthplace, if not to say that I used to play with it as a child?

I am a malay, am I not. So, Malaysia, Boleh?

Ciao Italia!

2007-04-11T20:21:00.000+03:00

When I first decided on Italy as our next holiday destination, I was just fulfilling my wanderlust but more importantly looking for a place where all of us can relax. Italy seems to be the most appealing route, after considering other lands near the borders of Germany. It seems to have what a small family needs; places of interest and fun for the little ones.

I would describe myself as a regular traveller and admit not reading about Italy enough before I made the journey, however, I can assure you that nothing could prepare me for the magic of Italy. 4 days was insufficient, to say the least, but at least, I know that if I have the chance, I would not hesitate to come back again. Every inch of Italy right up to the majestic Alps on the way to the borders of Austria was begging me to stay or to come back, because obviously, she has not told me her whole story.

We begin our way to Toscana early in the Good Friday morning. We are lucky to have a good traffic ahead. The journey would be long, as per our estimation. On the way to Toscana, we were to visit Verona, and that is in fact where we embedded our first steps on the land of La Dolce Vita. Our tummies were also growling in between the excitement but it was for a good reason. Italians are world-renowned for their culinary skills and it was not surprising to find many sidewalk cafes along every city serving everything from Pasta to Gelato to Expresso. For something quick, we opted for the original Italian Pizzas and took to have it at the Park just in front of the well-standing Arène de Vérone. There were of course endless choices of Pizzas but every café offers competitive variety. We settled for a single piece of Pizza, but the size bigger and thicker than the small pizza served at Pizza Hut! Indeed, Italy is clearly on the winning side in her global effort to combat fast food movement and replacing it with the slow-but-healthier food culture. Even a ‘vegetariano’ will not go hungry here in Italy.
The Roman Amphitheatre, Arena di Verona as its also known, was built in AD 30. It is in much better preserved condition than the Colosseum in Rome and can sit 25,000 spectators at once. Today it is still being used for Operas and performances. One can imagine the magnificence of the Roman Empire that built architecture as grand as this; albeit what it was built for. While in Verone, it is almost compulsory to visit the home of Juliet, at Casa Giuleitta, once owned by the rich Dal Capello family, whose name is linked to the mythical Giuleitta Capuleti (Juliet Capulet). Graffiti and professions of love in various ink and other imaginative forms can be found on the walls of Casa Giuleitta. Vandalism, but for a good cause perhaps.

We headed down towards central Italy and checked into our hotel late. That is not good news here as the hotels charge compulsory half board lodging. We had to miss dinner but woke up feeling much fresher after the long drive the day before. After breakfast, we decided to enjoy the sunny spring day at the beach. The soft sands of the Tyrrhenian Sea are decorated lavishly with beautiful multi-coloured pebbles of the ocean. Truly an artwork of God. Back at the hotel, we remembered to dress up for dinner and were served a hearty 4-course menu. Italians start their meals with bread and olive oil. You can get Ciabatta or Baguette, and choose your own Olive oil dip, from garlic to picante flavoured. Olive Oil in Italy is like Ghee in India! We didn’t expect a full serving of fish after gorging ourselves with a plate of pasta whose names we didn’t quite catch. A sweet treat of Gelato, Dolce or Frutte completes the dinner.
We left St. Vicenzo right after breakfast and hit the road towards Pisa, where the famously mocked architecture of La Torre Pendente di Pisa stands inside the square of Piazza dei Miracoli. I didn’t get the chance to go up the tower, but I have been told that it is a gravity-defying experience. The ‘Square of Miracles’also hosts a grand cathedral which showcase the best of medieval arts and sculptures in Romanesque Tuscan.

From Pisa, we are torn between heading up north towards the capital city of Rome or travel to Florence which is in the same state. Both requires at least 2 hours of driving. However, it was no surprise which city we finally ended up in.

When it comes to romance, Venetia (Venice) tops Paris hands down. At least, that’s how I felt. Maybe studying Merchant of Venice for 2 years as literature text as something to do with it, however, it is not easy to deny Venice’s charm. From the narrow streets between the jaded Italian Renaissance buildings to the rivers flowing, and the bridges that interconnect the city, Venice has a special artsy charm that is captivating and spellbinding. Striped shirt men with summer hats guard their gondolas with their lives. Vendors are making quick bucks for their Venetian Masks. I will not go home without getting myself a good mask and found one which is not too expensive in a boutique for hand-made masks. It makes a great momento for years to come, hopefully not too long before I could come back again to this magical land.
Ciao Italia. Thanks for a taste of La Dolce Vita.

La Dolce Vita!

2007-04-06T05:02:00.000+03:00

Un viaggio alla vita dolce! Don't take my word for it, the Italian translation i mean..dont trust Google translations that much however.....

Unbelievably,
1. The hotel has received our bookings! (redeeming a hotel stay voucher and what nots procedures)
2. Habibi's passport came back in time!
3. We couldn't find a decent PDA with GPS navigation! (Won't buy a navigation system by itself coz it wont work for us in some countries - this is really one of the worst places to look for electronic things - we found only 2 models in a HUGE electrical store...both don't support GPS)
4. The clothes are packed!
5. Food packed!
6. Toys & Swimming stuffs packed!
7. House cleaned! ...err..ok, ok, to a certain extent !
8. Dishes cleaned ..thanks for Mr. Bosch
9. Car Fixed
10. Now...where is the driver?

Pans the living room and finds him sleeping on the couch..so kesian. He slept late trying to finish his work, writing down the routes (coz the printer won't work!)...He planned this trip for us to take a break. Sayang him so much...heheh..

It's a 9-hour journey to destination.
Pray for our safe return please.

See ya later....

The Foul Story... (late entry)

2007-04-03T23:58:00.000+03:00

Blogging is a near impossible task these days. Especially if you still have luggages sitting around in the living room and the mundane routine of everyday life becomes all too familiar again. All too quickly, work piles up, so did the mess, contributed by the little ones quite efficiently in every nook.

When I first drafted out this new post, it started out as something totally different. It was written in Egypt, hoping that I could preserve the memory as I go along. The issues I faced then was also different. The (ab)normal-whiny-frustrated-housewife material that has bored me to death. Although I must admit that the trip wasn't that bad in the end of it, but I must give the credits to the little ones, for they filled my time from the moment we opened our eyes till the time that we sleep again. They were also bored, I could sense it. Habibi was away most of the time. At seminars, at work, always on the move, always attending to something, and when he finally reached home in the evening - he would be sitting with his parents, trying to make-up for every time lost. I got bored complaining hence I began to rewrite again. May Allah help him inshaallah. Isn''t is awful to be complaining when your husband is out there doing something meaningful and contributing to the society? Yes it is. But try to understand, if you are living in the midst of crowded city of Giza, not able to understand many words, not able to get a transport by yourself, no tv, nothing at all... what would you do? For Four Weeks.

The pyramids thing was done in 2 hours in between Habibi's appointments. That was probably the only thing the kids did with their father. We never got bored with the camel rides - the best part is ascending and descending from the camels! They are so darn tall. We took 2 camels, one for Habibi and Ibni, the other one for me and Binti. The camels brought us near the pyramids where we took our photos and then the phone rang, and Habibi had to go again - with us in tow - to the office for his next meeting. Then there was the zoo thing on the 2nd last day - all for the kids coz we don't want them to feel that Egypt has nothing to offer them. I personally have yet to see what else Cairo has to offer, but I guess I have a lifetime to do that.

Every year, I will meet up with my dear French-Moroccan friend, Fazo who's husband is coincidently based in Egypt for as long as I've been in Germany. That was always the highlight of my stay as me and Fazo would be catching up on each other, exchanging stories and experiences on motherhood. She has a son, the same age as Binti. The sad thing is, this might be their last year in Egypt.

MIL has long given up on calling me for breakfast for Foul and Tamiyya (also knowned as Falafel - a deep fried ball made of Foul or Hoummous) because she understands well by now that it is not my staple diet and I just cannot eat the same thing repeatedly day in day out. Plus, I'm never a breakfast person, so I'm ever willing to skip it for a hearty lunch. I got my stocks for some days when I'm in need of something Asian or spicy. Otherwise, I would be happy if Habibi would bring us out for delicious warm sandwiches at Wesaya or Cook Door (anything non-American). The sandwiches are to die for with selectons of meat and chicken cooked in different ways from typical Egyptian selections to American and Mexican. So basically, if I had my way, I wouldn't be cooking at all especially with the very lucrative exchange rates. (€1 to approx. 7 L.E)

Until the 4th week, I realise I don't have the gums to chew on grilled meat so very often. I miss the way we (Malays) cook meat and all that seafood selections cooked in gravy served with plain rice (not oily rice). So it was on hindsight that my belachan, curry powder, ikan bilis, lada kering came with me. It was pretty hilarious to see sweat dripping from my FIL's bald head after a meal ofParu (Lungs) cooked in Sambal Padang, but very encouraging when he asked for more!

4 weeks zoomed by and before I knew it, we were once again packing up to go back to Cold Germany. Right to the very last hour, Habibi had guests to entertain. I knew he wished that last day could be spent with his parents instead, but he couldn't turn down the visitors either. I understood from his responses that it was hard for him to leave his beloved country and his mother. But I couldn't watch him work endlessly either, and am grateful that back in here (Germany), time is more manageable and people don't drop in at 10pm!

Back in Germany, the gloomy weather are quickly being replaced by the cool but sunny spring days. Suddenly the whole house was waiting for my orchestration to function. At the same time, my creative energy is spilling with ideas that can't wait to be transferred into image files. I'm loving the time I get to do some work, it helps wind me down after a long day. Alhamdulillah, it was Allah's given talent that I re-founded and now focussing on rather seriously - meaning, I finally can ask for some money for the work done! heh! No more charity work - but I'm soft lah.

Neways, Easter holidays are approaching...we've eaten too much Rabbit and egg shaped schokolade. We are planning a road trip this weekend..all depends on whether Habibi will get back his passport from another embassy on time. If all goes well....inshaallah... we'll be ordering Spaghetti in Italy! Yeay!

Speaking of illnesses

2007-03-24T19:28:00.000+03:00

I wonder why I had become so weak. Actually its no wonder that my children don't get much immunity from me because I am in need of them myself. Almost every week or every other week, I'm down with some kind of sickness. Usually the early morning sinus will escalate into a cold, if I'm unlucky a fever, along with inflamation in the tonsils. Then I'll be down for a few days, with partial hearing, partial senses altogether actually. Food will not have taste and my mood is not at its best surely.

Today I'm suffering from something else. It was due to the smoke from my very hot pan from my negligience. The smoke filled the whole kitchen and I should have known better than to throw those 2 sticks of hotdog while the pan is that hot. I switched the fire off, but I must have inhaled what a heavy smoker might have smoked in a week. Now I can hardly breathe. I'm suffering from chest pains, difficulty in breathing and constant leaking due to excessive coughing; an old souvenier from child-bearing.

In Egypt, I was either having migraines or diarhhea or fever. Once in an airplane, I thought I almost lost my sight. There was also a terrifying near-death experience years ago, when I felt my air passage blocked and I couldn't breathe at all. I thought I was gonna die. At the hospital, the x-rays showed nothing, but as soon as I came out of the doctor's room, it attacked me again. Nurses put me down on a wheelchair. And soon, I could breathe again. But never had the chance to find out why. I am living with a breast lump for as long as I can remember. Gynae says its nothing, but I have not had time to make an appointment for a mamogram. There are also permanent scars from the skin allergy that broke out during the 1st pregnancy. In my childhood, I had broken an arm and a leg on 2 separate accidents - the leg is visibly crooked.

I consider myself healthy, or at least, I consume healthy food. I dislike oily food and would subsitute olive oil for oil when I can. I don't drink sweet drinks, only juice even then, diluted with water. I eat fruits and yogurt. So, I don't know why I became like this. But if those sicknesses are God's way of deducting my previous and current bad records, then I shall accept it. Alhamdulillah. It's better to suffer here than later...if you know what I mean.

God gives us strength

2007-03-19T12:18:00.000+03:00

There were other things that I wanted to talk about before I came to this point of time. However, as time passes, those things ceased in importance or rather, I decided that its best buried in the hatchet, or so they say. If only I can write about everything that happens day by day, or every new experience, frustrations; but if only I have the time. Tell me, if you are a mother of 1 or 2 or 3 or more small kids, how do you find time to blog? Do you hire a maid? I hear Electrolux has a new machine that irons clothes too! Have you seen it??

Ibni and Binti returned from their unexpected hospital stay after 10days. Although Binti was the one who took ill for more than 2 weeks prior to the hospitalization (contant recurring fever), it was Ibni whom my heart went out for. He wasn't accepted for hospitalization the day Binti was there because he was not 'dehydrated' (enough!), although he was hot with fever. The amateur in-training doctors told us to go home with Ibni, only for us to come back the next day with our Paedatrician's order for Ibni to be hospitalized. He was having a bad diarrhea and was so weak, he could hardly lift his head up. As a parent, I wouldn't know if the 'sickness' will go in a few days or that it will cause harm if not treated. But when he was admitted, I knew that was more than a few days case. Ibni and Binti were both on drips for their supplements. Ibni also got oxygen tubes through his nose, and another wired gadget to measure his heart rate and oxygen supply. With all those things wired up around his 11months body, it was hard for him to sleep in his usual toss and turn manner. I worry if the drip needle would be pulled accidently. And I wasn't over-reacting, it was somehow mislocated and it caused his whole left arm to swell. I remembered how difficult it was (the night before) for the doctors to find his veins because he is well-protected with flesh. They tried so many times, I still can see needle scars on his hands and legs because many doctors and nurses failed. He has RSV and ETEC and thank GOD for Google, I don't need a medical degree to find out about it. RSV is a virus that is causing him to come down with pneumonia and the ETEC bacteria is causing the diarhhea and abnominal pain.

It is also unfortunate that both of them are sick at the same time, and with no help here, Habibi and me took turns to be at the hospital. Sometimes if we are lucky, we get to sit and chat during the shift take-over, but only if its not early in the morning when he has to rush back home and then to work or in the evenings when I got a friend to give me a lift home. It was very tiresome when I return home because I try as much as I can to wash up the laundry that was soiled by Ibni at the hospital and if there is any energy left, I would try to prepare food for them because the hospital one is really pathetic. The PC was my only companion during those hard times, but only for a few hours, but an amazing few hours because I get messages like yours and from friends in Rantauan I barely knew who kept telling me to be patient, to remain strong for my kids. I did, Alhamdulillah, because the kids are too important for me to fall apart. Habibi and me suffered from emotional and physical stress and could hardly comfort one another. We just had to do what we have to do.

Binti recovered quickly at the hospital and that was a relief to see. She stayed on an additional few days because of Ibni. The whole room was ours by this time and it was much more private. I brought almost everything they are familiar with so as to remind them that this is temporary. I doubt if I was successful because after a few days, Binti stopped asking for her shoes.

However, it was also truly amazing that both me and habibi admitted of having a satisfying time with the kids at the hospital. Maybe because we are wholly and truly there for them, and it felt good to give it. They so deserve it. There was no internet or work to overload us. It was just them and us. Alhamdulillah both recovered in the hospital, Ibni was the last one to, as his body reacted strongly to the antibiotics. The doctors and nurses were all friendly, and it is ironic that I barely knew their faces because they always has a mask when they came into the room. During this course of time, I became at expert at taking temperatures and had to report it every hour in the beginning. I also learnt to detach some of the wires and tubes when I need to change Ibni's clothes. I change their hospital bedsheets and clean them up myself. I cannot imagine what would have happened if neither me nor Habibi was there because they really couldn't keep an eye on every kid. And I cannot imagine letting Ibni be by himself covered in poo or puke.

Allah is generous, he gave them their health back. Alhamdulillah. We can see how much happier they are now at home, in a familar territory. Binti have been so funny and delightful these days and just make my heart smile. Ibni on the other hand became more quiet but clingy. But the days in his bed in the hospital is making way for us to put him in his own bed at home. So far, Habibi and I have had a few relaxing evenings together watching movies while the kids are sound asleep. Finally. After some years! A reward, nothingless, for our patience.

Now excuse me for I have to go back to the ever-messy but-operational kitchen to feed the entire platoon.

Verily, with every difficulty there is relief

2007-03-08T00:08:00.000+03:00

Both my kids are being admitted now for suspected infections. Tests are still being carried out.

Alhamdulillah for everything.
Thanks Rantauan.Com friends for being there when I really needed some comfort.

The time that waits for no (wo)man

2007-01-11T13:45:00.000+03:00

And so.. mashaallah, another year just passed. Another year of marriage. Another year of unknowns, of expectations, of many things new and achanging.

The period of break was much needed. It was 'the' time of the year. Last year didn't end like how we expected it, but nevertheless, we redha, if that is what's best for us, then we accept and inshaallah HE will guide us. Then there was a short break to Singapore with the blessings of dear husband who willingly let us go for a whooping 4 weeks (which is never enough) while he stayed home, sleeping on couch, working all night, burning pizzas and a terribly messy house. I even caught sight of an 'Age of Empires' CD-Rom, something that I haven't seen in 4 years. Boy, he must be bored. Hehe. How did I manage with 2 kids onboard the flight of 12 hours to-fro (including 2 hours drive to the airport)? The answer is...'Nak seribu daya, beb!'.

I love my kids. Everyday I learn something about myself, about them. Everyday I find myself falling in love. But don't be deceived, sometimes, I feel like a failure because I cannot do what I have to. Sometimes, I break, because I put too much expectations on myself. In those times, I wished I wasn't who I am, but reality shows up like a mirror you're holding up in your hand. The grinch is you.

Speaking of families, weirdly enough, all my trials to get in touch with my immediate family members failed. It's ironic. I find those standing at the airport when I arrive/depart, the same ones who have seen me grow up, fed up, clothed me, they are my family...but perhaps, I'm still hoping for a miracle. But Allah is so merciful to his servant. I'm lucky to even have a family to return to. I'm lucky because I see people who went out of their ways to make me happy. Mak received me with 17 Packets of briyani dum from ZamZam after I cheekily told her on the phone to bring back some nasi 'orang kahwin' from her appointment that day for me when I arrive. She must have thought I really wanted to eat it. So she went, Mak, 86 year old lady (the strongest one I ever knew!) with the maid, took a taxi and bought me Briyani because I must have probably hinted it. I knew that every word I say there is taken very seriously. If I had wanted a roasted duck from China, I knew it would be on the table the next morning. It was to that extent. There were many other examples that I will fondly remember and by God, promise to appreciate for as long as I live. Miracles do happen I guess, but just in a different way than I expected. Right now, as I'm typing this, I'm chatting with my step-sis from my father's marriage. I'm glad in a way, that I can remain connected to Abah eventhough we hardly spoke.

I came back to cold Germany with a clearer mind and excitement to move on. I will make some changes in my life and will begin my 1st year really 'living' in this country. Binti will have to go to school pretty soon, that's how fast time flies. We have yet to toilet train her, that's one of the requirements.. eeyeew. But first, we are flying again to Egypt to visit family from the other side. Can't wait. Especially since I already hook up to fellow blogger who blogs over Egypt and we have promised to meet! Yippee Yay Yay! I'm actually looking forward to this trip. More so than I've ever been. I've packed up the old blender, toaster, even Baba's curry powder to accompany me for one whole month there. Our apartment there is apparently looking great after a major make-over last year. It was truly fun getting to choose your own tiles and wall colours! I'm better prepared now when Habibi goes to give seminars or work.. and the 2 kiddos won't give me any peace of mind anyways!

