Friends are for the good times.... and the bad times

He was visibly moved, after the solat jenazah at the mosque.

"Thanks for coming Man. Susah susah engkau saja," Madi said. I stared at him; I not sure how how many hours of sleep he had for the past 96 hours. I am sure he would be able to count with fingers on a single hand, if I were to ask him. I am sure from the moment he was asked to return home (from Chicago) and onto the 24 hour (or more) flight to Kuala Lumpur and onto to Kuala Terengganu, he probably had not slept a wink.

Then I quickly dismissed his notion. "It was nothing," I said. "Don't you mention it. Friends are for times of joy..." I paused to take a deep breath, "....and for times of sorrow."

We then hugged each other. He was close to tears, and he was trying hard to control it. I would have understood him if he were to burst into tears. This year (2013) was really a trying year for him. Early in the year, he lost his father in law, right in the middle of a family wedding. Two days later, he was asked to returned immediately since his wife was admitted into the ICU at Hospital Sg Buluh.

"I think you better come home," his brother had said to him, breaking the news of his wife Baya's illness, over the phone.

My bro Madi working hard at the funeral of his dad. It has been a trying year for him

I am sure then in January 2013, he did not get enough sleep in the aftermath of that dreaded phone call, until his arrival at the ICU.

This was one of the dreaded occasions that we had on many occasions talked about everytime he returned to KL. He knew eventually it would be coming, wondering how to handle such an occasion since he is living and working in the faraway land called the United States of America. I should know too; I had experienced that dreaded phone call one night in August of 1984 in Melbourne.

But one has to experience it to really know it, and as as another of our mutual friends Aya had said, even at this age, losing one's parents is not something one can easily cope with.

I was contemplating hard the night before, right after getting the news from his brother, whether I could be attending the funeral. The return flight is a bit odd. There was a 1 pm flight which was too close for me to catch after the burial scheduled at 10 am, but if I were to miss it, then I would have to wait until 2120 hours, which was a tad too long for me to wait at the airport.

But I knew I had to be there. I knew his family well. I had on many occasions chatted with his dad at this bro's house in Shah Alam. I had spent days at Madi's house in Chicago; he had on many occasions bought me gifts from USA. So I knew I had to fly to KT - luckily there is one early morning flight.

By 11 am, Poi was worried that I was going to be late. "Let's go now," he told me. They were still filling up the grave with more earth. "Let's wait for a few minutes, until the burial is complete," I resisted him. I won't wait for the talqin. I need to catch the 1 pm flight, but at least I would be there until the grave is fully completed.

They have not met for so long, may be since in 1980 since Madi did not return home for the reunion of 2003. So there many stories told at the hospital when they met again for the first time after more than 30 years. Zai said: The stories told by him were as if that we were there again, and like we were 17 again - all over again. It must have been vivid.And livid.

Poi asked me to take a ride with Zai saying that I would have  better chance to catch the plane taking a ride with him. But it was Poi who drove like Vettel to be honest, arriving  5 minutes earlier than us. But by then, I had missed the flight. There was no amount of pleading from the dad of an Air Asia pilot that would make one En Redzuan change his mind, and allowed me to board the plane.

Aah, well. That's Air Asia for you.

So I had to change my plan, and find things to do while waiting for my 9 pm flight.

In the end, Zai and Poi decided that they were going to spend the day entertaining this old friend of theirs. Zai and I had gone a long way - we were classmates for five years at high school, and were roommates at Perth while doing our matriculation. On the other hand, I barely knew Poi, to be honest. While we were schoolmates at (same) high school, but we were of different class, so we seldom had the opportunity to interact with one another. Our chance came when I went to Melbourne for my tertiary education at Monash. By then, Poi had spent a year already there - he did his matric in Melbourne while I completed mine in Perth, but he went to Swinburne Institute of Technology and did not get involve much with student activism, so I don't believe we had even met, while we were in Melbourne.

His wife had asked him the night before about me, when he told her that he was picking me up at the airport. "Is he your best friend in Melbourne?" she asked. "I am not sure I had even met him there, to be honest," he replied. His children laughed.