All in all, at least, I learnt (in 2006) that eventhough things can't be as you want it to be, it can be just as beautiful. Doing things different should not cloud your chance of happiness. Because time passes by, and if we let it go brooding and waiting for that 'thing' to happen, we will just be miserable along the way. Life goes on.... Obladi Oblada..err..whatever.

Happy New Year people of the blogging world. Maybe getting out of blogging for abit wasn't that bad after all. :)

Cheers to everyday, every sunshine, every laughter, every hope, every love and peace to all!

When the tide is low...

2006-11-07T18:17:00.000+03:00

Suffice to say, when things starts to go wrong, everything goes wrong...

Don't wanna blog about it. It's too long. Too complicated. Too personal.

Just need a good ol'break.

Is this your Sign O'Lord?

Eid - Now and Then

2006-10-22T15:12:00.000+03:00

Eid Mubarak to all bloggers!
Maaf zahir dan batin from the bottom of my heart for any wrongdoings, whether online or offline. I wish you a very happy and peaceful Eid with your family, loved ones and friends. This year, we will be here, the 2nd time we're celebrating Raya in Germany.

I don't remember anymore how many rayas I have not celebrated in my life. How many baju kurung that I have not made or bought for myself. When I was younger Mak (what I call my grandmother) used to 'tempah' (tailormake) all my baju kurung. They would be of very high quality material, like kasa rubiah. However, I am in disagreement of the tailor she chooses. And the pattern of my baju kurung. It would have a 'ropol' (gathered) shoulder attachement to the sleeve and a very thick shoulder pad which I would almost always pull out the moment I see them. I never liked my baju kurung and would always look a decade backwards than my peers who are always glamourous and has up-to-date traditional baju kurung/kebaya materials and fashion. Suffice to say, they were only worn on the obligatory first day of Hari Raya. My fate and relationship with Traditional costumes was almost sealed. Later on, I could decide on the material, colour and fashion of my Raya (Eid) clothes, but under a close supervision of Mak (and her chosen tailor) who made sure there isn't any high cut slits on my kain (skirt) or a tight-cutting on the top.

Later when I lived alone, I didn't bother to get myself anything anymore. I find it a waste of time, effort and money. Plus, without the years of experience, I have not cultivated the art of appreciating the beauty of the traditional costume. Mine were always a marriage of a blast from the 80s and the traditional. I know now in my family, Ibu (my aunt) took the short cut and will get those ready-made baju for her family. They would just decide on the colour, and then the shopping spree begins. I don't like those either because it felt manufactured, and massly produced! I just couldn't bear to be seen in something that some others also have. Yeah, I know. I'm too vain. I just have style, that's all. It's either top style or No style for moi. Eleh, nak muntah, tapi kalau orang kasi...amiikkkkkkk

Years later, married and living abroad, I'm no longer obligated to the must-have set (or even 2,3) of traditional baju raya. Furthermore, I'm married to an Egyptian, surely I don't have to stick to my yearly cultural routine. The first year we celebrated in Egypt, I just brought along a set of Dark Red Indonesian baju with Gold sulam embroidery (long top with pants) that Mak bought me just before I got married. That'll do. It's not my taste, but whaddaheck, its just one day of Raya,. I didn't know that I stood out from the hundreds of Giza population who are dressed rather modestly and dull- next to my Dark red costume as they came to do jemaah Solatul-Eid. I'm convinced then that that is the end of Traditional Baju's for me.

Not until I tasted Raya by ourselves here in Germany 2 years later. Not only did I not prepare any special costume for myself, I didn't prepare any for Binti either. Suddenly it hit me. I cannot be careless about a joyous celebration that I have grown up with just because I didn't want to get hassled by the elaborations. Binti had one the previous year when we were in Singapore for Raya. She has obviously outgrown it. Again, I was wearing my nikaah dress that still hangs in my cupboard till today. It has obviously exhausted its formal appearance by now. I'm going to make it right this year. I realise how I cannot let Eid pass by without making it an impact for my children, because it is a day to celebrate. It has to be a day they recognize after a long tedious journey of Ramadhan. And what right do I have, to deprive them of their own (part of) cultural heritage?

Nearing the raya date, I have most things covered, but still, there are glibs, but I learn. Just for my own reference, I will list down the things I need to do by Raya, the Raya's to come.

1. Order/Get someone/Buy early - Traditional Baju Set for Binti and Ibni and myself
2. SEND OUT Kad Raya 2 weeks in advance! I am guilty of not sending any for several years.
3.. Order/Buy/Make myself - Some kueh Raya, can playcheat with instant cakes available at Supermarket or buy some from Bengawan Solo (their boxes so cantik!)
4. Buy - Lampu Lap-Lip for the house and children's room for use during last week of Raya
5. Convince Habibi to give us 'green packets'...hehehe
6. Get a new shirt for Habibi (he refused to wear his traditional Galabeyah, so let's forget about trying to get him into a Baju Kurung)
7. Prepare new (or change for God's sake!) Curtains, Cushions, bedsheets, on eve of Eid

can't remember anymore lah. help me out will you?

Selamat Hari Raya to you in advance
Maaf Zahir Batin

Awaiting the Night of Destiny

2006-10-13T23:33:00.000+03:00

"Allahuma innaka 'afuwwun karimun tuhibbul 'afya fafu anni;

O Allah (SWT)! You are the Most Forgiving and Most Gracious! You love to forgive, so forgive my errors and sins" (Ibn Majah).

The Night of Destiny

"We have sent down this (Al-Quran) in the Night of Destiny. And do you know what the Night of Destiny is? The Night of Destiny is better than a thousand months. The angels and the Spirit (Jibrail) descend in it with every decree, by the permission of their Lord. That night is peace, until the rising of the dawn"

(Al-Qadr, Verses 1-5).

Lailatul Qadr or the Night of Destiny which is deemed a "highly blessed night" (Al-Dukhan, Verse 3) falls in Ramadan. Indeed, it was this night when Angel Jibrail commenced the revelation of the Al-Quran with the opening five verses of Surah al-Alaq.

The phrase Lailatul Qadr has two lexical meanings. Those and the content of Surah al-Alaq shed extensive light as to why this particular date was selected to commence the divine message, later to be called Al-Quran. The first meaning declares that this is the night during which destinies are decided. The revelation of Al-Quran on this night is exemplary in this sense because it, introducing the religion of al-Islam, changed the fates of countless people not only of the past, but also the present and the future. The second meaning simply elaborates on the glory, the honor and the dignity of this splendid night; and thus, the translation of Lailatul Qadr as the Night of Glory.

It is disputed as to when precisely, during Ramadan, is the night which is "better than a thousand months." Aisha, may Allah (SWT) be pleased with her, related that the Prophet, peace be upon him, said, "Look for Lailatul Qadr on an odd-numbered night during the last ten nights of Ramadan" (Bukhari). That is, Lailatul Qadr could fall on the 21st, 23rd, 25th, 27th or the 29th of Ramadan. But many scholars speculate that it is most probably on the 27th. When Zirr bin Hubaish asked Hadhrat Ubay bin Kab about Lailatul Qadr, he stated on oath, and did not make an exception, that it is the 27th night (Ahmad, Muslim, Abu Dawud, Tirmidhi, Nisai, Ibn Hibban). Notwithstanding, there are various authentic traditions which are not as specific; therefore, one can never be sure that it is in fact the 27th.

The reason why a definite date is not assigned for Lailatul Qadr is plainly that Allah (SWT) does not want His servants to limit themselves to one night. Instead He wishes that they pray to Him fervently throughout the last ten days so as to elicit the maximum amount of reward possible from the Merciful Allah (SWT). Likewise, Aisha reported, "The Prophet, peace be upon him, did not devote himself so much to the remembrance (dhikr) and worship of Allah (SWT) as he did during the last ten days of Ramadan" (Muslim). All believing Muslims, following the example of the Prophet, peace be upon him, should also devote those last ten days to exceptional worship of Allah (SWT).

When Allah (SWT) states, "The Night of Destiny is better than a thousand months," He is not necessarily alluding literally to eighty-three years and four months. Inspected in another point of view, the term "thousand," so employed figuratively in the Arabic language, denotes a very long period of time. In the process of examining this sentence, one may apprehend that the Night of Destiny is important mainly because the revelation of the Al-Quran began on this night. Allah (SWT) further informs the people that for this same reason, Lailatul Qadr is full of tranquillity and free of depravity. There are many ahadeeth that support the vitality of Lailatul Qadr. For instance, Anas ibn Malik related that the Prophet, peace be upon him, said, "When Lailatul Qadr comes Jibrail, alayhi salaam, descends with a company of angels who ask for blessings on everyone who is remembering Allah (SWT), whether sitting or standing" (Baihaqi). Also, on the authority of Hadhrat Abu Hurairah, the Prophet, peace be upon him, expressed, "The one who remained standing in worship in the state of belief and for the sake of rewards from Allah (SWT) during Lailatul Qadr, would have all his previous sins forgiven" (Bukhari, Muslim).

Aisha asked the Prophet, peace be upon him, "If I happen to find the night which is actually Lailatul Qadr, what supplication should I make to Allah (SWT)? "He instructed me to pray, "Allahuma innaka 'afuwwun karimun tuhibbul 'afya fafu anni; O Allah (SWT)! You are the Most Forgiving and Most Gracious! You love to forgive, so forgive my errors and sins" (Ibn Majah).

One must also address the time differences in the world and how this issue affects Lailatul Qadr. It is true that when it is night in Saudi Arabia, it is day here in the U.S. Yet, when one analyzes the Arabic language, one understands that the Arabic word for "night" refers to a combination of both day and night. Therefore, as Maulana Maududi remarks, "the night preceding the day on any one of those dates of Ramadan can be Lailatul Qadr for that part of the world" (The Meaning of the Al-Quran, vol. 16).

Saulat Pervez

Since 1934

2006-10-08T05:13:00.000+03:00

My Brand New old Olympia Filia Typewriter.

Since 1934. Production Ended in 1940.

A Flea Market catch of the day ***grinning like an idiot***

http://www.typewritercollector.com/
http://www.typewritermuseum.org/

Muslim Idol - A Ramadhan Project

2006-09-13T12:42:00.000+03:00

Tired of hearing complaints about how hard is it being a Muslim? Tired of having to explain yourself over and over again for crimes you didn't do?

Well, there are certainly better things to do. This ramadhan, I'd like to start on a little project I call, 'Muslim Idol'. Yes Indeed, I'm inviting all readers of the blog to participate on this thread that I have started at Rantauan.Com. Oh, you need to sign up, but if you don't, you can also add up here in your comment box and I will paste it up there. But..do sign up, it's a lot of fun in Rantauan.Com (Under Religion - General Religious Discussions)

_____________________________________________________________________

Salam All
Oops, I don't mean Idol as in statues! I'm talking about Muslims in the time of Islamic Civilisation who have made very significant contribution to the World today. I know many of us have been deprived of such intensive and inspiring stories of our islamic past. We were GLORIOUS! We were honourable! We were strong, and most of all, we were FAITHFUL muslims.

Over the recent years, I've struggled with myself because of the lack of knowledge that I have abt Islam and its history in general. Madrasahs were about learning Alif-Ba-Ta and Fardhu Ain. History lessons are very minimal, concentrating only on the Prophet and his Family, and Sahabah. There are a lot more. Don't you wish to know it all? I especially feel inspired by Muslim Scientist, Astronomers, Religious Teachers who have shaped the path for so many technological miracles! We (Muslims) were leading in Mathematics, Sciences, Medical, Laws and so so much more! How so many jargons used in the various fields today are actually Muslim names!

Do you know the first man to fly is a MUSLIM?
Do you know that MUSLIMS have established hospitals, whilst the West were still curing the sick with the dust of their saints?
Do you know the man who travelled more extensively than Marco Polo?
Do you know that Muslims discovered the circumference of earth, when the West were still unsure if the World was round?
Do you know that Algebra & Algorithm were works of a Muslim Mathematician & Scientist?
Do you know that the first surgery was done by a Muslim?
Do you know that the lens was a study made by a Muslim that enables us to have our very taken-for-granted cameras today?

These are just some discoveries and there are many more that we can find, because these are TRUE, DOCUMENTED history that men cannot erase (but they don't tell it to us) because of their great impact. Why were they so successful?

Here, in this thread, I invite all friends to find a muslim scholar of their choice, and put it here and share with achievements with us
Give a few links or notes you find abt that person and paste it here for all of us to read. Then give your own feedback as to Why that person is your idol or why you find him Inspiring. It can be anybody, from the Prophets, their families, sahabas or faithful followers. Inshallah, I really hope that by sharing, learning about our past, we will become better muslims for the sake of Allah, will reap rewards in this life and hereafter and one day, be as Great! Ameen, Inshallah.

Let's make it our Ramadhan Project!
_______________________________

So I shall start :-

My Idol
One of my favourites is Ibn Batuta! Who is my Muslim Idol? read on!

Quote:

Abu Abdullah Muhammad Ibn Battuta (Arabic: أبو عبد الله محمد ابن بطوطة) (born February 24, 1304; year of death uncertain, possibly 1368 or 1377) was a Moroccan Berber Sunni Islamic scholar and jurisprudent from the Maliki Madhhab (a school of Fiqh, or Sunni Islamic law), and at times a Qadi or judge. However, he is best known as an extensive traveller or explorer, whose account documents his travels and side-excursions over a period of almost thirty years, covering some 73,000 miles (117,000 km). These journeys covered almost the entirety of the known Islamic world, extending also to present-day India, the Maldives, Sri Lanka, Southeast Asia and China, a distance readily surpassing that of his predecessor, near-contemporary and traveller Marco Polo.

At the instigation of the Sultan of Morocco, Abu Inan Faris, several years after his return, Ibn Battuta dictated an account of his journeys to a scholar named Ibn Juzayy, whom he had met while in Granada. This account, recorded by Ibn Juzayy and interspersed with the latter's own comments, is the primary source of information for his adventures. The title of this initial manuscript may be translated as A Gift to Those Who Contemplate the Wonders of Cities and the Marvels of Travelling, but is often simply referred to as the Rihla, or "Journey". Whilst apparently fictional in places, the Rihla still gives as complete an account as exists of some parts of the world in the 14th century.

Why I like him?
He began his trip with just one rule - which is, to never travel on the same road twice. To me, that can be applied in our lives, where we can make mistakes, but we don't go back to them. In his travels, Ibn Batuta was forced to make some because of dangers, and other factors. His motivation for the great feat was to simply visit the Islamic countries - he covered them and much more - he made Haj, visited the Prophet's grave, and also visited many historical places. This is a man who wanted to pursue knowledge, no matter how hard, or how impossible it may seem to be. That's why he is my Idol.

Read more about him here http://en.wikipedia.org..
http://www.islamonline.com..
http://homepage.mac.com/sandeep/batuta/batuta.html

I can't wait to to hear from the rest of you. Please join in thread and keep the posting coming! What are you waiting for, SEARCH FOR YOUR MUSLIM IDOL NOW!

Salamualaykum

p.s : To help generate participants into this thread, I encourage you to seach on these sites (and others if you can find) to learn about great Muslim scholars. It's ok if you don't know any, but you can look for one, and then share with us why you think he is worth knowing. While youre doing this little project, you can also share what you learn with your family and children. We all need a little boost

http://www.muslimheritage.com/
http://www.islamonline.com/cgi-bin/news_service/profiles.asp
http://www.1001inventions.com..

Looking for evil in the Axis.

2006-08-29T10:46:00.000+03:00

I wouldn't be able to say it better.

_________________________________________________________________

Looking for evil in the axis
By Kenneth Street

I first arrived in Syria in 1993 and now live in Aleppo, an ancient city in the North that was once a trading axis on the silk road. I have a happy and contented life here, an Australian, amongst this rich tapestry of contrasts, ethnicities and religions: Sunnis, Shias, Alawis, Druze, Maronites, Christian Arabs; orthodox, roman and protestant, Assyrians, Palestinians, Kurds, Armenians and a smattering of other minorities. They have been living side by side for centuries and now, mostly peacefully. I guess they live peacefully together, even though they would never intermarry, because social conventions have evolved here to avoid conflict if possible and to honor a person’s dignity. Their mode of communication favors consensus rather than conflict. One expression of this is the very refined sense of Arab hospitality that is famous throughout
the world. And so, even if a person’s worst enemy arrived at their door step chances are
they would feel culturally compelled to offer hospitality.

To offer a personal example: I had just come in from the desert and my nice old Peugeot was filthy dirty, so I stopped in a small village garage to have it washed. I got out and stood around waiting; looking out at a flat dry landscape bleached by a formidable sun, heat waves and dust dancing all around me. There were a bunch of tough looking truck drivers standing in a group waiting for their trucks to be washed. At the time the coalition of the misled were bombing the hell out of Baghdad; thousands of civilian casualties that make the Bali bombings and 9/11 seem like minor by comparison; collateral damage as we so conveniently call it. Arab sentiments were running high, bordering on redlining. I felt very conspicuous, a westerner, so obvious, wearing a white T-shirt and jeans, while every one around me was very Arab, clothed in a wardrobe designed 2000 year ago. Of course this is Syria, I had nothing to worry about. One of the truck drivers told a kid to go and fetch me a chair while another made me a cup of rich back Arabic coffee spiced with cardamom. “Welcome to Syria” they said all smiles and warmth. I felt humble and at the same time a little ashamed for I knew that many Australians would not welcome a
traditional looking Arab in this way.

Imagine my dismay when I found out I was living in one of the polarities of the axis of evil. I thought I better investigate - go out and find me some evil. Fornication was high on my list – damn not much of that. Maybe red-light districts, dens of iniquity, bondage parlors and seedy bars complete with lap dancers. Damn – slim pickings; a county of 20 million and maybe 3 decent bars, not seedy, mostly deserted. No, Syrians prefer to spend their time socializing, sitting around drinking coffee and in the evenings eating loads of scrumptious food while communicating with each other. Say, perhaps we could build a case for gluttony. That’s a deadly sin isn’t it? But then again obesity is a heath crisis in the Axis of good, so gluttony can’t be it.
OK what about, teenage delinquency and high suicide rates, old people shoved into retirement homes and forgotten, homeless people, masses of beggars like I found in most big American cities, mass death by gunshot – nope, again all pretty rare. I intensified my investigation; maybe there is a really sick underbelly here like home grown live child porn sites on the internet, high school mass murderers, serial rapists, serial killers, active sadists with nasty little rooms under their houses and general sickos like that – again a blank; the society here just don’t seem to tolerate people like that. I just don’t know how the media in Syria makes a living.
So maybe the evil here is more insidious and organized, like gambling extravaganza complexes that steal the shirts of people’s backs, white slavery, nasty biker gangs, extortion rackets, vicious mafias and drug lords purveying crack, smack, cocaine and other forms of misery. But again no; damn, you can’t even get a decent Joint to relax with. I guess the government here must see these sorts of actives as a threat to the well being of the people and they just say “NO”; with extreme prejudice. Some statistics to put things in perspective:

Axis of Good (US) annual body count; various causes:

Poor Nutritional habits 365,000
Alcohol 85,000
Suicide 30,622
Death by gunshot 29,000
Homicide 20,300
Illicit drugs 17,000
Marijuana 0

Which amounts to roughly 2,700,000 Americans dead by misadventure since 9/11.
And by comparison
9/11 body count 3000

So I figure Syria must be doing something really bad to gain their dubious title because they sure can’t claim per capita statistics like those above. Perhaps they manufacture and export high tech weapons systems, smart bombs, white phosphorous and cluster bombs, tanks, warplanes and the real weapons of mass destruction: millions of land mines and small arms. Maybe their big foreign money earner is death and destruction – Nope; Syrian factories prefer to make useful things like cotton fabric. They must be really mean regional bullies then and do stuff like occupy their neighbor’s lands and while doing so uproot 100,000s of olive trees for good measure; trees that represent peoples livelihoods and, ironically, also represent peace. Well that’s also definitely no, they themselves are being occupied.

Since the year 2000, 5500 people, in one of Syria’s neighboring countries, have been killed by an occupying force and 40,000 have been grievously wounded or maimed while a further 10,000 now languish under appalling conditions in prisons without trial, not to mention the 5 democratically elected government ministers who were recently kidnapped. In addition to the human casualties, over 30000 civic buildings and homes have been destroyed or badly damaged in this country. And now, more recently, another one of their neighbors have had their infrastructure bombed into the stone-age, 10s of 1000s of homes and livelihoods destroyed and in the process over 1200 people were killed, most of them civilians and way too many of them children. And there is no telling the number of people who have died inside and now know only how to hate or how many will die later of a broken heart. Inflicting this sort of suffering on another country would definitely qualify as evil, bordering on satanic – Syria? – yes, geographically close, but no. I guess even if they wanted to be this evil they know very well that the world community would just not tolerate it – not from them at least.

I was left mystified ‘cause I know it can’t be the fact that they aren’t exactly a model of democracy, well hell, the Axis of Good supported their erstwhile mate Saddam for years–
they even sold him nasty chemicals weapons and fancy equipment to kill people with. Then it hit me, I know why they are evil. It should have been so obvious from the start. There is not one McDonalds, KFC, Starbucks, Dunkin Donuts, Subway, Hard Rock Café or Hooters franchise in the whole place – I mean depriving a whole population of such wholesome food and tasty beverages must be evil.

I hope you grow older and wiser

2006-08-10T10:14:00.000+03:00

This was published for this months edition of Manja, Singapore. I wrote it originally in English.
Here goes :

I recalled clearly the night of 31st December 2002. That was the day I had to say goodbye to my family, my friends and most of all, my homeland. Today, almost 4 years later, I may still call my family when I miss them, email my friends to keep in touch, but I am not able to do that with my country. My yearly visits are preciously occupied with visiting and catching up to give her much attention. Well, this will be my tribute to my country, my Singapore.

When one is abroad in a cosmopolitan country, your nationality is your only identity. And in this case, my Singaporean passport is much more than a document of travel. It sets me apart from others, but at the same time, brings me closer to my people and my roots – something that I have been taking for granted for awhile. Though being away is hard, I’m sure I wouldn’t have things to say about Singapore today than if I never left her in the first place.

What do I remember about Singapore? Oh, lots. Usually when asked about what people missed most about their countries, they would automatically say Food! Well, who doesn’t? With the enormous gastronomic selections of India to China to Peninsular Malaysia and everything in between, we do have the best of Asia in one pot. But I fondly reminisce my growing up days in Singapore the most.

I was born in a HDB flat in an old district called Circuit Road. The flat is still up there till today. I remembered learning how to ride a bike along the corridors on the 8th storey apartment we lived in. I remembered playing marbles with the neighbours kids in the small drain in those corridors. I remembered making kites out of the red plastic bags my grandma got from the market. I remembered the ‘apek’ who was always in his white singlet and beige shorts and when I have to run errands and buy things from him, I will also take the chance to play ‘tikam’ at his shop and will marvel at my winnings all the way back from the shop. I could almost hear the chants of ‘Ondeh Ondeh, Goreng pisang, Nasi Lemak’ by malay children just around my age then, who went around the flats selling their mother’s hardwork. And which child wasn’t terrified by the dark looming figure of the mysterious ‘Karung Guni’ man!

There is this row of hawkers across our flat, and when I go to school, I would have to cross these hawkers, and on the way back, I always saved 20 cents of my pocket money to buy a small glass of purely pressed sugar cane juice. Behind the hawker market is a bridge connection to my old primary school. It was on that bridge that I caught sight of my very first rainbow. It was truly a beauty to fascinate.

I can marvel about Singapore’s achievements which made me proud of being a Singaporean, but I’m really most thankful for the colourful childhood she has given me so that I may tell these stories one day to my own children. From the Javanese pakcik satay, Indian roti prata man, to the rickshaw ‘apek’, who all seems to be able to speak Malay at that time, Singapore was able to demonstrate tolerance and patience amongst different cultures in a unique and fascinating way. I hope that these relationships that was nurtured and built over the years will be appreciated and continued by our society today which has made it a great place to grow up in! I miss my homeland, but I am grateful that I still have fond memories of her though I’m thousand of miles away today.

Happy Birthday Singapore and to many more years to come!
Love from Germany

Sit and Do Nothing

2006-07-27T13:44:00.000+03:00

Yes, I'm talking about Israels' offences in Gaza & Lebanon

Yes, I'm talking about how Zidane's headbutt incident is a reflection of being muslims these days

Yes, I'm pissed that even 'Assalamulaykum' cannot be said on National TV anymore (sg)

Wow. How did Israel manage to do all that in one go? Just for a small piece of land in the heart of the middle east, they have managed to turn the lives of overseas muslims upside down, and they have also managed to make local muslims feel bad about themselves- by not being able to use 'expressions' that they have been using since ages.

Yes. I am sitting and blogging about this because I cannot think of anything else I should do. Sure for those who are not Arabs and live far away from this hiatus, this problem seems far and unrelated to your life. I used to think that too. Read the 3rd line again. Now, my colleagues in the TV Industry in my own small homeland so far away is about to succumb to pressure and accept this humiliation that the world insists on us.

I have tasted that humiliation. It was when habibi cannot enter my country because of his passport. It was until he proved that he could be an asset, that they offered him a PR. Allah has planned it such that, my own children, my flesh and blood, are nationalities of a muslim country situated right beside Palestine. Their neighbours are suffering, homeless, killed, tortured, raped everyday. Here in Europe, we have even made friends with these neighbours, whom otherwise we rather not know, as we sit comfortably in our own homes, praying that this won't happen to us instead.

However, my children will be different. They are born with a Free mind, and this need to be Free will be taught to them by me. The Freedom to do what is right, to fight for what is right. Their father saw that in me. My qualities he said. Free. Brave. Strong. All his life, he had people telling him, You shouldn't say that - you'll go to jail, you'll get caught, etc etc. They were taught that to live, is to put your head down and keep it there. I grew up fighting all fronts just to find out who I was. He was taught that to learn something, you have to repeat it 100 times. I learn by wanting to know how that something happens.

Scared? Of course I am. Especially when habibi dreams of the day his son will be fighting in a Battle to free Jerusalem. I replied with a joke, 'He will need an umbrella, it's too hot in the dessert'. At the same time, I want to support him. I want my children to see how we are being bullied, wherever we are.

(End the War Crimes in Palestine & Lebanon)

An acquantaince here, an educated moderate Muslim, who's passion is also to Integrate Muslims into the German community. He had organised talks and dialogues between Christians and Muslims. He set up booths in the middle of town to explain abt Islam after 9-11. Recently, he was told that his living permit will not be extended. Because? Nobody knows for sure, but it must have been his answers to questions like-

1.If your neighbour is having a party, but he broke his arm..would you help him carry the beers?

2.If your wife gets beaten, will she go to the police?

3. What do you think of Christian missionaries in Muslim countries.

The first question shows how much tolerance they require from the muslims - without having to show it themselves! The 2nd question, is too stupid to discuss. Why do they have the impression that Professors would be beating each other...and that she wouldn't do anything if being threatened this way? Duh. He answered the 3rd question by saying 'If the missionaries come in peace, and spread the religion, they have every right to do so. But not if they take advantage of poor situations and poverty.' For that he was given a half an hour lecture about Christian Churches which deleted every letter in history over the past few centuries.

The most talked-about World Cup incident, being the headbutt Zidane gave to Matterazi, just goes to show that, no matter how successful a muslim can be here, he will never be accepted. I have felt insults thrown at me in a very demeaning tone just because I am wearing a headscarf. You cannot be Muslim and be accepted. You have to adopt their culture, their way of thinking, their style of living - practically live away from your Islamic callings, then perhaps, you will be accepted. But I doubt.

Why, do we as Muslims accept it without any fight? Why did the TV station accept those rulings of not expressing Islamic expressions, eventhough, they are as good as our mother language. (Mashaallah, Astarafighullah, etc). Hell-o! Even the Arab-Christians use these expressions for heaven's sake! I thought we are free. I thought wrong. We are free, but we don't care. Or maybe, we are free to do what THEY want. But what they don't understand is that, the more they try to cut us off from our religion, the more we learn, the more we hold on to it. I believe its the only way to save our youths from straying - they cannot live a life of contradictions that is offered to them. The govt. knew that. That's why they wanted religion out of our lives. But we have a choice - I can choose to put away what they offer out of my life. Let's put religion back into our lives, the lives of our family, our children.

Meanwhile, I'll let Al Jazeera & BBC newscasters tell me what they see, what they hear. I want to know. I didn't care before, but now I do.

I just want to leave this world with dignity.

If you can stomach it, see more pics here

Jejak Kasih

2006-07-24T17:02:00.000+03:00

Alhamdulillah, my jejak kasih mission is successful.

Just 10mins ago I was on the phone with my Mother. Yes, the one who gave birth to me. It was amazing. I called on her husband's mobile, and later, got hold of her who is now in Singapore. Quite unbelievable that she has braved herself to come and live in Singapore again after going through so much around 30 years ago. Time passes by so quickly. It must have heal up those wounds.

She was waiting by the phone when I called. That's good. I don't know what I should say if someone else were to pick up the phone. We chatted, caught up, and updated each other on our lives. I didn't forget to tell her how much I missed her cooking. She promised to cook for me when I see her next time. Of course, told her she just got 2 more grandchild - from me and my elder sister. She sounds happy. All her children (with the new husband) are doing well themselves too. Joey (1st) is now married. Icha just graduated and now has a job. Nad & Nabila are now in University, the last one, Iman is only 14, but already living in campus of a boarding school, as apparently, his studies are really good. The last time I saw him, he was still in his diapers.

I spoke to my sister just last week. She is still in confinement, after a tough delivery, but alhamdulillah, now happily settling into her new role as a mother, and absolutely loving it. I'm happy for her.

Alhamdulillah. My mission is complete. I now keep their phone numbers stored in my online phonebook. Inshallah, if Allah wills it, I will meet them at the end of the year.

Can't get hold of Daddy. I know where he lives, just dunno his number. Na ja, will just drop by when I visit Singapore.

Thanks all for the birthday wishes and kind words.

I'm a happy lady. ALhamdulillah

Lost & Found & Lost Again

2006-07-18T13:37:00.000+03:00

It's my birthday week. It's the last year of my 20's life. Nothing significant about this year, except that I just had my beautiful son and enjoying every moment with him and the Binti. Habibi has planned a surprise, which I'm sure takes a lot of effort and 'reminder notes' everywhere so that he could remember he actually had planned one! He said, "Let's not make it a birthday, let's make it a Birthday Week!"..wah.. really? "Let's go out everyday this week until your birthday". Eh, why not! Very gooood. He even offered to have dinner outside everyday..but knowing what little choices we have... I rather we just save that for the Birthday.

I also have this incredible itch to locate my immediate family members. Maybe its the maternal instinct, whatever it is, at least one of us is trying. Daddy doesn't have a number, so I cannot tell him that he now have another grandchild. Actually, 2 more..because my one and only elder sister (from the same parents) has just given birth too. I've been trying all morning to talk to my elder sister, got her once on the line, but it was too noisy, I decided to make the call again using another provider...but till now, I cannot get hold of her again. My family in Singapore informed me that she just gave birth, and after digging into my old emails, alhamdulillah, I found her husband's number that she gave me a long while ago.

Mommy also dissappeared over a year. Numbers are not valid anymore. Why do people change their numbers so often? Alhamdulillah, a kind blogger friend helped me locate someone who might have Mommy's husband's number. (He is kinda known in the Entertainment Industry). I was very excited when I got a reply on the email which includes his mobile number and also email address. I wanted to do both at the same time. I emailed him, updating, summarizing quickly my intentions...but the email was quick to bounce back into my mailbox with a message ' Delivery to the following recipient failed permanently. When I tried calling his mobile I also got a message Nombor yang anda dial, tiada dalam perkhidmatan (The number you called is not in service).

My only consolation today was that my sister has picked up the phone, which means, the number is valid, and I could try again today, everyday, if that is what it takes me to get in touch with her and the rest of the 'family'.

This is the least I could do for myself this birthday.

Go Deutschland!

2006-07-03T23:20:00.000+03:00

A Picture we took on the day Germany beat Argentinians 5-3 during Quarter Finals.

Actually I prefer France, but since I'm here, whaddaheck... I'm supporting home team, not because they play well, but because I really love to see the gleaming pride on the faces of the Germans when their team wins. Germans, as we all know, anal..ehem.. and cold, can’t hold a conversation, can't carry a tune, can't tell a joke! My 4th year now, and I have not changed my mind about them since I set foot here.

I always dread those evenings when Habibi has to invite his colleagues home for dinner. There are always awkward pauses, dry jokes that I have to bear with. Habibi would always try to fill in those moments of uncomfortable silence, and initiate many topics, but what more can you do if they answer your questions with 1, maximum 2-worded replies! In the German language, when you say 'freund' (male friend) you are referring to a boyfriend..because there isn't a general word for casual friends. You can use 'bekannte' but that actually means 'acquaintance'. See how hard is it to be on their phone book? Evening invitations are usually whole-night affairs, with dinner, tea and cakes/desserts to be served at the end. These invitations have to be made 2 weeks in advance - at least. Surprise guests are not welcomed.

What I cannot understand is why they insist on people speaking their language, but all they see/hear are American movies/songs! They ad-lib all the movies very badly. Blacks, Chinese, Hispanics all sound the same in the German accent - which shows how much tolerance they have for racial integration. It’s a lot worst when they try to translate the songs too!

But I must give it to the Germans. They are disciplined, organized and almost mechanical in their way of thinking. Once while booking air tickets to go home, I was told that Binti’s tickets costs €xx. I couldn’t believe it of course, because that’s like peanuts, so I told the lady on the phone to re-check it. She insists that she was right, simply because ‘the computer says so’. I know it takes another phone call some other day to get the right prices, but I cannot argue with someone who lets the computer do the thinking. Another time, I had to make a call to a cultural centre to help a friend locate a Muslim Designer based in Germany. I called almost everyday for about a week, but since that person who is in charge was on holidays for 1 month, there is no way I can get the information. That’s another issue – isn’t 6 weeks too much holidays for the already 35 hours a week working nation? Do we need to wonder why big factories like GM, VW are moving their headquarters to Eastern Europe although that would cost thousands of local people to lose their jobs?

How can I forget the time when I was told to swim on the centre lane because the first lane was meant for old ladies who cannot swim? I tried to explain that I was pregnant and there are tendencies of getting leg cramps, but no one would be hear me. Flexibility is not something they are used to. That explains why we are not allowed to throw our thrash on a Saturday at 1.59pm even though that’s the only free time we have, because though the gigantic thrash bins are unlocked, it’s officially closed at 2pm. So that’s how our guest toilet turned into a temporary store for tins, drink cartons, glass bottles, plastics, etc etc.

That’s why we find it amusing, weird, even interesting to see how the Germans celebrate their win over Argentina last Friday during the Quarter Finals. We were going for our evening walk when we hear cars honking, with people of all ages, cheering, clapping, waving their national flags to us. We cheered with them, sharing their happiness (eventhough the game sucks). It seems that everybody was heading to the Stadt (Town Centre) so I rushed back to get my sometimes-dysfunctional digital camera. It was amazing. The road leading to the Stadt was jammed with cars, the small dead city of Forchheim where I lived, is dead no more. Red, Black and Gold colours were everywhere, on the cars, on the faces, even on the hair! There were no barriers. People were friendly and happy. Wearing a smile seems to be a tedious chore for the Germans, but not on that Friday. We took pictures of the fans, one lady seeing how excited we were, even offered to take our family picture (the first one since Ibni came). I wanted to take a picture with a fan, but Habibi was more cautious. He knew the Germans (at work) so he wasn’t very enthusiastic about the idea, but I insisted, and got myself a picture taken with a girl fan who was happy to oblige. 'This is unusual for Germans', admitted a German friend. And because I’ve seen what winning means to Deutschland, I really do want to see them win on their home ground. They have not been able to carry their flags and wave it proudly as theirs. They have not been able to sing the complete version of their national song. They were constantly reminded of their past by the people who wants them to be sorry for it.

I’m sure beneath, we are all the same people, but our surroundings, our environment dictates who we are and who we should become, and sometimes, those things aren’t right. It takes a sincere ‘Congratulation’ from us, the temporary migrants on this European soil, and a smile of happiness breaks in the face of those who receive it.

So Germany, although I hate your bread, your cheese and the things you call lunch, I wish you all the best in the World Cup 2006, and hope that it will revive new confidence in your people and bring them together in peace, joy and happiness forever after!

Tor! Toor! Toooor!

Your Born in Germany Die-Hard Fans...

Just Do It - For HIM!

2006-06-27T08:20:00.000+03:00

These days, there is an overwhelming feeling of extremities. Feelings of happiness, of lost, of hope, of joy, of uncertainty. Maybe I'm just an emotional freak like always.

Out of nowhere, sometimes, I get 'signs' or some feelings that cannot be brushed off. Like recently, I've been thinking a lot about contacting my parents - for a simple reason - to tell them I have another child - which makes them grandparents by now, if that would make any difference at all. Anyway, I have to do my part. If they chose to abandon us (me and sis), that's their problem, but I don't want the burden and guilt of severing ties to be on my shoulder.

Then, I received an sms from someone, I don't know who cause my old mobile was down and I lost all the numbers in there (yeah, if you're my friend and reading this, please send me your numbers on email..hehe). But my heart knew who that was, there was no way to predict it by the contents or the number (its new), but today, I caught up with her on msn, and am glad I did. It was Allah at work again. My friend R, who have a lot going on for her already, broken relationship, mother who recently lost both legs due to diabetes, a very young brother who got married and now separated from his also-very young wife. Sisters with problems of their own. She, left on her own. The 2nd one in the family, the only one not married, but the only one who have been the pillar of the family - monetarily. Now, got herself into another relationship, but a clear test from Allah, as he is a staunch catholic. With all that is going on for her, what will prevent her from making another mistake, but a weak feeling at her heart, a faint sign that it is the wrong choice?