Poi was being honest. I was trying very hard myself the night before trying to figure out if I even knew of Poi's existence then in Melbourne (and him of mine, obviously). I mean I contacted Rashid when I got an offer to study at Monash, and Rashid picked me up at the consul's house when I arrived one that wee hour of the morning in Feb of 1982. I knew of other schoolmates who were at Monash - Art Buteq and Doris.

And Art and Poi had even visited Perth late that year in 1981.

But somehow Poi's name was missing from my memory from the moment I stepped onto Melbourne's soil..

So on the way to Kuala Brang, we renewed our acquaintance. He spent more time with the local Australian moslem community, and seldom interact with students, he told me. No wonder, he was into tabligh (and still is,) and no wonder our path did not cross then in the 80s when we were living in the same city.

Many common stories were told. That one hour ride was our way of getting to know each other, from our days at school to Melbourne and until present day. Poi was so much in home schooling and all his children (3 of them) were home schooled, which was the main reason why I had contacted him to hitch a ride to Kuala Berang.

"Depends on what you want to do in life, Man. My kids are into IT and programming, so there is no requirement for college diploma or university degree. What's more important is certification," he explained.

Understood with my own limited knowledge in the IT and programming world, I guess.

After I missed the 1 pm flight, Zai and Poi were scheming for things for me to while my time away. "First, we'll drive you to the hotel, and we'll come back to pick you up after Friday prayer and go for lunch. You go and take rest now," Zai told me. He did not even allow me to go for Friday. "Allah has given you the lee way not to have to do your Friday, so take it with an open heart," he told me when I protested.

Three friends having satar and air nyior at the beach in Marang. I shared with them at least five years of my school life, and our Australian adventure. Poi perhaps has more stories to tell of his Australian experience as he spent nearly a decade there, mixing with the local Australian muslims community. I like your green eyes story, bro. Hehehe, Zaid did not understand it, and had to ask me later about the green eyes.

Would you believe it that Zai even paid for my hotel room, despite my protestation? Zai is certainly not just a friend, not even a good friend. He is making me feel like we are family!

In fact, he apologised earlier for not being to take me to his house since there was no one at home.

They came back at 3 pm and Zai took us to this Briyani Gam restaurant. It was really good. The rice was all pure basmati, with just the right spices. The same goes to the gulai - enough spices, with little hint of sweetness. 

Perfect.

But I must add the lauk kambing was mewah. Ample of kambing and in the end when we had finished our rice, we still have ample of the lauk kambing left. All three of us. Poi and I agreed that the lauk kambing was perhaps a bit too mewah.

I did not know till later that it was Zai's restaurant, so we had given him our honest opinion.

And our honest opinion is that we would frequent it, for it is that delicious. Unfortunately it is not in KL for me to enjoy this weekly. But now I know where to go for my lunch if ever again I found myself in Kuala Terengganu.

Obviously right after lunch, we ended up at the beach of Marang for our by-the-sea satar. We had to do it by the beach since we knew of someone who for some reasons always crave for satar and had been imagining herself having it by the sea, so it would be good to tease her.

I think the stress of taking on KL's notorious traffic jam is taking the toll on Aya. Take a break Aya, go and visit KT with your partners in crime. You know where to have your Briyani, and I am sure you will enjoy the satar by the beach. Traffic on a Friday is very light.

All in all, while it took the death of Madi's dad to make me come to KT, I surely hope that I would not have to wait for another death for me to enjoy friend's company again. Poi told me that it is his wishes to go and visit his schoolmates and their parents, and if the parents are no longer with them, that he would like to visit their graves.

Good on you, Poi. You have my respect for how you are leading your life, and if you start your endevour very soon, I would salute you. That would be icing on the cake of your life, so to speak, something I am sure I would not be able to emulate.

Thank you Zai and Poi for taking time off entertaining this old guy. I had enjoyed their company, and wish to reciprocate soon in Kuala Lumpur.

My early morning flight at LCCT. Notwithstanding the at-times-soulless service counter, especially if you were to request for something outside their SOP, I am grateful for its existence, as it allows me to fly anywhere at my whim and fancy.