Wanting everything 'western' did not only stop at clothes, music, films, watches, sunglasses, but another appetizing delight is.. a western man. The man who we see in those films, wore those clothes, sings those songs... GO WEST, the song also goes. He opens car doors, he sends bouquets of flowers, cute little notes on your chocolate box. My teenage romance books have always been about blonde football-star college hunks with brooding good looks, JUST SHOOT ME...please? Anyway, back to the topic, what would stop us from having him on the plate if he offers it? For an Asian woman, that also spells, financial security (not necessarily true), a chance to trot around the globe, and a beautiful product of love - a eurasion kiddo. He is a dream – the only difference is that, he prays to the wrong god.

One friend has already signed her life away on a document for the sake of marriage. I feel hugely responsible for that because I have introduced her to the world of Internet. There is nothing I can do to stop the marriage – I was last to know anyway. Some others have their hearts broken several times finding love in the web (it’s an irony!!!). How do you convince a friend who finally found her knight (not pahlawan), to dumb him because of Allah? No, not so easy, especially because, Allah just literally means God, but technically, practically, spiritually, HE is nowhere in sight.

‘He don’t want to convert’ would be the last thing I would worry about if I were her, but to her, and many other woman in the same position as her, it would mean, she cannot have him, or …worst, the alternative, I have to marry him in a civil court lah. (Darn, cannot invite relatives!) Many efforts have to be made to convince him to attend the Conversion Courses (if he agrees to convert for the sake of marriage so that the wife can invite her relatives to the wedding).

The only chance, is for her to learn to love Allah again. And when she sees how beautiful and great HIS love is, losing a Western man’s love, is not that big a deal. But no, the root of the problem is one’s own faith. Without knowing our Allah, without loving him, how can we ever convince our partners to join us in worshipping HIM? Do we really KNOW Allah? Sure, some of us don’t pray, don’t do what he says, so when the time comes to choose between HIM and something else, we will find it easy to do ‘something else’ as it’s not really a brand new idea anyway.

Can we make Allah central in our life’s decisions? It is not that hard. When Allah is our base for all of our decisions in life, you can’t want to be good; you want to be better, for there is no limit to the word ‘good’. If there are some disturbances in my life in anyway, I seek refuge in Allah. I seek refuge in HIM and seek HIS help, to be a better wife, a better mother, a better friend, a better daughter, better sister, and all the roles that he has made me, an actor in HIS stage, play…or more aptly, his humble servant.

Oh that devil, he wouldn’t spare a minute in trying to distract us. R just said that a friend who went to the Conversion Course told her how the people there were praying the wrong way. Based on that friend’s knowledge about how people should pray. So I explained to R about the 4 schools of thought that are acceptable according to the Sunnah Al-Jemaah. I recalled this feeling of resentment towards Islam that I used to have just as I was approaching it. I remembered reading some books I borrowed from the library, and getting upset because the Prophet had more than 4 wives, and how Islamic system is unfair towards woman. Astarafirghullahalazeem (May Allah forgive me). Whereas it was Islam which liberated women folk. Before Islam, woman were lowly regarded, were even killed alive whether they were a baby or toddler. There are other instances, where friends who were contemplating about coming back to the paths have told me, and that certainly have made them stray further away from the truth, instead of going to look for it. A’uzubillahiminashaitannirajeeem! (We even have to recite this during prayers) The devil is crafty.

If we think of Allah, even just sometimes, it is a sign that he loves us. It is a mercy from Him to us. We should be thankful for many things he gives us, but we brood over the things we don’t have instead. Why do we need to stall for time until we are ready (coz it might just be too late) to learn about Allah?

Being weak is not an excuse, its a challenge.

I wished I knew earlier.

Thinking – Not needed

2006-06-19T13:44:00.000+03:00

Are you one of those who give titles to your postings before you write them, or you give a title after it has been written? Well, I give them a title first because it summarizes my thoughts which are currently in my cluttered brain. However, there will be some instances where you find it hard to start of the first paragraph because you don’t know how to start penning them down.

Anyhow, I’m beginning to feel frustrated about being a home maker. No, not because it’s a boring mundane job, on the other hand, it is challenging and hard, making me think a lot harder lately on how unequipped I am at it. Time in my hands? How is that possible when I constantly feel that I’m walking on an area of landmines? One pin drop or loud typing on this keypad and I could be waking up one or both of my tired children – and there goes the precious private moments like this. Wait. Ahh, what was I saying? Ibni just woke up and I have to put him on my lap while typing this. Binti was cranky the past few days because of a high fever and she has been driving us up to the walls with her whines and cries.

In my late 20’s now (will be on the edge of my 20’s life soon), and trying very hard retain sanity amidst all the expectations of the modern world on bringing up ‘Smart Kids’. Very excited in the beginning, tried to do everything like how ‘the book says’. Got lots of ideas. Loads of practical exercises. Took awhile to realize that, I need them, because I don’t know how to. It’s as simple as that.

Have a peek into the life of a kid born in the 1970s. Women’s Liberation. Feminism. What men can do we can too, was the motto of that century. Women leave their natural job as a mother to go to work in factories. Men and Women are equal they say. And today, that brought the word feminism to a different level altogether too – ‘Gay’. Whilst women are busy competing with men instead of focusing on their own specialty and unique roles, they eventually forget the ‘how-to’s’ about doing the most fundamental thing in life after procreation – to be a mother. The irony is though; nothing can be done about women having to give birth!

So here I am, born to the parents of the 70’s – the years also related to pop stars, hippies, drugs, freedom. 30 years later, I am manufactured into believing that I must compete too. Aggressively. Which I did. But then now, I am here, what then? This is neither the 70s nor the new millennium, I am at least in the 50s (minus the horrid war and occupation). Back to scratch, trying to figure out what motherhood actually is. So help me God.

The society I was brought up in was fooled into believing that to be somebody, you have to have this or that. Now I find myself looking for ‘this’ and ‘thats’ on ebay to occupy my children’s time wisely. She is bored, bring in the Leap Pads. I need to work in the kitchen, oh, Where’s her favourite tv-show? The truth is, I don’t know where to begin. I get fidgety sitting around too long around my children because with the same amount of time in a conference room, I would have organized World Cup! I constantly feel by doing those things, I would have fulfilled my time well. Not sitting around with kids! I cannot do what used to be done so effortlessly by women of the 50s, and even those women today who do not have a case of dysfunctional childhood. What is it that they have that I don’t? Passion? Patience? The know-how?

While as a homemaker I cannot be more equipped with gadgets that help me with household chores - washing machine, dryer, a dishwasher, vacuum cleaner, etc etc, I am still looking for time. Amazing.

I try to analyze my children’s behavior, especially Binti, whom I’m having a little difficulty managing right now. She is bored because she does not get the attention that she needs. Even being around 24-7 does not mean that she has every second of it. I logically discuss her actions and effects with Habibi, hoping that he’d see my point. But he is already too busy and stressed about too many things, although he didn’t fail to be the doting father to her when he has the time, which means, sacrificing his few hours of sleep.

I secretly envy mothers who seem to do the job effortlessly, without putting too much stress on their children, who seems to be so natural at it, and you’d think she never had to yell at her child ever because they are ever so gentle and polite. The truth is, our children, reflects us. That truth hurts. It means that my history has an effect on them. It means that even though I swore not to treat them like how I’ve been treated, I have no control over it. (Oh, you don’t have to call the Police, I don’t abuse my children ;), on the contrary, I feel abused!) With a lot of effort; I only manage to not do what I dislike to do, but try as I might, I cannot do what I’m supposed to. It’s just unnatural. Or is it because I’m doing too much thinking?

While money can buy rewards or gifts as a temporary solution to temporary whining, it cannot buy what I never had before – the understanding of a relationship between a mother and child. The mother that people write about in books or poems, that people paint with lots of love. The one that makes your eyes wet when you speak about them in their absence. The one you want to talk and share your problems with whenever you feel like. The one who would hurry to you when you fall. One who never tires to advise, to listen. The one who prays for you when you’re in trouble.

The one whom I never had a picture taken with.

Ich hab keine ahnung!

2006-05-26T15:35:00.000+03:00

Oh dear. Do I have time for this? Ok, short entry hopefully to summarize what's been going on. Whilst 'ibni'(my son) is asleep and binti (my daughter) is enjoying her Barney, her first after almost 1 week ban.

I so desperately want to get the momentum going, like keep doing the things I use to do with Binti, but its so not possible. How can that be when I usually have to slurp through my meals when I hear the younger one cries or when the older one shows boredom in her 2-year old-I'm a terrible-terrible-two tantrumatic way. Have to take the advice of the more experienced one, multi-tasking- it'll soon be so normal that I may even have a tea-break complete with my own-baked cake. But right now, I do miss my afternoon naps, especially since Binti stopped having hers, thus I have no excuse to be lying down next to her and fall asleep.

Neways, we thought of sending Binti to attend some playgroups, seeing her need to socialize. Despite my reservations about the groups being in German, I relent, and so we went to see a school near us. Too bad, all places are taken up, and even if there is a place, they would prioritize working mothers, so there goes our chance to send Binti for a couple of hours a day. We went to another one, but it was totally a babysitting club and not as organised as the one we saw earlier. Here babies and toddlers are sent in anytime the parents wishes, so its not going to be very suitable for Binti either, but we did a try-out and left her for one-hour whilst we go grab our groceries from Erlangen. Ah-hah..guess who cried? Silly old ME! I felt so bad about sneaking out without saying 'bye', and tried to talk Habibi out of this idea of sending her to a playgroup (which they aren't anyway). Since the other more organised school has no place for her, I don't see why I should send her away to be baby-sitted by some strangers. Ok, so she was happy being left for that hour, and to my surprise, didn't even cry! Budak nih, kita nangis kan dia...dia tak ingat kita pun!

Ibni is such a lovely child-like most mothers would say about theirs-he slept through the night and wakes up only once for feeding and diaper change, except on certain nights where I must have stuffed myself with brocolli or too much chilli and garlic. But he is growing into such a beautiful child, his cheeks all puffed up with all the wholly nutritious milk he's been getting. He is even trying to communicate and my, how it melts my heart when he gives me his smile or a little 'coo'ing and 'aah'ing..so so lovely. It's easier to predict ibni as he is the 2nd child, so I can attend to his cries immediately, knowing instantly if its wind or its his pampers that needs to be changed. Needless to say, I'm having the time of my life...oh it has not been all rosy. I'm physically tired and my back needs some medical attention which I don't quite have time for right now.

But I don't know where I'm getting the extra energy to be doing extra work like designing (being paid this time!), coordinating websites and other stuffs. It's great though. I've never been so fulfilled - all my time is onto doing something useful - which is much more I can say for myself than when I was actually 'working'. Habibi and I consider it a luxury if we can have a straight 4 to 5 hours of sleep! And its almost impossible now with the longer daylight due to spring/summer.

The weekend's weather forecast is not so good, so there goes our plan to bring the kids to the zoo. We are also planning to move to another house, with an extra room, a garden and a bigger kitchen! Already seen one potential house nearby, but still deciding. We may or may not take it. All depends on what's going to happen in the next couple of weeks. Basically, I'm avoiding all kinds of conversations because simply, there is nothing concrete to tell.

Ich hab keine ahnung... (I have no idea!)

Miracle of Birth Part 2.

2006-05-01T11:27:00.000+03:00

2 years ago, the first delivery wasn’t at all smooth. Firstly, I was frustrated with the skin allergy that erupted during that pregnancy which left permanent scars till now. Secondly, I was not prepared, no not because I’m a first-timer, but because, that trip to the hospital was for a 2^nd opinion, I totally did not expect to be warded, induced and then in the midst of it all, forced to sign papers to say that I’m totally responsible should anything go wrong when I opt for Epidural and a C-Section operation possibility. I refused the sign the 2^nd one as I truly wanted a natural birth, and secondly but more importantly, I was really afraid of the word ‘Operations’ and know that if anything that can go wrong, it almost always does with me. There was I lying on the bed in pain, and then accusations flew across the room to me that sounded like ‘You are going to kill your child if you don’t sign this’…it was the first accusation (of many more to come) that I’m not a good mother from Day 1. Maybe I wasn’t, because that was probably the first time in my life where I have to make a decision about my body, for someone else. Someone, I don’t even know…yet. I took Epidural at the advice (or insistence) of the medical staffs, which caused me more pain than relief, as it was inserted wrongly in my spine (what did I say about things going wrong?) and thus, was adding to the pain I already had of uterus contractions. The anesthesia team came an hour (after their rounds) later to remove the wrongly inserted catheter and replace it. Soon, my left leg became numb and I remembered some fine lines in that paper I signed which mentioned that ‘paralyze’ could be one of its side-effect. Oh yes, I was thinking the worst, it was the state of mind that I chose to be constantly in, since I got married and left my homeland to a totally foreign one. But nevertheless, she came into this world. Helpless and innocent, but yet, I wasn’t quite ready to be a part of her. Breastfeeding caused me so much pain as she was literally pushed to my breast every time she wakes up with people around me telling ‘She is hungry, feed her’ despite my cries of the blisters that I was suffering from my child’s eager sucking. There was no one from my family to tell me ‘It’s allright, the pain will go..you will be fine’, and there was definitely no one to tell me that the milk don’t come until the 3^rd or 4^th postpartum days!!! I was in pain, but no one bothered. She lost weight (and all baby does) and I was blamed.

It took me awhile to digest what was happening to me. When you’re single, you only care for yourself..and then you get married, you love someone, but you also expect that person to love and care for you.. but when you have a baby, that’s when you really grow up. You love because you love, not for anything back. And yes, oh yes, I grew to love my baby so much that I can give up anything I have for her. I will feel hurt is someone says something bad about her. I would starve so that she eats. I would die if she would live. Suddenly all lyrics in those teenage love songs I used to hear made so much sense, it is as if I understood the real meanings of love, for the first time.

Pic of Salma 2 winters ago.

These are the lyrics of Gloria Estafan’s song that she wrote for her daughter Emily.

ALONG CAME YOU

I thought that I knew all there was to know
I knew all about love
I lived the highs and made it through the lows
I knew all about love
But now I must admit I'm surprised
And feel I've only scratched the surface
'Cause baby when I look in your eyes
I understand my one true purpose
You were sent to me
By angels up above, I'm certain
I thought I'd show you what love can be
But what did I know
Until along came you
To teach me about love
Oh yes, along came you
To teach me about love
And as this feeling grows with every day
You awaken my heart
A heart so full I fear that it may break
If we're ever apart
And though one day you'll be own your own
You know I always will be near you
As near as on the day you were born
Call on me, you know I'll hear you
You were sent to me
For one reason, I can tell you
You're here to show me what love can be
'Cause what did I know
Until along came you
To teach me about love
Oh yes, along came you
To teach me about love
Thula thula sana
U mama uyeza
Thula Thula sana
Thula thula sana
U mama uyeza
You were sent to me
By angels up above, I'm certain
You're here to show me what love can be
'Cause what did I know
Until along came you
To teach me about love, oh
Oh yes, along came you
To teach me about love
Teach me about love
Oh yes, along came you
Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby, baby
Teach me about love
Baby, baby teach me about love
Oh yes, along came you

Miracle of Birth Part. 1

2006-04-21T14:49:00.000+03:00

Alhamdulillah. I am once again grateful to the creator and Lord of the Alamin. I have safely given birth to the son I´ve been waiting for, for 9 months. My precious son whom we decide to name Khalid Ibn Walid, after the great warrior of Islam. We hope, inshaallah, he will serve Islam the same way the great Khalid Ibn Walid did during the time of our Prophet Muhammad s.a.w.
On the 11th April morning at 6am, the alarm goes off for us to wake up for Fajr. It woke my Binti too, and Habibi went to her room to check on her while I got up to use the toilet. Before I could go, I felt water gushing out of me, twice, involuntarily. It was not like the Bladder Incontinence that I was suffering throughout the pregnancy because I would only have wet myself when I cough or sneeze. This time, it leaked out without any help. I am not sure what it was, but after going to release myself, I did not find anything to cause alarm. Perhaps I was looking for some bloody show or mucus that would probably be the correct sign to look out for. Nevertheless, I told my husband about it, and then, went through my pregnancy books to check up on what I have just experienced. After quickly skimming through 2 of my pregnancy bibles, I am sure it was ruptured membranes, and the water was indeed from my womb. It was definitely a sign that labour has began, and within 10-24 hours I should be delivering. I wasn't sure what to do. I called Mak who assured me that once the pain intensifies and contractions became rapid, I could go to the hospital that evening. But I´m also sure that when she meant evening, it was afternoon for me, as she might have not noticed our time difference. Since it was too early to wake Binti, I got on the internet to chat with a couple of friends and announcing happily that I have leaked and preparing to go to the hospital. Tak caya, tanya the one and only Kak Teh!

At around 8.30 am, Habibi called the Gynae Clinic and spoke to my Doctor who told us to go to the hospital immediately. My contractions were mild and bearable, so I wasn't really in a hurry, afterall, the hospital is only 5 minutes away. Once at the hospital, I was informed that the cervix have dilated to 1cm. I got everything with me except the most important document, my medical & birth record book. Habibi took my shoe-less Binti back home to look for the document and to change her. On his way home, I smsed to a friend (Kak Asiah) that I am already in the hospital, and she took the initiative to come immediately to Habibi's rescue to babysit Binti, so Habibi would'nt miss the action. He came back to the hospital without Binti or the document, so I insisted that I go back and look for it, since there is no other way (or as Kak Asiah puts it.."Men, they can never find anything!) . The doctor and the nurses was informed and I assured them that I could manage with the contractions and it will only take awhile since we live so near. It was around 10.30am and when I came home, Kak Asiah was there with Binti Salma who seemed preoccupied with her Barney tv show. I found the document I needed and took a few other things and decided to bring Salma with us since I feel there is still a long way to go before delivery. I wanted Salma to be with me for as long as possible before the time comes and told Kak Asiah we will call her when the time is nearer.

We came back to the hospital and I got settled again in my hospital bed. There is little I could do now, except wait, and occasionally, the doppler test has to be done to check the condition of the baby in the womb. Everything seems ok, little Khalid seems to be doing well insde. I just loved the waiting room that they do-up for mothers in labour. It was a very well dressed room with a huge poster bed, a couple of gymnastic balls, a rocking chair, a cd player and a collection of soothing cd collections to help ease the wait. I didn't need any of that as silence works best for me under such stressful conditions. Habibi could stay with me there and he held my hand and gave me support during every painful contraction as I struggled to breath in and out, to ease the pain. Not long after, our friends Adam & Houda came to check on us at the hospital . Adam took off from work and volunteered to babysit Salma for the rest of the day. We cannot believe our good fortune and rezki from Allah, who made it all so simple for us that day. Houda had to work till 3pm, when she came back, she had a tupperware of fruits with her for me. She wanted to see for herself what labour is like, being pregnant herself and will go through it in August inshaallah. I wasn't exactly wearing the proper clothes for delivery, but hey, I thought the hospital was suppose to provide all these. Habibi wanted to go home and get me something, but I preferred that he stayed by my side. Houda went back to my home where Adam, her husband was, babysitting Salma. But in less than half an hour she came back, with a new set of knee length pyjama for me which I believe she bought from town, so I put it on, and wore it for the rest of the day.

Too good to be true!

2006-04-14T18:53:00.000+03:00

Alhamdulillah, Praises be to HIM, the Creator and Lord of the Alamin. I have survived the ordeal of yet another natural labour - this time without Epidural! My son, Khalid Ibn Walid was finally born on the 11th April 2006..so much to tell, so little time. Will update once I have my house in order! (Habibi and binti had a party the past few days whilst I wasn't home).

Here is the latest addition to the family...

And this is a present I got from habibi for the the job well done! Hehehe

Now the only thing I need...more surfing hours... if that is even possible!

Till later.. Thanks for all the well wishes, prayers and kind thoughts.
Love you all. :)

http://www.swordofallah.com/

Water leaking....? Or is it?

2006-04-11T08:03:00.000+03:00

Salma woke me up when the alarm goes off. Habibi went to her room to check on her. Me, I got up wanting to pee, as usual at this time of the night, my bladder is always full and pressing on me. But this time, I felt water came out of me ..twice. I didn't know what was it. It is clear...not bloody, not green mucus ... hmmm... should I be alarmed? My gynae has proven many times she is quite useless (she messed up the due dates..and if she messed up the gender also..nanti Habibi nak gi tembak dia), so I opened up my pregnancy books instead. Ok, so labour will begin anytime within 24 hours, but if it doesn't I'll have to be induced so as to avoid infection.

Habibi will be at home staying by my side in case anything happens. As I'm typing this, I'm still leaking. I just called my very own midwife, my Mak. We will be heading to the hospital soon. I just hope I won't be induced.. not a very nice experience, from my first labour.

Please pray for me friends & family.
Please pray for my baby.

Salam

Somebody stop me!!!

2006-03-31T15:48:00.000+03:00

I really dunno what telah happen. It seems that everybody around me is either eating or cooking or blogging about food. Friends here also complain the same, they've been eating non-stop, especially the much-missed Asian food.

Last weekend I actually whipped up Hyderabadi Mutton Briyani Dum! Was I complaining of backache from standing too long? That didn't seem to stop me as I prepare Vegetable Sambhar, Fried Black Pepper Popedum and Cucumber Raitha. Too much food for 2 and a toddler, so I made habibi call his kakis and we all enjoyed the Indian cuisine that evening. 8pm was a little bit late for dinner, but it was last minute and it was rezeki and baraqah from Allah. Alhamdulillah, it was more than enough for all the 5 of us.

Then I found my favourite Kuay Teow Noodle (dried) at the Asian Shop!!! Alamak, bahagia tak terkata. I browsed the Internet quickly for the recipe to Beef Hor Fun, and made Habibi make a trip to the grocery store to get Corn Flour on his way home for lunch. He was in a hurry and needed to go back to work urgently, but after tasting the delicious, freshly made Cai Xin-carrots-mushrooms-tauge-loaded Chinese-style Beef Noodle, he just couldn't stop! I'm really excited because that means I could make this recipe regularly, since its so simple! But I playcheat lah, I didn't even give him the Kuay Teow! I made his with Fettucine instead! Muahahaha. Alah, not that he appreciates Kuay Teow like I do, buang current je. In the evening, I gave him the same thing whilst I made my K.L style Kuay Teow Goreng that I used to have at Batu Caves, where my mom used to live. OOOooh Heaven on earth lah. One of those instances where I'm sure, mak mertua lalu pong tak sedar nuuuhhhh!

Yesterday, I gave Habibi a break from my Asian-fascination since he was also fasting. I promised him I will make him Arabic/Mediterranean dishes on his fasting days. So I made

Tu rkish Bulgur Pilaf (kinda like rice), Shish Taouk (Grilled garlic chicken), Kofta kebab

(Minced meat Kofta) and my very own invention of Aubergines baked in Tomate Sauce, which I call, Shortcut Moussaka.

Luckily I was watching closely when my turkish friend, Tugca was here and prepared the Bulgur Pilaf and Kebab. Must record the recipe online someday, before the scribblings I made in my notebook with my felt pen dissappears! We still have plenty of leftovers from yesterday's dinner for Habibi and Binti, but I was already craving for Assam Pedas Ikan Sembilang with Bendi and needed to do something with the Kangkung I bought 2 days ago.
Also got some leftover firm tofu from the Lontong I made last Saturday (did I mention that?), so perhaps can make tahu telor later kalau rajin. Crazy or not?

Too bad my camera is cranky these days, so I cannot take all of the pictures of the food that I've been stuffing my face in recently. But, not to worry, I'm sure I will be whipping them soon again! Muahaha...

Oh somebody ...stop me!!!! or ermm..Join me laahh

Simple Pleasures

2006-03-27T12:42:00.000+03:00

I didn't realise it was that hard to leave the house for just 3 hours without habibi and binti. It was Sunday and habibi could babysit binti, whilst I prepare myself to go swimming! Yes swimming!

The ladies committee at the mosque have organised this event and Alhamdulillah, it is a successful one! I couldn't go last week becase we had guests in the house and the pool wouldn't admit those who comes late, and I was a bit dissapointed because I could not help be in those numbers of muslim women who turned up, because that would ultimately affect the decision as to whether the Ladies' weekly swimming session will be continued or not. Also, I'm in the last month of pregnancy (still???) and soon I'll miss out on the indoor swimming sessions until they come back again (hopefully) in the next Winter.

Sometime late last year, I heard about a similar session for Ladies' at the indoor pool near me. Very excited, I packed and changed and brought Binti with me with 2 other Moroccan friends. At the gate, we were told that NO children are allowed. Ooi, it's Wednesday afternoon, who can I leave her to? It was only a 2 hours session but poor Binti had to wait outside whilst the 'ladies' go swimming. My kind friends rotate shifts to take care of Binti so that I could waddle. The dissapointment did not end there, after entering the pool, I realised the life guard is a Man (nobody said it was for Muslim ladies kan?), although I'm covered in a head to feet swimmng gear, I find his presence intrusive. Oh that's not all, the swimming pool can actually be seen by every person as it is separated from the entrance by a see-through glass. In the pool, I decided to swim by the edge of the Olympic size pool, simply because I have had leg cramps and wouldn't risk getting cramps in the middle of the deep pool...but I was told off by ladies that if I can swim, I shouldn't be swimming at the edge and that I should swim in the centre lane! I tried explaining about my leg cramps, but it didn't work..this is Germany...who am i kidding.. how can i even TRY to change things here!

Oh wait, ada lagi! When I was going for shower, I realise that it is a pretty common sight to have naked women (and men I assume) walking around in the changing/shower area. That I can take, having been a member of Clark Hatch Fitness before and quite used to seeing some 'pompan mat sallehs' from the hotel liberally walking around without their towels. But individual shower rooms have NO doors? The men's shower is also just next door, well....there isnt' really anything that separates the two of them except a few walls and a sign.

But yesterday, everything was organised differently. When I reached the sports centre, many other hijabis were already waiting in line to get in. There were also photographers from the newspapers and students doing surveys on the event. Children voices were everywhere, and they seemed as excited as their mothers and sisters. It was chaos. It was like being outside of stiff, prim and systematic Germany for 2 whole hours! But it was great. Seeing happy smiling faces everywhere is really refreshing than seeing glum-looking-old-german-hags who keep watching your every move and your rather different swimming gears.

With my potruding belly, I float easily in the olympic size pool yesterday, for once, forgetting how heavy I have become. As I have not swam for a long time, I decided to go for 'frog stlye' slow and easy. Everytime I dip my head in for a few seconds, I could easily notice the silence of the deep water, but as soon as I come up for air and intervals, I could hear chatters and laughters - like this... Quiet 1,2,3 secons..then Breathe go up ..Noise- Haleiuezafhuvzuzfewzfwezvggerkgurwv in various languages, then Quiet 1,2,3 seconds, and Noise again... It was amusing. Most ladies did not even cross the 1.35m mark, which is the swimmers' mark. They were all merely soaking at edge of the pool, but the looks on their faces, are priceless.

After 1.5 hours of swimming, me and Houda, my moroccan buddy got up to change. How delighted I am to find a door(!!!) at the individual shower rooms! I can't believe how having a door has become a luxury! Subhanallah.

But I paid a price for going out when I realised my appointed baby sitter did not put my Binti to her much-needed afternoon nap! She only slept when I came home and with the new time change, I know both of us wouldn't be getting any sleep that night. Macam nak cekik2 orang tua tu...why oh why must he disrupt our flow of the norm? Should I go next week and risk having a bad monday morning???? I think I will lah.. kalau belum beranak ...heheh..

p.s : My gynae told me my date of due is back again to April, and not March as she earlier thought. So she basically buat I penat lah cuci baju baby, pasang katil baby, cadar, preparing his car seat, prams etc!!!

Panjang Umurnya Serta Mulia...

2006-03-23T17:00:00.000+03:00

She is one of my dearest online friends, one that I respect and love and have had the pleasure to know since being in Germany. She welcomed me almost immediately by starting a thread when I sign up at Rantauan.com, where I have met many more nice people from all over the world and reconcilliated with old buddies. Then, as fate designed it, I was given a chance to travel to London for my 26th birthday and could meet her personally. She encouraged me to write, and then overnight, I became a writer and wrote my first article for BH Singapore on Raihan who was then performing in London. Later, we wrote together for an online islamic magazine. When I gave birth to my precious first daughter, she was amongst the first to call and congratulate and could sense my nervousness on being a new mom.

There are many special moments, especially when we decided to start blogging at almost the same time. We stumbled and fumbled over html codes and later proudly helped others by putting up their personalized banners. Then we got tired of it. Heheh. Occasionally, we pull the legs of our other online friends, teasing them endlessly one after another and that brought all of us closer, eventhough, technically, we're far.

So here is my humble tribute to a wonderful lady I know as Kak Z or Kak Teh on her very special day. May Allah bless her and all those around her. Thank you for the friendship. Thank you for being a wonderful 'makcik' or 'kakak' that you are to me, and to many others.

Gambar masa jumpa kat London dulu. Masa tu, I'm at least 20kg lighter!!!

Becareful what you wish for

2006-03-06T10:06:00.000+03:00

Just had a funny conversation with a friend today. Actually, 'funny' can be misleading, since he is afterall, THE Dr. Bubbles a.k.a Clown Doctor a.k.a volunteer worker who is endlessly pursuing his dreams and his superstar crush, Siti Nurhaliza. If you're interested in him, ..ehem..I mean, reading about his life and adventures, apalagi, go here. I kept thinking, if we've met 6-7 years ago, we could have been great buddies! Who knows, if my path is not what it is today, I would have been the one match-making him and her in a very cool uptown cafe in Sentul..haha... However fate has different plans, and though we occasionally tease and pull the legs of our common 'online' friends since 3 years of friendship with our Bilik Berita Basi spoofs, we have not met.

Today I asked him, his plans, because after 3 years, I know he is not one who sits still. In 3 years, he has been to Laos, Iran, U.S and dunno God knows where else for humanitarian efforts or learning about them. I secretly envy him. Though what he does and lived for will never give him a worldly comfort enough to woo the girl of his dreams, he still lives on his passion and love for his job. If he had been a millionaire, he would have been a bankrupt the next day splurging on various charity organisations or simply travelling around the world to be amongst the needy, the hurt, the helpless, the ones who would really appreciate his sense of comedy and yet will not offer him a penny for it.

What do we have in common? A crazy sense of humour, that's about it? I may have been a theatre/tv commedianne sometime back in my life, but it was not worth anything till I find out about what he does. We both do the same thing, basically, we make people laugh. But while I may have done it out of my own selfish needs of seeking attention, to try to get a producer to notice me, popularity and sometimes good money to live on, he literally does the opposite. He didn't need to seek attention because his audience needs his instead. He didn't need any producer because he is not aiming for a tv role, he is not doing it to get popular, because those places where he performs, they only know him for a day and he is definitely not looking for money for himself for as I've said, he would have given it away.

So it is unfair or shameless of me, to even measure myself to this friend of mine, whom I've had the pleasure to be acquainted with. Yet, we find similiarites in each other today. In the early morning our chat was centred around the topic of Inner Peace. Somehow I felt I could understand where he is heading, and upon further probing, we realised that we're individuals who needs constant stimulations or struggles in life in order to attain ..a peaceful state of mind. That also means, living AWAY from our natural surroundings and environment, will help us thrive as a whole person.

I'm actually now facing a dilemma. There is a saying that goes..'Becareful what you wish (doa) for', and I am a firm believer of this phrase. I know Allah grants all wishes, whether immediately or not, and I've come to realise that we don't neccessary know what is Best for us, and it's best to leave the wishes - an open-ended request. I wouldn't say, 'Oh Allah, please grant me this and this..' because I will have no idea if what I want, is good for me. There were times in my youth where I thought I knew better and wished for something so definite and clear, and when it did came true, it didn't work out in the end. It was HIS great sign of my destiny and sealed fate, things I was never meant to have, but Allah gave it to me anyway because I've asked for it for myself. I finally learnt my lesson, and my first 'open-ended' doa was made in a mosque in Singapore during a zikr session on 22nd August 2002. On this day, I knew my friendship with my newly-met Egyptian friend was going to end. He was going to leave in a week or so, and I knew I have no control over it. It was also my first zikr session with the Nashqbandi group and it was so soulful and enlightening that my eyes were wet throughout the session. At the end of the session, I made a simple prayer. For the first time in my life, it wasn't selfish or self-centred by asking for specific things that I so badly want, but I let Allah decide. I asked silently 'Oh Allah, if he is meant for me, make it easy for us, but if he is not, please make it easy for me to forget him'. And Allah is indeed The All-Knowing, All-hearing, and I can never forget the goosebumps or the silly girlish flush on my face when Habibi proposed at the gate of the mosque that very same night.

And so now ..I have to be honest with myself. Allah has given us some options to consider and one of them is a lucrative offer to be back on my familiar turf, homeland. This offer has not yet materialised, but I'm naturally excited to be so close to my family members, especially Mak, because I feel I owe so much to her and would like to be by her side . I feel that I need to brush up my relationship with my natural parents and siblings, whether they are interested or not. And there will be a lot of opportunites for learning religion and be involved in so many activities. BUT, is this a good choice for me? Would it be ok for me to ask Allah to grant this to me...or should I, again, trust HIS judgement and let HIM decide instead? Because if I'm truthful with myself, I know homeland has its abundance of distractions in store for me, and I may fail to balance the peace that I've recently found and the buzz and excitement of being in a familiar surroundings. A few times I've noticed how 3 weeks of vacation zoomed by and by the end of it, I wasn't quite satisfied with how I've spent it. The last time when I can say that I am nearly there, many people were not, thinking that I've been too absorbed with my life to give some time for them.

Would this opportunity be good for me, Allahuallam, only Allah knows Best. I dream about this all the time, and yet at the same time, I'm also worried that I may change - anticlockwise. I don't want to be absorbed with the the very things that I've been cured of. I don't want to get distracted with the endless meetings and outings, I don't want to go back to watching TV series or reality tv in the evening because I never need to here. I don't want to listen to anything but praises gloryfying Allah. Will my husband and children be eating from the food I make for them or wouldn't it be easier to get someone else do it? Will I still open the door when my husband comes home from work? Will I even be there? Will I still be interested in educating and nurturing the developments of my own children or enrol them in a fancy some-difficult-to-pronounce-not-to-mention-expensive childcares? Can I really escape the buzz and fuss of the city, retain my sanity and remain the person I am today?

I doubt, but then Allahuallam. HE knows best, and if my 'wish' comes true, I'll let HIM guide and protect me from myself.

Anxiety Attack!

2006-02-28T14:51:00.000+03:00

Ok, here we go. The official 9th month of pregnancy, 3rd trimester, labour almost due.. unfortunately, unpredictably anytime from now. Scared? Nervous? Excited? Anxious? But can't turn back the clock, there is only ONE road to go, and that is to the delivery room. It doesn't help that my must-have-chocolates-phase-everyday-in-whatever-form has just started. There is also the can't-eat-anything-but malay food-phase going on since returning from Egypt. What is a girl to do? (Girl konon --- dah jadi mak budak pun!)

Invite friends over for an asian meal of Lemak Nenas Ikan Sepat Cili Api and Sambal Tumis Petai Udang (got Petai in Germany, Donch pray pray!), with condiments of keropok udang, sambal belachan, cucur and serunding lah - which was flown in 2 weeks ago by my beloved Mak. Wished I had them phtographed, but these days digicam is not working properly due to the 'gentle treatment' it gets from Binti. But alah, I'm not the best cook in the world, but alhamdulillah, everything turned out 'boleh-tahan' for a kampung food novice. It has been a never-ending feast of Authentic home-cooked Asian food for me, listing from Laksa, Mutton Curry, Mee Goreng, Sambal Tumis Sardin, Epok2, and boy, can't remember what else. Poor Habibi and Binti lah because on days like those, they will only get something simple I can whip up quickly, usually soup dishes, since they can't join me and my chillied companies. And that's not all, after being here awhile, some of that cup-of-tea-piece-of-cake European culture has also rubbed on me greatly. We have guests over weekends pretty often and usually its an invitation for dinner or cakes! Alamak, never liked baking before but today, can proudly say that I've conquered the Pecan Nuts Brownie, Cheesecake, Carrot Cake, Apple Pudding Cake and this afternoon, have attempted to make Chocolate Hazelnut Cookies. Yesterday, I finally bought a muffin baking tray which was going on half-price and am patiently waiting for the best berries season before I start whipping the aromatic dough. Aiyoh, a whole paragraph on food, not very like me to talk about food non-stop. This is bad. Very bad. Doesn't help that I'll have quite a baggage to get rid of after delivery!!! (Inshallah)

Ohh, is there a link between Anxiety and food that I read somewhere before? Perhaps. I hope the tiny one inside is doing well with cili padis and sweetened chocolates...erm.

So When? How? What? Who? And all those questions expectant mothers have inside their heads just before THE day. Natural or not? Painkillers or not? Baby's head in the right position or not? Why doppler tests not as frequent as the first pregnancy? In fact, even gynae visits are only once a month, not in every 2 weeks at the end of pregnany, like last time, why? How to breathe during contractions? I can hardly remember how, must call the Hebamme (midwife) for some last minute breathing classes. Back aching like crazy, also not like the first pregnancy. Just being in any position for more than 10 minutes is terribly uncomfortable. Heavier, clumsier, more forgetful are just a few things that comes with it.

Already bought 2 sets new baby boy's clothes- that was fun and took the stress out of delivery anxiety quite a bit. Looking at the very cute little blue-stripped shirt with a tiny brown woolen knitted vest over it, is very refreshing after lots of Binti's pinks and flowers.

Been praying everyday for a safe delivery for both 'Adik' and me. Pray for me too friends, :) cos, though I'm a big girl now, I'm still quite scared...

Bismillah

2006-02-21T13:04:00.000+03:00

Assalamualaykum warahmatullahi wabarakatuh

Aloha, and welcome to the new face of MakNenek. A whole year of blogging has brought me to this which frankly speaking I'm grateful for, as I'm threading on my journey with a whole new perspective, inshaallah.