That Friday morning was all about Madi and his aruah dad. Moga Allah mencucuri rahmat keatas ruh beliau. Takziah from all of us Madi, let's continue being an anak yang soleh, for that's the only way for us to now help our demise parents.

And the return flight from KT. It was dark when I left home and it was already dark when I came home. I like the KT airport, love the architecture, it is expansive albeit I believe a bit too expansive. Perhaps it was built with the future in mind, too far in the future, I think.

I reached home at 2330 hours having left home at 0445 hours,  tiring but it was a journey I had to make for my bro Madi at his time of sorrow. There is a reason why I missed my 1 pm return flight - it is so that I could renew my acquaintance with bros Poi and Zai.

Everything has been set by Him.

EPILOGUE

I am sure this is what my bro Madi feels and would do for his aruah dad.

Why is clockwise clockwise and the tawaf counter-clockwise?

Taken by Arif on 4th March 2013

I was asked these questions by a PhD mathematic student (from Pakistan) when I was a first year engineering student at Monash in 1982.

 

Why is clockwise clockwise and not counter clockwise? Why do we circumambulate the Kaabah in a seemingly counter-clockwise fashion? Or if I were to use his words, anti clockwise manner.

 

I guess he must have been a tutor with the mathematics department and most likely I was in a math workshop or something.

 

Perhaps not. The muslim community was not too big a community at Monash, so we tend to know each other, especially if one were to frequent the Religious Centre for your daily solah. It is a convenient place for us to do our duty and perhaps meet friends for a break there. It is convenient as it is just next to the Student Union.

 

But I digress.

 

So why clockwise is clockwise and NOT anti-clockwise? Who 'invented' the clock or watch as we knew it today? Who decided the convention of clockwise and counter-clockwise?

 

In other words, someone could have decided then that clockwise is anti-clockwise and anti-clockwise is clockwise, if you know what I mean. The answer to that question is simply not because that's the way it is!

 

Actually I have been looking for a watch that would do just that, but to no avail. I have tried finding them everywhere, except the internet of course. That may be the reason why I did not find them in the past twenty years.

My dream watch - so that it follows the tawaf convention

Some may quote the Summerians, The Babylonians and what not as having their religious rituals in clockwise fashion. They seems to notice that the shadow of their ownself moves from left too right, and it seems that way too for the sun-dials. This article even argues that since most of our civilization is Northern-based, if one were to track the sun's movement, it would be clockwise.

 

As this article rightly question on the reasons on why the muslims would circummabulate the Kaabah seven times in the counter clockwise position, and why people lost in the wilderness tend to drift to the left and why baseball runners and racers tend to travel in the counter-clockwise manner.

 

A theory has been advanced by R.G. Haliburton in his Festival of the Dead, (1863) that the Semites---a people speaking similar languages, from which both Jews and Muslims descend---originated in Africa, south of the Equator, and therefore their "sunwise" direction is counter-clockwise.The circumambulation of the Sacred Rock in Jerusalem, however, is clockwise.

 

I disagreed with Haliburton as in the end, the circummabulation of the Sacred Rock in Jerusalem is clockwise.

 

That is what this friend of mine was trying to tell me thirty years ago. He rests his case.

 

 

Zahid Hamidi, the most popular Malaysian Minister in INdonesia right now?

Apparently at this moment, he is.

I managed to catch glimpses of him on TVOne (if I am not mistaken) yesterday (Wednesday 210 March 13) talking about the what the Indonesians referred to as "Konflik Sabah".

In general, I was not too pleased with his performance. I thought at times he was edgy and may be a bit emotional when answering to the female host, and I would have preferred him to be a bit more composed.

May be cool and composed.

"This is NOT a conflict. IT is an intrusion. IF anyone were to come to Indonesia and claim part of Indonesia as their own, would you call it a conflict or INTRUSION?"" he asked the host.

Ya, intrusion, came the positive reply from the host.

He was berating to the host in an apparent displeasure since the Indonesian media are referring to the situation in Sabah as Sabah Conflict. OK, fair enough I guess, but he could be more tackful but at the same time forceful.