Once a Morroccan friend told me that the world is separated into 2, those who eat rice and those who eat bread. That analogy can be shared with chillies and tomatoes too! I for one, am a freak for anything hot and spicy, and a week long break without them could be bearable, saved by tiny packets of takeaway fast food's chilli sauce tucked in my purse. Yes, I carry chilli sauce in my purse, and on longer trips, perhaps a whole bottle of it. Yet, I'm married to someone from a continent where its milder counterpart Tomatoes, raved in the kitchen and will not tolerate any of my chillifying expeditions. Though our differences did not stop at our inter-gallactic appetites, still, we're one and equal. I have come to believe that differences broadens one's mind, tests one's patience and will bring one to another level of human understanding and greater capacity to love. A song goes, To know him is to love him. Or shouldn't it be the other way around?

3 years later, a lovely daughter fills our lives with joy and happiness, and we're about to receive another bundle very soon, inshaallah. 2 years ago, I was nervous at being a mother, unsure what it's all about and was too careful to let my emotions take the better of me, yet today, I'm anxiously anticipating the arrival of yet another of Allah's gift, already embracing him with lots of love and picturing a positive future together.

Time does miracles to a person. It heals wounds. It gives hope. It promises life. Alhamdulillah, for everything that HE gives and HE takes.

I don't know what my life will look like comes March, but I'm optimistic that though every new phase maybe tough, I'll only be a stronger, better person when things settle down and I'll once again find balance in my everyday life and then life, goes on, as they always do.

Welcome back, and thanks for hanging around :)

Let them do the talking...

2006-02-07T13:52:00.000+03:00

Surviving EGYPT Ep. 2 Season 4

2006-01-24T21:07:00.000+03:00

2nd week :
Habibi left us the whole day today unlike last week when he leaves for the office later and comes home earlier. This week, the seminar started, so 8-9 hours of waiting for him can be a torture if not for my new-found hobby - decorating our apartment. He didn"t even have time to come up afterwards and had me wait by the main road so that we can run off straight to the office. I didn"t even realise the time went by, but now I"m typing on one of the PC's available to waste the time away while he interviews a new potential staff. Binti finally got tired fell asleep so I put her on 2 office chairs facing each other.

Tonite, we will finally be getting our new mattress and will be moving into my freshly painted apartment. Drama is brewing up in the apartment above and below us. For those who don't quite understand this living arrangement, I can only describe our house like that of a shophouse apartment. Habibi"s family has invested on this plot of land and have built 3 levels of apartments on it. There are other apartments besides ours. They rented out the ground floor to a guy who makes arabesques wood carvings. I only see young boys working in it, as apparently, these intricate carvings can only be made by fine hands. Except on one occasion where Habibi almost sued the man for not paying rent for the last 2 years, I hardly see them at all.

Now BIL has moved in with his new bride on the apartment above us. Soon I'll be exposed to the customs, some I find a little bizarre. For the next 7 days, the newly-wedded couple is to spend it only at home. Food comes in big baskets being carried on top of the heads of the girl's relatives to her everyday. But the first day after their first night, was the most crucial day of all. It was not the night of nikaah as I first thought. It is the night after the big wedding ceremony in the hotel. (2 days after nikaah). After the event, the couple was ushered to their apartment by close family members. The next morning, they were expected to have spent the night (erm, together). The bride is supposed to hand in a cloth stained with her virginal blood to her MIL who will then give it to her mother. Just hearing about this tradition made me feel awkward, so I can only understand it when the next day, news was traveling within our house that the bride was still untouched. It was not a big deal in our house as it was with the bride's family. Her mother came with her husband and his 2 other wives to claim her glory but left hurriedly, disappointed and annoyed at both the bride and groom. She came back in the evening only with her husband, got what she wanted to know and left, not so pleased for missing her chance to boast earlier on. I sympathize with the poor young bride, with all the pressure on her, I really could understand why there was no performance.

3rd week
People say that marriage is contagious, and so it was little wonder that no sooner than a week after that, SIL got herself another proposal, this time, arranged by an Aunt from FIL’s side. I remembered on our last trip, Habibi turned down a proposal and that sent her straight to coma! Literally speaking. Due to her low blood pressure and the stress of potentially being left on the shelves (at 23 !!!), MIL found her on the floor refusing to respond. MIL quickly rushed to get a doctor from a nearby polyclinic whilst habibi tried his best to revive his beloved little sister. The doctor basically blocked air from her nose and mouth with his hands and that forced her to choke and respond. I was worried she might have swallowed an overdose amount of some cheap tablets, but Alhamdulillah, she didn’t. But she must have thought that the washing machine, oven stove and the whole lot of house equipments she has prepared herself with will be gone to waste when Habibi turned down the prospect. Girls here start collecting house stuffs as soon as they enter marriageable age, sometimes earlier with the help of well-meaning parents. Obviously, they don’t believe in saving the money in the banks because they didn’t realize that washing machines has only a 5 year guarantee period from the date of purchase! And good average looking, simple-minded, religious girls like SIL wait hopelessly for THAT proposal to come, as dating is a strict no-no.

Anyway, it was pure coincidence that Habibi is here this time to attend to her latest proposal. Nice young man with good religious background (he takes care of a local mosque), good education (law graduate), entrepreneur (has his own furniture company), and a son of the neighbour of their Aunt for years. He came only with his elder sister and the entourage of Aunt Nikmah’s family who came to support him. Habibi and me were out at that time but when we came home they were all waiting for the newly appointed ‘head of the family’. (Habibi officially took his father’s responsibility when he was asked to be the wakil for his brother’s nikaah). They were sitting in the formal living room area, where people actually sit on couches or decorative chairs with coffee tables for important discussions. Otherwise, this part of the house is barely touched as the main living room continues to be an informal set up of cushion pillows on a slightly raised wooden platform. Folks do everything here together; watch tv, talk, eat (eventhough technically they all own a grand 6-seater dining table) etc etc.

After some casual chit chats with everybody around, the woman moved to the informal living room to leave the men to talk. A few minutes later, the men leaves and SIL was invited into the formal living room where the young man was. They get to talk and get to know each other and see, at this point, if they are suitable enough for each other to move on. I get to witness all this on a very hungry tummy as dinner would have to wait until the guest leaves. I had to excuse myself to my apartment upstairs and leave the party as a hungry pregnant woman cannot be too participative, on top of the language barrier. When I came back down, I realized I missed a lot of important stuffs already. The initiation efforts by Aunty Nikmah’s entourage proved to be fruitful as the day of engagement was then set on Friday, which is like.. 3 days later! (And I thought me getting married 3 months after being proposed was bizarre!). SIL insisted that it be done whilst we were here therefore the great hurry. The young man knows what he wants and made his decision without hesitation and he will return to his home to inform his parents and elder siblings so as to make it official. So yesterday, I tagged along with MIL, SIL and the new wife of BIL to the gold shop near where the ‘fiance’ is living. At this point, the ‘bride-to-be’ will get to choose some rings for her engagement presents sponsored by her new ‘family’. Gold is much loved by the woman of Egypt and such a priceless possession, eventhough the quality and workmanship is ..erm..bad. Right after the purchases were made, MIL started yoddling, as women here do, as a sign of happiness and celebration.

There are many things to celebrate about this time on this trip to Giza. Firstly, I am glad that I survived the 3 weeks here without any clashes with Habibi. I guess making myself occupied with the renovating has helped a lot. Some days he came back from the seminar as late at 9pm and everybody has still not eaten waiting for him. (Most home cooked food here is baked, so it must be eaten together). Binti enjoyed herself tremendously especially when being carried on MIL’s shoulder when they go to the shop together. Now occasionally, I have problems asking her to walk down the stairs by herself. I find it very amusing how MIL can carry tons of stuffs on her head and still balance herself well. I’m pretty sure even supermodels at Elite were not trained to carry a gas cylinder and walk steadily.

We moved out of our new room earlier this week as the painting job continued. As forewarned by Habibi, it will not be finished by the time we leave at the rate these men are drinking tea more than doing actual work, but that’s ok. At least, I know I can look forward to more trips to Giza with all the ‘areas’ I can work on now. I’ve already choosen ceramics for the toilet and designed it myself and work will be done when we leave inshaallah.

Habibi got a few nice presents from his students at the seminar, who Alhamdulillah, appreciated his voluntary work and effort to save his country, people and Islam. May Allah accept his efforts and help them all, inshaallah. Ameen Ya Rabbanna Alameen. Yesterday was practically the last day we all have together (today is the official engagement day in the house, busy x 3) and so, I teamed up with the family to give Habibi an early-birthday surprise of an ice-cream cake complete with all 30 candles (I needed 2 more but would have to buy a whole packet of 10pcs), happy birthday songs in Arabic and English with everyone there. Alhamdulillah, he was pleasantly touched and even admitted to be almost moved to tears! I’m sure the best present of all for him from me, was my patience and understanding during the trip which he had prayed and hoped for. I’m glad I survived till the very last day with almost no problems at all. Alhamdulillah to the Creator. He made us weak, yet He made us see how he can help us when we are at our wits end if we believe and have faith in Him. I couldn’t have gone through this without His help. Shukur Alhamdulillah.

Surviving EGYPT Episode 1, Season 4

2006-01-22T18:25:00.000+03:00

(And the saga continues)

Alhamdulillah, it was been a week here in Egypt and things are looking good. This is a big deal considering the heated discussions and arguments we have had about me visiting again. First and foremost, I'm in the 8th month of pregnancy... and I really do not want a repetition of what happened during the last pregnancy. I came back with rashes, on almost everywhere on my body. Itcy red painful blisters that caused me sleepless nights, and about 2 weeks in hospital, and countless doctors appointments from every faculty u can imagine. Yup, even dental!

Secondly, I'm truthfully bored to death here especially because I'm mostly stucked at home and couldnt even tell someone that I"m hungry, and No, Thank You to Foul. I"m honestly uncomfortable because the apartment where we lived is basically undone, just bare walls with essentials that was dragged from the old house. Even the carpets are not glued on the floor because they are supposed to be temporary. His parents live a floor below us, and that's crowded already with his 2 other siblings.

Habibi insist on coming anyway because he has a moral obligation to fulfil to his alma mater University students by conducting a seminar to help them in their career later on. He also need to visit his office there. This is also why I hate to come to Egypt - erm, am I sounding selfish? But this is the only vacation he ever takes in the whole year, but I don't even see him around! And he left me, translation-less, hungry and without internet connection! So what should a faithful, filial, supportive wife do???

After months of discussions, arguments, fights, and so on so forth, we finally come to an agreement. First and foremost, the treat at Hurghada was a good move on his part to welcome me to Egypt all over again. Albeit it having to be a secret from his family (he doesnt like them to know that he was there when he could be here instead), it was a nice time for all 3 of us, in fact, the very first time we ever had a real holiday together as a family.

Secondly, if he is going to leave me alone all day, he should at least provide me with the amenities to do my own things for survival.. for example cooking! And so, months ago, when I saw an ad for a portable electrical stove, I didn't waste a minute.

And then, he finally also agreed that we could invest some money on the apartment so that its live-able (for me at least), and so I can spend my quiet time there reading, writing or just termenung lah, I need a nice backdrop for all these activities! And ta-da I packed at least 40kgs of house stuffs....and since we came, we have visited paint shops, ceramics shops and now men are busy working in our aparment. I've always wanted a parquet flooring, but the ceramics here are just too good to ignore, and so, I chose a parquet-wood-like design ceramics, and will have my walls painted in colours that I simply adore - dark reddish brown..muahahah... Yup, finally I can live in Egypt. I don't care if the donkey push-carts are just outside the house, or if we have chickens and ducks on our roofs, I finally, have my own little space, a space that I can be comfortable in. The work is still going on now, so I can't share yet what it will look like, but it will be done in a couple of days, inshaallah. Since the bricks and sand started coming in (oh i raised a few platforms in the room too), I"ve been so excited and watching its developments day by day. The ceramic job was done in a day only, and boy, it made the room looked much cleaner already. Whilst sitting in the other spare room, I doodled what our future toilet would look like, and have started lobbying my design to Habibi. At first he didn't even want to consider reconstructing the toilet we have, but somehow, he changed his mind, and yes, inshaallah, when we leave, work will start for our new toilet. Smaller, sleekier, modern, functional and easy to maintain. Inshaallah.

So finally, everything is coming together. It is much clearer to both of us when we understood what need to be done. Before, I was unhappy but couldn"t put a finger to it, and couldn't think of what to do about it. Habibi expected me to bear with it, afterall, its only 3 or so weeks of vacation! But he can never understand that being isolated and confined, is like being chained with an iron ball. Being handicapped from doing things I usually have access to, is frustrating and not to mention depressing. Language can be a barrier, but after being in Germany for awhile, I realise how (on top of it) a non-systematic and disorganised environment is even harder to cope with. I cannot take a bus and go to town if I want because its dangerous, I can get lost, I cannot seek help. It's not like we're living like expats here, we're surrounded in a lower income sub-urban area where its not likely to find processed kraft cheese. Occasionally MIL would freak out when she finds out how much I've been spending at the supermarkets here, and often compare them to her finds in the dingy street markets.

I've been to the local flea market recently. Fleas are what you can really find there. I can safely go in and out of the 1km market without spending a piaster, because nothing is worth it. Ladies sanitary napkins and babies pampers are sold in thrash bags for the women to pick out and buy. Cheap lipsticks and mascaras looked like they've been used before. Personal things like used baby bottles and pacifiers are being resold by poor peasants. If I do find something good enough, there are usually reject stocks made in China. Local products? None.

None of good local products are sold here in Egypt, they are all exported for overseas, what's left are mostly 2nd grade and below. That's what we were told by our ceramics supplier, we in fact, have floored our apartment with 2nd grade ceramics because the 1st grade ones are simply, not available. That goes also for food and vegetables.

And to help kill any chance of a competitive industry, big brands like Cadbury comes in to steal the big share of the market with their name. I bought one, and I knew straightaway that's not the Cadbury I used to have. Poorer quality products comes in the packaging of big names so that the local market could buy it, but it doesn't really matter if they are eating THE cadbury or not. So for very low price, Egyptians can buy Cadbury, but who cares whats inside it? At least, if another local company wants to compete, its dead before it can even start.

Well, thats a lot of bickering for today. We have a wedding to attend to. My BIL's. It will be more or less the same thing like what I"ve experienced at mine. A street wedding this evening complete with flashing lights and a D.j playing all the local favourites as the guest circles around the bride and groom while they belly dance. Lots of noise, actually, its just noise. This one's for the local neighbours and relatives, whereas tomorrow, at a medium sized hotel, another party is organised for friends and colleagues. And tonite, the bride and groom will start living together as husband and wife (though the nikaah was actually yesterday) in their newly built and overly decorated apartment just above ours.

I will be back to update.. Got a wedding to attend.

A step at a time...

2006-01-11T11:02:00.000+03:00

"When a person dies, all his deeds come to an end except three: sadaqah jaariyah (ongoing charity, e.g. a waqf or endowment), beneficial knowledge (which he has left behind), or a righteous child who will pray for him." (Reported by al-Tirmidhi, no 1376; he said this is a saheeh hasan hadeeth)

If a child lives with criticism, he learns to condemn.
If a child lives with hostility, he learns to fight.
If a child lives with ridicule, he learns to be shy

If a child lives with tolerance, he learns to be patient.
If a child lives with fairness, he learns justice.
If a child lives with security, he learns to have faith.

Anoynamous

Refreshed with Restart

2006-01-02T09:58:00.000+03:00

Another year has passed. Another year has come. Alhamdulillah. The resolution this year will be.... nah.. frankly, I'm never good with this. Year after year I made promises I never keep, so this year I'd say, Let's play along. Yes, fate has already lined up some plans for me for this new year, and boy, I can imagine that this year too, will fly by very fast.

The eve of New Year was spent with Habibi and his gang (Adam & Hossam), in the most absolute memorable way. We were invited over to Adam's (Habibi's tunisian friend whose Moroccan wife is away for a holiday break) for a dinner invitation. I cannot tell you why we love to be invited by Adam so much. Well, firstly, he is really the most talented man in the kitchen that we know. When we saw the fettucine (with 2 choices of sauce) on the dinner table we thought, Ok, that was it. No, it was more like, that was it?? That is not very Adam. But that was better than what we were going to have at home, leftover pizzas we have bought in the afternoon. But Adam did not dissapoint us, he told us only at the end of our last strand of fettucine to save our greedy tummies for the next suprise. Then we were just bowled over - mixed grill bbq (bbqed on his new electric bbq in the kitchen), and the list of accompaniments and dips, not in any order - Hoummous, Baba Ghanoush, Curry with Quark dip, Yogurt dip, Potato salad and God knows what else we have stuffed our face into that night. I made it very clear to Habibi that I wished he has only 1/10 of this man's talent, but Adam was quick to save him by saying that He may be good at cooking but not at other things..for which I quickly retorted 'But THIS is an important thing to be good at!'. By god, he neatly laid romaine lettuces on a plate just to serve grilled chicken! Nothing could penetrate Habibi who is very contented with his no-skills and knowledge in the kitchen. I know that he is just happy to help with the dishes afterthat. Then of course the closure, hot tea and tiramisu... alah.. I had thoughts about moving in.

The least we could do is to invite them over for a chat and a round of game later that evening. No, we don't play cards but Habibi is very excited about his new anniversary gift from Ibu that I brought from Singapore - The Cashflow game. For those who are not familiar with Robert Kiyosaki's Rich Dad Poor Dad, this board game was designed to teach Financial Intelligence to us - the lay men. Unlike a game of Monopoly which teaches us nothing but to be a greedy capitalist, Cashflow is a practical experience for those stuck in their jobs and rat race. Month after month we receive our salaries, and spends them the same way - on rental, food, cars, loans, etc. This game teaches you to GET OUT of the rat race by teaching you about Investments and Businesses. (No scams here, I'm not selling anything...continue reading if ur already up to here).
The game is not commercially available in the nearest shopping centre near you, but was introduced to me by Ibu who have invested in it long ago for her work as a Financial Planner. (You can order the game from the Amazon or Ebay, but it's about US$200, there is also the cheaper alternative, the e-game). Anyone who has seen or played this game will know how beneficial it is as this game is a reflection of real-life - being downsized, or having kids, are just some ways we could increase our expenses when we least expected it. We could go on and on working our but**s off paying for the same bills month after month, OR, learn to earn your own Passive income (income aside from fixed Salaries) and eventually come out of the rat race and be financially intelligent. The good news is, You don't need an accountancy or business degree to be Rich, ANYONE can be rich, you just need to know how.

After I introduced the game to a few friends over 3 years ago, I know that most of them have started to seriously think about their financial lives and have worked on getting that passive income. Some invested their savings whilst others tried their hands in small businesses. One thing for sure, no one can ignore what you've just played on the board without trying to at least attempt it in real life. Habibi for one, started to seriously think about setting up a business after he tried the game for the first time at my house over 3 years ago. That was my excuse to invite him over for the first time to our house without making it so obvious as I have to gather a couple of friends to play together with Ibu as the 'banker'. The then single Habibi and my friends were so bowled over by it that we were meeting weekly for it. I remembered one time, he was returning from the Philiphines after a business trip and I was suggesting that we meet up. Here was what happened.

During a phone call from the Philiphines ....

Single Habibi : My flight is so and so..

Me : So, do u want to have dinner or something later?

Single Habibi : No, I don't think so. I'm very tired, I want to go home and sleep

Me : Oh ok, in that case, I will just be at home and invite some friends
over to play cashflow

Single Habibi : Wait, you're playing cashflow? I'm coming!

And so he came by taxi from the airport with his luggage, no not for me, for Cashflow. That was how romantic we were then. When we were engaged, he ever suggested that I should scan the boardgame and photocopy the cards/money for ourselves!!!Lerr....

Anyway, where was I? Yeah, and so that was how we spent last night too, another round of cashflow. Should I call Ibu to say thanks or should I complain about having to play this game thrillion times! Alhamdulillah, it was a nice evening especially when Adam came over with the leftover from the New Year's eve dinner and I made Harirah (Moroccan Soup) and some grilled lambs for break fast (they are fasting for 10 days in Dzul-hijjah).

This year, I predict we will be very busy with Adik's arrival inshaallah in March, instead of April as per earlier suspected. Binti Salma is getting pretty busy herself learning new things. And Habibi is in the midst of many changes in his career and we are expecting news by mid-this year inshaallah which will determine whether or not we will be leaving this place.

I know something strange has happened towards the end of last year for me. I felt like a new person since coming back from Singapore. I sure hope it isn't temporary but somehow I know I'm just different. For one, I'm much more at ease, more peaceful, more internally contented, maybe its the pregnancy, whatever it is, I just love it. Since coming home, I have been very patient and loving towards Binti, and didn't find myself guilty of snapping at her because I'm tired. It may have been the water 'accident' last month that made me change so drastically. Or maybe the nursing was taking a toll on me. Or perhaps, its because I spent a lot of quality time with the family last trip. Love is definitely in the air, lots of it. Mashaallah, this feeling is from the One above, and I absolutely am thankful.

1+1 = 3

2005-12-28T15:21:00.000+03:00

It's tricky to regard Germany as home. Especially when you still don't know the language. Or have at least 10 pure German friends. But this is where I ended up in after 15 hours of flights and transits, a land I temporarily call Home. But to be greeted with a smiling face and a firm hug, is nothing less than comforting. A familiar smell of cologne brings me right back in time and place, as I try to recall what I have just left behind some thousand miles ago.

The familiar surroundings seems to greet Binti almost hastily as she freezes in the living room momentarily trying to recall them. I am just happy my living room looks decent enough to spare me from a fatal heart attack and demand a ticket back to Singapore. There are stacks of empty pizza cartons lying in the guest toilet-turned-garbage store room. Laundry also piled up in the bedroom. And more still waiting to be hung in the washing machine which is in our bathroom. Very clever indeed. He hid everything else for later doses of shock.

It's all forgiven though, after seeing how pathetic he became without us. His friend informed us that Habibi would mention how he missed us every 10minutes when he was with Habibi during the weekend. And how every 10 minutes that friend got frustrated with him. Although, freshly returned, I feel happy to be with Habibi again, it is much more fulfilling to see that Binti glides in easily to an environment she most recognized. She is happy again. Smiling again. Joking again. I missed all that about her. My trials to wean her off has to be postponed again as I felt that I owed her at least that to help ease her discomfort in Singapore.

Now back and settled, I kept myself low. A state I find most 'expats' would be in soon after returning from their homeland. It's a state of denial. Disbelieve. I try very hard to keep the momentum and the feelings together, but people has to move on. And although many tears flowed at the airport during my departure, I have come to learn that those tears are now dry. It's another day again, for them and for me. And I'm just so thankful that I'm still loved by so many whose love I reciprocate.

Yesterday, Habibi and I celebrated our 3rd year together as husband and wife. 3 years and there's 3 of us to share this joy. How very lucky we are. Alhamdulillah. The past week we find ourselves locked in embrace as we watch our dear Binti and her antics, making us laugh and hearts filled with happiness each time. We are truly a family, a loving family, and I only pray everyday that Allah will keep the peace and harmony in our family always. There will be tough times, that I know, but I will always want these good times to override those unhappy ones.

And yesterday also marked the day that Binti has been weaned for a whole 24 hours. We're still counting the minutes, but so far it has been successful. Funnily, the event proved more emotional for me than for her. Whilst she was having an afternoon nap, I confessed to Habibi how hard it is for me to be 'useless' to her now. I cannot soothe her when she cries, I cannot feed her when she needs a snack. I beared her tears and appeals as she hopefully points to what she wants with a soft whimper 'that-that'... I cried with her and cried when she wasn't seeing. But I finally made it, it's something I also want in preparation of the next child, yet I feel so bad. Habibi of course was the punching bag for being the evil guy separating us for many nights, as he puts her to sleep to distract her from me.

In 2 weeks inshallah, we will all be dipping our feets in the glorious Red Sea of Hughada and lazing on its white sandy beaches infront of the same hotel where Amr Diab was shaking his bon bons in his video clip for his famous 'Nour El Ain' song. Click here to view and listen to song

I'm sure it will be a good start to a another episode of my adventures as an Egyptian's wife when I am in Giza for 2 weeks after that. Can't say I wasn't distracted with the pampered lifestyle of Singapore and the privacy here in Deutschland. Am I really up to the challenge? I dunno, but I pray that I will be. Let's see.

Hello and Goodbye...

2005-12-12T17:36:00.000+03:00

Great times flew by too fast, too soon. When I first came, I was thinking, what am I going to do with all these time that I"ll have here. There are so many people to catch up with. So many people to meet. So many things to do. I"ll manage. Or at least, that's what I thought I"d do.

In the end, I didn"t even meet my father who lives about 30 minutes away from me because he does not have a telephone number. Lame excuse I know, but I cannot afford to travel there with a toddler and a growing tummy and then find him not there. I couldn"t travel to K.L for the same reason to meet my mother and sister. But Binti did take more than a week to get used to the humid weather and time change. By the time she is well-warmed up, her father has left home for Germany,which left Binti feeling a little lonely and upset.

Soon, I started to call up old friends who very often springs up on Msn to remind me again and again that I"m due for a get-together. Being away, I do feel obligated to at least meet them once, but if only they"d understand that my time is so precious that I sometimes selfishly wish that I don"t know anyone anymore. Don"t get me wrong, it's not that I don"t want to meet anybody, but I don't want to meet just anybody. Over the years while I have been through some changes within myself, and now my priorities have changed. If people say marriage improves one's Iman, then parenthood is a testimony of that. If I could forgive myself easily for mistakes I've done before, I cannot simply do that around my children, whom I know, are absorbing every movement and decision I make like a sponge.

For instance, I was suppose to meet up with my best male buds but invited them home instead as I feel Binti will be quite uncomfortable in a public place. These guys were my best friends. I would defy housecurfews to spend time with them till very late chatting over some drinks. 2 are still unmarried and 1 which recently wed, came later with his new bride. It was an odd meeting. The boys and me, when we meet up, we used to have lots of fun, catching up, bitching, gossiping (yes, men gossip!!!) . But all that, seems lame now. The bitching is painful, the catching up is losing its point, and the gossiping, well.... It just isn"t the same anymore for me, a married woman and a mother to be sitting there and entertaining what seemed very childish and very old. At the end of the session, a new appointment is set, but I turned it down a few days later because I don"t want to be part of that anymore. I am truthfully tired of putting up an act and not being myself.. the new me. I don"t think my 3 weeks here is enough to convince any of my old mates that I"m, considerably different. They will probably yawn in my face if I even try.

Another old girlfriend almost drowned Binti, my precious Binti, by carelessly leaving her hand in the Children"s pool and left her there. When I saw Binti faced down, with hands and legs spread out, wriggling for help and air, I cannot think, but to immediately dash inside the pool with all my clothes to drag her out of the water. Alhamdulillah, Binti did not suffocate but cried and held me tight right after being rescued, or else nauzubillah... I cannot imagine it. I shiver whenever I flashback to that particular scene of her in the water so helpless. It was probably for a few seconds, the longest few seconds of my life, but enough, to remind me once again, that everything is a loan from Allah. And that nobody, is going to take responsibility of Binti, the way I can, and I do. Ironically, this friend is also a mother. The kind who forgets her own baby's diapers because "The maid has forgotten to do it.." Enough said. No, not enough. Binti now refuse to soak in the tub, an activity which she enjoyed tremendously before the incident.

Then I decided that I won't make any more mistakes, and begin to become obsess with how I'm choose to spend my time. Many friends will wonder why I have not called them till now (especially after a public announcement!). I have a lot of explaining to do when I get back home and they catch me online. I will be asked, will be judged. But will they hear me out if I tell them that I couldn't even meet my very own flesh and blood in this short trip? Will they understand that while Binti took time to get used to the time zones, I wasn't having enough sleep myself? Can they be sympathetic towards me who prefer to be with my 85 year old grandmother that I call "Mak"? Will they understand if I tell them that I don't want to rob my daughter of her time to get to know my family? Will they listen?

But albeit all that, I gave myself a chance to meet new people who have entered my life recently. As recent as a few months ago. Blog friends. Perhaps I am looking for something more in friendships that I didn't find previously. Maybe, desperately, I needed to convince habibi that I can make better choices of friends if Allahuallam, we're destined to be here for a short time. I know he is worried that old friends will distract me. I know my life direction has taken a different turn when Binti arrived, and I wouldn't risk anything.

So...back to my new friends. Yes, I must gloat about them because they are a bunch of wonderful people. I would have left it to Naz for better use of vocabs and expressions, but this is something I must do. Initially, some strange thoughts ran through my head because its different meeting a chat friend than meeting people who practically knew everything about you through the things you write about. "What do they think of me? What if they think I"m crazy for saying things I do? How should I behave or what do my blog potrays me as?"

Thank you Naz, CK, Raudhz, Noreez and Uja for finding time to come and meet me that day. It was a very nice afternoon at Great World City the other day and I thank each and everyone of you for being there. And I wished you all didn't get me anything coz I'm now ridden with guilt for not returning any. I'm really bad at such things which is not an excuse, but I'll try to improve inshaallah! And then there is the wonderful sister of Ely, Tety, who graciously invited us over to her place for a lovely nasi tomato last Sunday. Thanks Tety for the invite, eventhough you hardly knew me, but I didn't even feel odd at your place because of your warm hospitality. And yeah, your dad Rocks! I wrote a better part of this entry about all of you, but it dissappeared when my internet connection halted. Geram lah sesangat! But I cannot wait to publish this entry because I'm in a great hurry to thank you all. This pregnant woman cannot even ask for anything more till the end of the term when CK arrived at Tety's with a huge tupperware of Nasi Dagang! Terima kasih so much. Dari hujung rambut sampai hujung kaki. I really appreciate your effort and kind gestures.

What seemed like an endless 3 or so weeks, now became the last 3 days of my time here. I have not been to Geylang or Arab Street this trip. Forget Orchard Road, not interested. I have not cooked for my family as I promised. I have not packed my bags either. I"m not sure what I should do. Rush to do things I should or start packing, both will remind me that time is running up. Good times must end and soon I will return to the place where I now call home. I must return to the good man who have been surviving on burnt pizzas and take away Turkish sandwiches whilst I was away. Most importantly, I must return Binti to her father, a part of her whom she misses so much and I pray, didn't forget, the past 2 weeks.

So hello, and goodbye to my new friends whom I know are the only ones that I met alive that have read my blog, which till today, remain a secret from family members and made available to friends who are not too keen.

Assalamualaykum.
May peace be unto you all.

The snow came to tell me something

2005-11-18T21:42:00.000+03:00

I was about to step out of my apartment with Salma in her pram when I noticed hailstones ferociously hitting the floor of the road and breaking into many smaller pieces. I turned back and went into the apartment, thinking to myself, it came early this year. A few hours later, the snow came and now our pavements are all covered in white. My mind is occupied with tomorrow's flight to Singapore and the things I have to do before I go. And then, an hour ago, the phone rang...

'Ruby, My mother passed away!' cried Lilah on the other end of the phone line. This cannot be, this cannot happen. I must have heard wrong, maybe that lady on the phone isn't Lilah. In between sobs, I tried to make out the voice on the other end, praying hard it doesn't belong to my best friend Lilah. But somehow I knew when I picked up the phone, it was Lilah.

Life, as we all know it, isn't a bed of roses. Somehow, because of my past, I've surrounded myself with people with very tragic life stories. I blogged about Lilah earlier this year when she first took the flight to come and see me, well, ain't exactly me, but well, I was part of the plan. She came with great hopes of marrying someone she met on online. She came with all smiles, bubbly and cheerful, excited about everything she sees on her first holiday to Europe. I was very happy for her. I knew this meant the world for her. But I didn't continue that story and how it ends. They were suppose to get married 6 months after, however, to cut the long story short, her knight in shining armour couldn't marry her and bursts her big happy dream. After that, she couldn't laugh no more, her heart aches every day and night, and her eyes cried till there are no more tears left. Marriage was her way out to finding eternal Happiness, but happiness left her before she can keep it. But that relationship has brought her closer to Allah than she has ever been, and a few months later, she donned the hejab much to my surprise. So peaceful and passionate she was about finding the bigger 'love' in her life, she then decided to take her divorced mother to perform Umrah - ironically - on the dates that she was supposed to get married (company policy, long leaves must be pre-approved way ahead, but she did it even sooner because of her over-excitement about the marriage to her Belgium-based Morrocan prince).

Now, her mother, and only friend and reason for living, has left her peacefully tonite at about 2am Singapore time as she breathed out her last breath after more than 2 months suffering from the Big-C. Sitting here hitting this keypads, is the only thing I can do now since I'm pretty useless far away here in this cold city. I was going to visit her mother the day I arrive with my family, and even intended to keep my visit a surprise for Lilah. Too late. Tomorrow the jenazah will be taken care of inshaallah, and when I arrive, I am not sure if I'll have the right words to soothe Lilah's pain. What amount of hugs will be sufficient to comfort Lilah? Nothing I say or do, can make the pain go away. Should I even be there and pain her further when I will only remind her of the things she couldn't have? I know sometimes when she is down, she avoids me and our friends, her reason being we are all happily married, putting herself in solitary confinement, self-ptiy and isolation from the rest of the world. I purposedly avoid talking about my family life to her as I don't want her to envy me, and I would remind her all the time that whatever we have here in this world is temporary, and if HE wills it, he can take it away whenever he wants. That doesn't seem to convince her.

Pain is a word Lilah is very familiar with. Her father left her mother when she was in her teens and remarried to not one, not two, not even three women! He married them and then lost focus. And then he will come back to Lilah and mom and live with them for awhile again. Her only other sibling, an elder brother too has lost track of his life and caused much pain for her and her mother up to her deathbed. Lilah, built up her life by herself, finishing her education with her hard earned money, and moved herself, mom and their many cats from a one room L-shaped rented apartment to a bigger and more comfortable 4-bedroom one she bought with her own sweat. Whatever Lilah buys for herself, she buys for her mother too, be it new shoes, new clothes, new handbags... alhamdulillah, that kind lady has a grateful daughter. Now that Makcik or 'mamamia' as I used to call her jokingly is gone, Lilah's life must be drastically quiet. Although I'm saddened by the desmise of Makcik, I am more sad for Lilah and how she always wished that her mom could see her get married or have a kid. Allah was also generous with Makcik, and invited her to HIS honourable Al-Kaabah for the Umrah just a few months ago. After 2 months in the hospital, she was allowed to go home for her last hari raya, but was rushed to the hospital again soon afterwards when her conditioned worsened. I feel, deep in my heart, Makcik belonged to Allah, who loves her more than her husband or children. 'There', makcik can rest in peace and we will all make prayers for her. Lilah however, will have a hard time moving on. Me, her only close friend is thousand of miles away, useless at this point of time, wishing that I'm there to dry her tears or just be there when she needs anything. By Allah, I am indeed grateful that I'll be seeing her again in 2 days and give her an overdue hug. 2 days is better than 2 months or 2 years, and for that, alhamdulillah.

Inalillahwainalillah rojeeun for the soul of Makcik Hamidah.
Please join me in Al-Fatehah

Last Breath by Ahmad Bukhatir
(click to listen)

From those around I hear a Cry,
A muffled sob, a Hopeless sigh,
I hear their footsteps leaving slow,
And then I know my soul must Fly!
A chilly wind begins to blow,
within my soul, from Head to Toe,
And then, My Last Breath escapes my lips,
It's Time to leave. And I must Go!
So, it is True (But it's too Late)
They said: Each soul has its Given Date,
When it must leave its body's core,
And meet with its Eternal Fate.
Oh mark the words that I do say,
Who knows? Tomorrow could be your Day,
At last, it comes to Heaven or Hell
Decide which now, Do NOT delay !
Come on my brothers and sisters let's pray
Decide which now, Do NOT delay !
Oh Allah! Oh Allah! I can't see !
My eyes are Blind! Am I still Me ?
Or has my soul been led astray,
And forced to pay a Priceless Fee ?
Alas to Dust we all return,
Some shall rejoice, while others burn,
If only I knew that before
The line grew short, and came Turn!
And now, as beneath the sod
They lay me (with my record flawed),
They cry, not knowing I cry worse,
For, they go home, I face my Allah!
Oh mark the words that I do say,
Who knows that I so say,
Who knows? Tomorrow could be your Day,
At last, it comes to Heaven or Hell
Decide which now, Do NOT delay !
Come on my brothers and sisters let's pray
Decide which now, do not delay ....

Things have changed...

2005-11-07T17:27:00.000+03:00

This post has been published on Berita Harian Singapura today, on 12/11/2005
Read it here!

We were late for the sunnah eid solah. Ironic. Habibi spent last 10 nights of ramadhan at the mosque for iktikaf, hardly missed their tarawih jemaah and spent the nights there to get closer to Allah...and then, we missed the Big Event. When we got there, I could barely open the door to the Ladies' Prayer Room as it was full with women and their children. I did my own solah right in front of the door, the only space I could get when I stepped in.

Just an hour before that, I rummaged through my wardrobe for something 'good enough' to wear on this special occasion. Found none. No glittering traditional 'baju kurung' in my wardrobe. The only one was from my nikaah almost 3 years ago. Didn't realise that I must have grown over these couple of months and it's quite 'seksa' looking on me now. I really regretted not getting a 'baju kurung' for binti this year. Last year we bought her one pair last-minute at the Geylang Bazaar on the night before raya which was outrageously priced for a tiny costume. This year, since I know I am going to be here, I never thought about preparing ourselves that way. It's not like we have anywhere to go? However, on hindsight, I should have, at least the celebration will be slightly felt. Well, family life is still something new to get used to. I for one have celebrated many rayas without baju kurung. Now that I have my own family, I should pay more attention huh? I do miss raya the way I once knew it.