To me it appeared that he was agitated

The female host was not in hard-hitting mode. She was simply asking questions; questions that many Malaysians would be asking of our own government. She let him off easily. She was too sweet to be a hard hitting anchor.

"Why claim now? What's the point of the referendum in 1963? They are only claiming it now because in the both countries, we are in election mode. There is a mid-term election in the Philippines and Malaysia is having one too. There are groups in both countries that would want to embarrass the two governments," so claimed Zahid.

He did not elaborate these two groups. I am sure he could not back up his own claim.

I don't know what he was doing in Indonesia, and how did he appeared to telly at around 11 am in the morning. I am not even sure if it was live or was recorded earlier. I am not sure, and I was not really interested to know.

Fast forward to 8 pm on the same day at Lumire Hotel in Senen at the end of my discussion with a potential partner.

"Hey, do you know that the Malaysian Minister of Defense is a Javanese? Apparently his mother is one, and he even spoke Javanese on telly this morning," he excitedly told me.

 

I shaked my head, telling him that I did not know that, but noted that in Bagan Dato', his constituency, there are many Javanese.

 

"Just imagine, a Javanese holding the important post of Minister of Defence of Malaysia," he further exclaimed.

 

I am sure there is no implication to that statement.

"Khir Toyo is also a Javanese, right?" someone I knew for more than a decade asked. "That's to obvious," I replied.

But I am sure they would all want to dissociate themselves from him if they knew the real and infamous Khir Toyo.

 

But noting from his excited voice about Zahid Hamidi, I was more amused than worried. I told him non-chalantly that Najib and his father Razak are Bugis from Sulawesi. But how did we go so wrong in our relationship with our big brother neighbour?

 

What I did not tell him is that technically I am a Minang from Bukittinggi.

 

May be I shall reveal that later, and get him to sign on the dotted line?

EPILOGUE

"So what were you doing in Jakarta?" the immigration officer at Sukarno-Hatta was asking as my exit question.

"Öh santai-santai sama teman-teman," I said truthfully. Ï have had dinner and tea with friends I knew for more than 19 years now and another for may be 16 years respectively.

"Ini, saya bawa balik 2 paket emping belinjo," I showed him my carry-on bag.

He was amused.

Sensing that he was chatty, and can take jokes with visitors like me, I told him that all my friends in Jakarta were lamenting that I did not bring them bawang. May be I should have. I could have easily carried 15 kg of bawang merah and bawang putih,

Apparently they are in short supply and it would cost at least Rp100,000 for a kg of the real namesake of the two step sisters.

I could have paid for my trip down south from the profit of selling the shallots.

Forget the Musang King, Let's plant the Ajwa

Dates for sales at the farm in Madinah. The black ones are the Ajwa.
Taken on Feb 26th, 2013

I am amused after reading Dr MAZA's latest entry at his website.

 

Personally, I found his writing insightful. It is simple to understand, and he did not attempt to confuse us with big words, and his line of thinking is rational.

 

I don't normally have to read it twice to understand, but I normally read them twice anyway.

 

To ensure that I have his pertinent points in my mind.

 

Having just came back from the holy land, with all the dates are still fresh in my mind, especially after having visited the dates farm and then onto the dates market in Madinah. Obviously for us Malaysians, if you went to the holy cities, it would not be complete with bringing back some (dried) dates as gifts to go with the zam-zam water.

 

It makes nice gifts.

 

Never mind if you didn't buy them abaya or sajadah (prayer mat).

 

Dates and zam-zam water would be sufficient.

 

Obviously I am told to buy Ajwa, supposedly the prophet's dates. Supposedly he loves it so much that that there are sayings (credited to him) about the virtues of dates in general, and Ajwa in particular. You'll find the virtues being told over and over again, especially during Ramadhan.

 

But at the dates farms and market, I was appalled by the price. Generally, on average one would pay about SR20-30 per kg of normal dates. But one would pay anything from SR100-150 per kg for the Ajwa.

 

That's a whopping RM130 per kg. And dried ones at that.

 

All because our prophet was supposed to have uttered those words praising the Ajwa dates.

 

That's nearly 5x as expensive as the King of fruits - the Musang King!