At the mosque, we decided to stay on as the mosque community have arranged for some 'jamuan' at the basement for ladies and children and upstairs for the men. I have my own small raya gathering planned, but I know this means a lot for Habibi who misses home as much as I do. My german and arabic vocab is still weak, but I managed to hang out with the ladies that I have met and known over the years here. The only times I met them is when we bumped into each other at the mosque. The 'jamuan' was very modest, something that I cannot imagine eating on a day like this. But I've wisen up over the years (Thank God!!) and appreciate the bread, foul medames, cheese, strawberry jam, orange marmalade that was served for the guests. This is food after all, from Allah, and who am I to complain. Maybe 'food' by definition on hari raya used to be Ketupat, Lontong, Rendang or anything fancy and what nots of kuehs after that, here, food is something as simple as Bread. These are a bunch of people from 3rd world countries like Egypt, Somalia, Palestine, Euthiophia, Sudan, etc. I don't know all their backgrounds but some of them came here to study or came with their husband who are studying. Unlike my initial thoughts that Arabs are all well-off, there I sat with people of all colours, from all kinds of societies, all kinds of stories. There were no dangling richness hanging from their necks or displaying on their wrists or fingers. No multi-coloured clothes, except on their children who looked happy to be dressed up on this day. The mothers were loud, the children even louder. It was Eid, everybody gets away on this day.

I feel so stupid now thinking about our first raya in Egypt. Like a spoilt brat, I donned up with my new pair of traditional costume, for Eid sunnah prayer. The prayer was less than 100metres away from the house. It was by the roadside. MIL brought her own tikar so that we will have our own to pray and sit on.

The Men's prayer area

The women's side. Me in Red. Habibi standing.

A little girl in her best Eid-wear

People are dressed in their everyday wear. If it was new, you would not have guessed it. Some children were even barefooted. I noticed ladies taking a glance at me and my tehnicolour dress and I knew immediately, I was out of place. After the solah, people stayed back to hear the khutbah and then we walked home. MIL served us Foul medammes (what else) and the rest of the family feasted on the smoked fish they got for Eid. Habibi and I detest the smell of smoke fish, hence that's all we got for Eid. Habibi then told his family about the malay culture of 'bersalaman' and seeking forgiveness from each other on this day, but it was taken very lightly and everybody giggled because they never asked for forgiveness this way ever. MIL refused to 'salam' FIL or ask for forgiveness! So though everybody did it out of good sport, it was not quite what I expected. Soon after, everybody went on to do what they do on a normal day. This was too much for me who expected more out of Eid in a Muslim country. There was no visiting. There were no multi-coloured kuehs, there was no sirap of various colours, there was no hari raya entertainment program. There was nothing. The city sleeps and so will the inhabitants until evening comes. So I shamelessly cried.

Alhamdulillah, although this year we're stucked here and our family practically did not even celebrate except for the short visit to the mosque in the morning. Habibi went to work right after dropping me off at a fellow Singaporean friend's place. There were only 3 malay muslim ladies and 1 indian lady, but it was a nice quiet day of Eid. And I thank Allah for that. We made efforts to rekindle the memories of Eid together, as we pooled up our sources and came with rendang, lontong, lodeh, ayam panggang, acar and kueh mueh. The food was good, but being together, was much better. This year, instead of thinking about what I don't have, I decided that I have much to thank for, and I'm happier this way.

Things have changed. I must have too. (I didn't even take a single photograph of Eid this year).

Alhamdulillah.

Counting Days..back and forth

2005-10-28T05:11:00.000+03:00

These days my thoughts are back home. Counting days till I board the flight and finally see the faces that I so miss for a year now. I'm still lucky that I have this opportunity to go home again this year, but I feel luckier that I have a home to go to, once again. Alhamdulillah.

I know that Ibu will be there. The Woman I love most in this world besides Mak. Ibu will faithfully wait for my arrival to pick me up from the airport. Against all odds. Ibu is Mak's only daughter. The first time I returned home was when I was already pregnant with Binti. When I reached the doorstep, I found out that Ibu's husband has just left the house to avoid seeing me. I don't understand what's his issues with me, but I can't bear the thought that Ibu, once again, have to suffer because of his childishness. He didn't return home for a week when I was there, staying at his parents instead. Nah, I don't feel hurt about these things anymore. Been through much worst, and this just goes to show how people can hate you just because you belonged to no-one, and thinks you deserve only that. Although now married, with hejab...I am still treated like an ill-disciplined teenager and me staying there for 3 weeks is a burden. Others in the family were quick to make me feel immediately at home, even the old cat whom I loved. Mak prepared my favourite nasi rawon complete with bagedil and serunding, my cousins were all there eagerly waiting for their gifts and updates about life abroad.

Ibu is my pillar of strength and love and probably the only reason and motivation for me to reach where I am today. She was there all my life, never giving up on me, although sometimes I understand that she is binded by her circumstances. Although Mak brought me up, there are many things that I couldn't share with her due to the generation gap and language barrier. Some things I just cannot express in malay, and some words sounds even stranger in malay for us to be using. Ibu would be the one checking on my report cards, meet with my teachers when I get in trouble, plastic wrap my school textbooks yearly and wrote my name on them, bring me out weekly to shopping malls, arcades, movies, mcd's (before she got married), encouraged me during my exams, attended my scholarship award ceremony, discuss my dreams with me, attend religious classes with me (so that I go and won't skip!), bought me the most expensive toys, attend my first theatre production (Mak would say, Kau kata kau berlakon..mana? Tak nampak pun kat TV!), later attend my 'LIVE' recordings in Caldecott Hill, and she even lost about 10k, because she invested in a company that I worked with once. Ibu, almost adopted me officially but it was discouraged by her father my aruah atok, who said that no matter what, my parents are still alive, and then it was never mentioned again. Later when she got married to the above mentioned, he threatened very occasionally to send me to the Orphanage. Aruah Atok has left us by then. I was about 11, but I know from that day on, I have lost Ibu, and this was about the time I started to drift away from everyone. Very soon afterwards, they got their first child, and so my fate was sealed. Weekend outings are now without me.

I should have blogged about her long ago so that this posting will not be detected easily by some nosy family members. But I didn't, I don't know why, perhaps she is far too precious to be sharing in public that soon. Both Mak and Ibu love me dearly, but in very different ways. Mak's love was stranger to me when I was younger because I couldn't understand her harsh disciplining methods. Ibu on the other hand got me through her warmth and loving ways. The best way to describe them would be, Mak fed me food, Ibu fed my soul. Whilst in a normal undysfunctional family, one would have 1 mother for the above purposes, I have 2!

I still call Ibu when I have news to share. We could talk about anything and she would listen to me if I'm down and needed a telephone to cry on. Earlier on, when I couldn't handle the marital problems (atop of being away and desperately alone), she would be the one to tell me, 'Why are you seeking to win, seek harmony instead'. Her words are like gem to me and have been the words of wisdom that holds me together. She is wise, very wise, although she doesn't seem to be much of a talker. Aside from that, I have also NEVER heard or seen her talk about others in a displeasing manner that most bored woman would do! May Allah bless this wonderful woman he has created!

When others despise me, she believes in me. When others blackmailed me, she trusted me. There is no one else in the world that makes me feel like how she does. And one day, I broke her heart when I've had enough and had to leave the household when I was 15 (after a bried period living with another Uncle-her brother, then coming back again). She handed over a bank book which was meant for my future education to my father, whom I have searched for to live with him. My aruah atok's 'prophecy' did come true after all. Though the vision I've had about living happily with my own father shattered as soon as I stepped into his house, I couldn't turn back.

Nevertheless, I came back much later with an empty bank book, and then left again. My soul was unrest in their household and I had to leave. Perhaps it was Allah's plan. I looked for my mother next, hoping this will be better.

What happened in between, I may have blogged about, but what happened after was something I cannot erase from my heart. I came back, with money, self-confidence and a proposal of my next plans. I needed to further my studies but I also needed a place to stay whilst I finish my education. The meeting was set in Delifrance, Takashimaya in Singapore. 2 women (I've growned up by then) sat and had a heart to heart conversation. Tears rolled down each of our cheeks as we confront our feelings for each other. I remembered telling her forwardly that I don't feel loved anymore, and I don't even hear these words being said to me, EVER. She replied and her answers revealed another deep side of her which she hardly discloses. 'Mak never said these things to us, we grew up not knowing how to express ourselves'. She took me back, although she had to face many obstacles doing so. But she did, and the trouble she had to go through for doing that.

Today, things are much better. After almost 3 years of marriage, I must have convinced the 'one mentioned earlier' that I didn't screw up my life by marrying a foreigner, and I didn't come back this time to live with them again - because I have found my home, with habibi and binti. I have found eternal peace and genuine love which Allah has blessed me with. Subhanallah, how generous HE has been. All the time, I was fretting about not having parents..while in fact, I do, in the better sense of the word. I thank HIM again for making me realise this before it's too late. After so much that HE has given, I am too shy to ask for more, but I know HE is generous and merciful, and may just fulfil my other wishes.

Ibu, as her children calls her, now gets busy with her own entreprenual ventures, juggling them and her children, who mashaallah, have all grown up to be intelligent and well-behave. Not a very IT savvy person (we ALL know her password! ehehe), ibu rarely comes on chats or emails. But she does write when she needs an opinion about a new venture, or to ask me to design things for her. Recently, she was even considering 'Theatre' as a sub-subject for her eldest daughter who will soon go to college. From a quiet homegirl (who have been touted by naughty boys with the song from the 70's 'Hey fatty bom bom!') to a successful engineer and now a business-oriented woman, she is alhamdulillah, blessed with good manners, skills, intelligence, good children and rezki. I guess, Allah did not wait till judgement day to lavish one like that with worldly rewards and well-being, masha'allah.

I've been calling her ibu eversince I can't remember when (after she had children), and her children sometimes described me as their sister to others who inquired about me. I remember a hadith that says 'You will be with the ones you love in paradise', and I will definitely pray that firstly, ehem, I qualify to enter the paradise, and secondly, to have all of those who matters to me there with me. Inshallah. Ameen Ya Rab!

Thank you Allah for everything that you have blessed me with. I know I didn't thank you enough, and I don't deserve all these, but then, you are GREAT. Far too GREAT. And I'm humbled by that.

Ibu

Ibu ibu engkaulah ratu hatiku
Bila du berduka
Engkau hiburkan selalu
Ibi ibu engkaulah ratu hatiku
Tempat ku menyerah kasih
Tiap waktu

Betapa tidak hanya engkaulah
Yang menyinari hidupku
Sepanjang masa engkau berkorban
Tidak putusnya bagai air laut

Ibu ibu engkaulah ratu hatiku
Tempat ku menyerah kasih
Wahai ibu

Betapa tidak hanya engkaulah
Yang menyinari hidupku
Sepanjang masa engkau berkorban
Tidak putusnya bagai air laut

Ibu ibu engkaulah ratu hatiku
Tempat ku menyerah kasih
Wahai ibu

Berlalulah sudah ramadhan...(Well, almost)

2005-10-25T21:09:00.000+03:00

Sebulan berpuasa
Tiba Syawal kita rayakan
Dengan rasa gembira
Anak muda di rantauan
Semuanya pulang ke desa
Ibu dan Ayah keriangan
Bersyukur tak terkira.....

Kueh dan mueh
Beraneka macam
Makanlah jangan hanya dipandang

Ketupat rendang
Sila nikmati kawan
Penat memasak malam ke pagi
......
.....
.....

Today met up with our Asian gang, buat kueh kat rumah one of them. Alhamdulillah, dapat juga rasa suasana hari raya walaupun jauh di rantauan. Padahal, tak pernah pun I buat kueh selama hidup ini, selain time home economics class - itu pun rock bun - kueh omputih kata orang tuh.

So I was really grateful to these ladies who gave me an opportunity to have a taste of hari raya ambience, although making kueh was not a practise back home either. Selalunya 'order' dah siap je, lagipun Mak ada ramai anak buah yang buat kueh dan tiap tahun dapat berbotol-botol! And entah kenapa, I disliked kueh too, cuba kasi brownies ke, cheesecakeke, jalan laju,...tapi kueh melayu tak suka. Mengada nak mam***. Tapi semenjak tinggal jauh ni, terbayang-bayang kueh tart lah, kueh makmur lah, dan kueh kueh yang dulunya malas nak sentuh.

There were 6 of us today. 2 Malaysians, 4 Singaporeans (amongst them, 4 malays and 2 indians) tapi semua bertungkus lumus membuat kueh sama-sama. Yang tak pandai buat kueh kenalah buat adunan, buat shape2 kueh, glosskan kueh dengan egg yolk, tolong weigh bahan-bahan... apa saje lah yang boleh buat, asalkan mulut jalan tangan pun jalan ok lah tu.

It was a nice day, I thank these ladies for the initiative to do this kueh-making session today. Definitely one of the nice moments that I've had here in Germany. Pulak tu, ni kali kedua tak balik for raya. Tapi inshaallah, balik at a later date lepas my sepupu habis 'O' levels exams dia.

Inilah kueh-kueh yang kita bikin niari. Nak show off lah. Walaupun simple je, tapi tak sangka seronok beramai-ramai buat kueh for this lovely occasion of Eidulfitri walaupun berborak sampai lupa glaze kueh dan sampai terbakar pun ada! 3 jam dapat 4 macam kueh kira ok tuh!

(Kueh tart, Kueh Makmur, Biskut Cashew, Chocolate & Cornflakes Macaroone)

Selamat Hari Raya Semua. Maaf Zahir & Batin dari saya yang jauh.

Weaning and Whining

2005-10-20T10:10:00.000+03:00

The pregnancy (now can talk about it lah) is going ok, except that I'm still breastfeeding Salma when I found out that I was already 3 months pregnant. Since my period is not regular because of breastfeeding, I never suspected that I could be pregnant, although we've talked about it, and decided that yeap, we're ready to, for the sake of Salma who badly needs a friend. Her friendly disposition and eagerness to hand-shake all toddler strangers never fail to amuse me. She would just come up to them and offer a hand shake, sometimes, she gets one back, and sometimes, she would just get very shy stares, even from the boys. Occasionally she would say hi, in her own gibberish language which did not sound particularly familiar in arabic or english or malay.

I can talk on and on about my dear little darling Salma whom I've grown to love more than myself. Just pretend to cry, and she will come hugging and giving you a kiss on your cheek. Her father gets a kiss from the other side of the glass door on his way out to the office. She is enthusiastic about songs and dances when she hears familiar tunes. At such a young age, she has shown much interest in I.T gadgets from our p.c's, laptops (she knows how to shut it down), our mobiles (she sends empty SMSs to my friends all over the world), digital camera, video camera... Most of them are lucky to still be in working condition today. Habibi of course has established some kind of relationship with Salma. The times with her are mainly to relax, play and joke around. I took pains teaching Salma various animals sounds and actions so she will respond accordingly when she hears words including Elephants, Snakes, Crocodiles, Chicken, Dogs, etc etc, and then Habibi came home from a walk with her one day to show his masterpiece too. ' 'How does Mama sleep?' (in arabic) and then Salma started SNORING!!! Recently, he taught her how to cough out plehgm.

My baby at Charlie's Checkpoint in Berlin, with a piece of Berlin Wall in the background.

Since she was born, I let her sleep by my side. There was not a night that she was away from me. We both got very used to it. By 6months, while most mothers have already disciplined their babies sleeping time and assigned a separate bedroom, i couldn't bear to. Plus, at that time, we were constantly travelling, so it was really hard to set a sleeping pattern. She was too close to me. We would sleep with our bodies in contact, sometimes she would find me with a part of her feet, or her arm, and then she would rest quietly. But things have to change...

When I found out I'm pregnant, I was hoping that Salma would stop breastfeeding naturally when she finds the milk depleting or perhaps even change in taste, but no, she hung on to me even more closely and tightly. Far worst is that, she can even say and points to what she wants now, making it impossible to pretend not to understand.

Habibi came to the rescue, volunteering to sleep with Salma in a separate room until she weans off from breastfeeding at night.It is really hard for me to watch him wake up at night and try to soothe her down. He would carry her, bring her to the living room to listen to Al-Quran, feed her with bananas (!!) and whatever he can find, until she falls back to sleep again. She does this a few times a night, and so far, only once, she slept through. Habibi would have to wake up early for his sahur and then his day starts again. Although I'm enjoying a little bit of freedon from a part of my body which she binti used to cling on, I also missed them tremendously. I installed the baby-walkie-talkie to just hear them at night till i fall asleep. But however, I must have gotten a really lousy one because sometimes I hear someone elses' baby wailing! It must be so difficult for Habibi, but he insists on doing it until he succeeds, furthermore, he already felt some difference in their relationship since he invested those nights for binti. Nowadays, Salma would voluntarily kiss him when he prays, or when he is eating, or just ask to sit on his lap. That kind of affection, of course, is something money cannot buy.

Now I joke to Habibi that I finally gotten my childhood dream. A big bed and a big room all to myself. I decided the room needs reworking, since I'll be occupying alone. So I moved the bed, the bookshelf, the tv and removed every junk I can find hiding under the bed. But of course, something has to happen. On the bed, there are 2 single mattresses supported with a long piece of wood in the middle. Under that piece of wood, is another much smaller vertical one to support the wood from the floor. Well, while moving the bed, I didn't put that smaller one back because that would need me carrying some weights, which I'm careful not to right now. So... well, I must have forgotten that I have put on tonnes since marriage and happily dived on the bed with binti after renovation and was greeted with an immediate 'CRAAAAACCKKKK!'. I broke the bed. :( Sent an email to apologize to Habibi and when he comes home, he knows I must have either burnt something, or broke something. By the 2nd guess, he got it right and quickly thought 'You did it on purpose!'. Well, NO! I grinned widely. He has a reason for claiming so, he knows I hated the bed since I moved in here. You see, he had to choose the bed and the basic kitchen cabinets before I came (based on his basic needs : Sleeping and Eating), so he settled on a very huge bed, and after being here for awhile, I also knew he paid way to much for it, not knowing 'market prices' for such things. He is also responsible for the greenish-grey carpet that covered our entire apartment, and sanitary white kitchen appliances. When I saw them for the first time, I knew I had to take over the designing of our first humble abode.

Oh, where was I? Oh yes, Binti...I tried calling Mak for some advise on what to do with this clingy daughter of mine, and she gives me a tip which is too avant-garde for my modest imagination. 'Kau genggam garam, pusing kat kepala dia 7 kali baca salawat, lepas tu buang kat tingkap'...Alamak, what's the basis of this theory? No need to check my religious kitabs, sure takde! No need to tell Habibi, how to explain!? Hmm, ok next...

So here I am, quite exhausted from the day's activities and the short day in Ramadhan. Without Binti at night, I did get back some of that energy I have lost over the past 1 year. However, this is not something I can celebrate about because my partner falls asleep before I can say goodnite. I guess exchanging our roles have done us some good. He finally understands why I always fall asleep next to Binti when I put her to sleep. He finally understands why I'm in need for some sleep in the day, after coming home exhausted one day during lunch hour and pleaded that I wake him up after he gets an hour of deep slumber. He finally understands why the house can't be managed by 1 person who has a full-time job caring for a child. I know role-playing was a good idea!

Ahhhh.... So now I get better rest, better sleep...what more can a pregnant woman ask for? ;) (Although technically, I'm sleeping in our room on the mattress, which is on the floor now until the bed gets repaired...and knowing habibi, this will take some time..)