 

I mean RM20 is already expensive if one were to buy Durians and even the best of Mangoes, or any fruit for that matter. Let's not even talk about dokongs and rambutans; at this stage they seems like worthless.

 

But to pay more than RM100 for a kg of dates, I thought that we were going overboard. We want quick pahala and benefits; just by eating the kurma, and we are all supposed to go to heaven, I guess.

 

So I was amused to read Dr Asri's article when he retorted to the date sellers advocating him to buy the Ajwa by telling him (the sellers) that "there are no more prophet's dates. They were finished by him during his time. These are your dates, not the prophet's."

 

I quote,

Apabila jenama ‘Islam’ itu laris, ramai orang menggunakannya. Samada mereka itu ikhlas kerana Allah, ataupun kerana ‘market demand’ hanya Allah sahaja Yang Maha Mengetahui. Bermula dari pelbagai produk makanan dan barangan cuba dikaitkan dengan agama sehingga kepada pelbagai jenis motivasi. Akhirnya, agama kelihatan murah dan selekeh.

 

Ubat-ubatan yang entah apa-apa kualitinya dikaitkan kononnya makanan Nabi s.a.w. Sama seperti sesetengah para penjual tamar di Mekah dan Madinah yang apabila melihat orang asing akan berteriak memanggil pembeli dengan menyebut “Tamar Nabi! Tamar Nabi! Tamar Nabi!” Saya sering menjawab mereka dengan berkata: Tamar Nabi s.a.w baginda sudah pun makan dan habis pada zaman tersebut. Ini tamar awak punya, bukan Nabi s.a.w punya!

 

Malangnya, orang-orang yang tidak tahu akan tertipu lalu membeli tamar dengan harga berlipat kali ganda hanya disebabkan laungan ‘tamar Nabi s.a.w’. Agama sering menjadi alat penipuan dan kepentingan golongan yang pandai mengeksplotasikannya

 

End of Quote

 

You can read the full version here - Apabila Ceramah Motivasi Mula Merepek.

 

Thank you Dr MAZA. You have restored my faith. I am not sure I am a fan of the Ajwa; I thought that there are many other better tasting dates. In fact during Ramadhan, I prefer the dates from China to be honest. To me, it is a matter of preference.

I am all for loving our prophets, but to equate his food preference to deeds, aah, well...May be our kambing sellers would be promoting some types of kambings and make kambings our daily dishes.

I am ok for that as I love kambing. But many others who could not stand the smell or simply the meat would cringe.

 

Thinking back, may be we should be planting the Ajwa here in Malaysia?

And let's not bother with Musang King, shall we?

The March Rambling - Are we so incompetent?

I am extremly bored with the Malaysian political scene.

 

And I am tired of waiting for the election.

 

Macam menunggu kucing bertandok. Don't we have other things to do too, beyond waiting for general election?

 

Honestly, I am taking this government to task for failure to hold the election after 5 years. I don't really care about the technicalities. As far as I am concerned, we last held it on March 8, 2008 and it is overdue and this government is clinging on to power and does not seem to want to relinguish it.

 

To me, illegally. (As I have said, I don't care about the technicalities. Your five years is up. Let the people decide if you deserve another five years.)

 

I am not even sure if they will relinguish the power when the parliment dissolves automatically. Supposedly on April 28.

 

Never before in the country history we have a government resorting to this.

 

And the daily campaigning by them on telly. It is the speech by the PM, then the PM and then you have all kinds of advertorials, telling up in not so subtle way to ensure the current government stays in power.

It is yawning.

 

The government should be held responsible for the Sabah debacle. How did the intruders enter Sabah so easily and without the police or army knowing about it at all? In fact, without resistance at all. Did the police and army intelligence fail the nation? I think they did and I would like to call for the top brass of both forces to admit mistake and take responsibility for this failure. I'd call on the Home Minister to resign too over this. It is an honourable way to go, Hishamuddin. He must have been sleeping on his job. So did the police and army chiefs.

 

Why only now the government is thinking of setting the many police stations proposed a few days earlier? Why only now we are setting up the East Sabah Command Centre? After 50 years of independence?

 

It is one thing that 200 armed men were able to enter the country without even our authorities knowing it? But to be able to escape our cordon when the whole might of our military and police are in that area is another.

 

Are we so incompetent? It is pathetic.

 

I believe that this debacle is closely linked to the rampant give-away of citizenship and IC to immigrants in Sabah. Whoever set this IC for vote schemes, they are the traitors to the nation, and should be treated accordingly.

 

They are selling the nation to foreigners.

 

Memang panas hati bila difikirkan. Menyakitkan hati. Our politicians have no morality.

Seriously.

The RM8 breakfast at Pasar Tani

The pasar tani at UPM is quite a relaxing place.

 

The parking is ample; proper parking is readily available and one need not have to resort to double parking or parking by the roadside. In fact, one need not park a km away.

 

This is only my second time here. I am here to purchase more trees for the orchard in Langat. Talking to Adziz, within 10 minutes, I completed my purchase of Durian Duri Hitam and some other fruit trees including Putat. Just want to increase the varieties of trees in the orchard, that's all.

Upon completion,Akmal and I decided to have our breakfast at the Pasar Tani. There are ample of foods - quite a variety too, I must say. Anything to tickle one's fancy. I am sure one can find something that you like.

 

So I tried Nasi Minyak - a Terengganu breakfast one cannot easily find in Kuala Lumpur. Nasi dagang and nasik kerabu; they are easy to find in KL, but not nasik minyak. Whenever I have a craving for one, I would try to get an appointment in Kerteh at 10 am, so that I can have my breakfast there before the meeting.

 

Nasik minyak of  ourse.

 

But this morning I paid RM8 for a nasik minyak kambing. The food is good - no complain there I guess. But paying RM8 for breakfast is a bit too much I think. Not my style, but then again, I don't have breakfast here every week.

 

"Dik, bagi saya tisu," I asked the stall owner after paying him.

 

"Tak da tisu," he replied.

 

I did not say anything, but left.

 

I went to another stall and asked for two teh tarik. "RM3.20, satu RM1.60,"so I was told.

 

I paid my drinks, sighing.

 

But I am left wondering.

 

How much is teh tarik at my favourite restoran? RM1? RM1.20? RM1.50 at the most. But here in pasar Tani, supposedly all produce here are direct from farmers, so supposedly there are cheaper.

 

And the farmers are supposed to earn more profit without the middle men.

 

Jolly good.

 

Buying a RM8 breakfast, and one did not even get any tissue, and paying inflated teh tarik  at pasar tani, I am sure it is not worth it. Here is a place dominated by Malay sellers and frequented by Malays.

 

And a place for Melayu to ketok orang Melayu.

 

Don't you think so?



My RM1.60 teh tarik. By this time, my RM8 breakfast
is long gone! Hahaha

 

Sleepless in Chicago II

It has been awhile since I last posted an entry in this blog of mine.

 

I am not sure why; may be because I was too buzy, and I was. I know I have a couple of topics that I would like to put pen to paper. But then again, may be I was too lazy to sit down and write. Some of these topics require some thinking, and I prefer topics I can write straight from my heart.

 

A friend of mine had to travel from Chicago recently when his wife, who was in Malaysia to attend their niece's wedding, suddenly fell ill. He got that dreaded phone call that practically says, "I think you better come home" and without further ado, took the next flight out that very night.

 

Thirty hours later he landed at KLIA, and fortunately for him there was a happy ending. Right on cue, his wife was also at the same time discharged from ICU into the normal ward.

 

I am sure to his relief.

 

I can't imagine what he want through during the 30-hour flight. I am sure he would not be able to sleep and would be worrying about her.

 

I am happy for you Madi and Bayah. God bless the both of you and have a good return flight to Chicago this Tuesday. I spent a couple of days at their house during winter 2006 when I detoured from my meeting in Florida. I remember the delicious omellette that she cook for breakfast during those time and the hospitality of their family.

 

You can read about my adventure "Sleepless in Chicago" here.

 

Madi receving a visitor, an old friend and former classmates at the ward
in Sungai Buloh Hospital on Sunday 3 February 2013