dimanche, mai 23, 2010

Mouron in Kuala Lumpur - an enchanting evening












Last night, Rudi and I took Irani and Ilena to see Mouron in concert - the French Diva de Chanson. The concert was held at the Panggung Bandaraya at the corner of Jalan Raja and Jalan Tun Perak, just across the river from the Sessions Court at the Padang. Reconstructed after a massive fire a few years ago, the Panggung was in pristine condition, albeit a bit old fashioned - here is Irani at the Panggung's lobby and the girls at the Medan Selera di Tebing.











We arrived early to confirm our seating for the show - by the way it was a free concert organised by A'lliance Francaise and the French Embassy for the French Arts & Film Festival 2010 - so we walked over to Medan Selera di Tebing - the inconspicuous space you see at the junction of Jalan Tunku Abdul Rahman and Jalan Tun Perak. There was a fountain which the girls loved and KL looked beautiful from where we sat. The kway teow was lovely and the pau was great. It would be nice if the trees were lighted but as the sunset faded and the evening fell upon us, we got this fantastic view of the moon over KL from where we sat.



















The best was yet to come. We walked back to the theatre and the girls decided it would be fun to sit at the VIP balcony seats. So we walked upstairs. By the way, just like all old buildings, the ladies room was huge and right next to the aisle - great when you have kids. The ceiling was decorated with a huge kite design - I couldn't decide whether it was hideous or just plain. It was very cold. A baby grand piano looked lonely on stage.

Mouron appeared at 8.45pm - garbed in a non-descript gray suit. She gave an introduction to her first song about a man who would sing and sing... come what may.

Then she sang.

Mouron c'est VOIX. Mouron is emotion packed into a song. Each word was crystal clear and inundated with feeling and a story.Each song had an introduction and I loved this particular intro.

"When we have had enough of Paris, we would go to Marseilles.
In Marseilles, there are blue skies. There is calm. Above all, in Marseilles, there is the sea.
Give me waves Terry. Give me the sound of the waves.
And here is one of the most well known French love song."

As her voice faded into darkness, we knew her next song would be La Mer...


Mouron was theatric, funny and full of life. Her interpretation of Edith Piaf's La Vie En Rose was heart wrenching, her Un dessert au Desert was fun - she sang non-stop for an hour. Irani danced on the staircase, so moved she was by the music and familiar songs.

It was an enchanted evening - in more ways than we expected.

A fitting end to our celebration of the FAFF2010!

vendredi, mai 14, 2010

Family Friday

9.30am Irani at Perangsang Templar Golf Club














Went to Perangsang Templar Golf Club to check out Irani's swimming lessons. She was so happy to see both Rudi and I at the swimming pool. She is today the only sister who can swim properly and looked so carefree in the water!

Here she is with best friend Intan!

10.30am Ilena and Ikesha at Wet Water World






















The annual Wet Water Day with the Bomba is always a real treat for kids and parents alike. Ikesha just loved it! Ilena the veteran was in posing mode.

9.30pm French Immersion with Iman and Inas
































Inas's comment said it all,"Inspiring..."
Yes the movie had all the ingredients that a good real life drama should - economical in language, great period costumes, strong characters, tragic romance. Audrey Tautou was enchanting.
I remember the first French movie I took Iman & Inas to several years ago which featured the debut of Audrey Tautou.
















dimanche, mai 09, 2010

vendredi, mai 07, 2010

The light at the end of the tunnel


It is strange that Malaysians all around seemed to immediately pick up on the good feeling factor about the economy on the very same day - one day ahead of the newspaper announcements.

From boardroom meetings, to the hair-salon and pasar malam - idle conversations centered on how lucky the Mat Sallehs feel to be in Malaysia, looking ahead to a possible meltdown in Europe, on how many more ladies , men and teenagers are coming back to the hair salon to style up their coiffures. At the pasar malam, lazy chairs, carpets and other home decor items add to the normal staple groceries available.

Yes, Malaysians are smiling once again, it seems the good times are just around the corner.

Nevertheless, in some way or the other, the bleak uncertainties facing Europe and the US must keep us on our toes for no economy is insulated. This time around, let us make sure we keep the stringent measures in place, continue to reduce subsidies and keep the MACC pressure on.

lundi, mai 03, 2010

More On Public Relations

Obama On The Oil Spill: "I think the American people are now aware, certainly the folks down in the Gulf are aware, that we're dealing with a massive and potentially unprecedented environmental disaster. The oil that is still leaking from the well could seriously damage the economy and the environment of our Gulf states, and it could extend for a long time. It could jeopardize the livelihoods of thousands of Americans who call this place home." He added, "BP is responsible for this leak; BP will be paying the bill. But as President of the United States, I'm going to spare no effort to respond to this crisis for as long as it continues. And we will spare no resource to clean up whatever damage is caused."

Well said.

Obama On Times Square failed car bomb attempt: "I want to commend the work of the NYPD, the New York Fire Department, and the FBI, which responded swiftly and aggressively to a dangerous situation. And I also want to commend the vigilant citizens who noticed this suspicious activity and reported it to the authorities... We're going to do what's necessary to protect the American people, to determine who is behind this potentially deadly act, and to see that justice is done. And I'm going to continue to monitor the situation closely and do what it takes at home and abroad to safeguard the security of the American people."

The echo is deafening. Sounds like hollow PR to me.

Mishaps, misbehaviour - misflying?




The news constantly provide food for chatter no matter how old or how young you are. However, it was startling to see the general news today attracting seasoned adults and youngsters alike. On Facebook today, I saw some comments from young teens on the news.

From the tragedy of a teenager's untimely death for being at the wrong place at the wrong time to 747 Boeings hovering just above the highest point of the KL Twin Towers, many had a lot to say. And ala the New York population some time ago who got jittery when Air Force One was seen fying too low above the cosmopolitan, KLites were up in arms.


Now here is a PR exercise turned quite wrong. While it was a wonderful idea to bring cheer and joy to the 300 passengers of underprivileged and terminally-ill children, the panic it created showed a lack of concern for the very public MAS derives its income from.


Or is memory so short - that last year's news in the US failed to warn the MAS PR department that maybe it would be a good idea to inform the public of their good intentions - this could have been turned into a pre-event press release which would also boost the CSR stunt (yes, stunt it was)! Of course hind-sight is 20/20 but foresight in this instance would have showed a great deal of professionalism. As it is now, MAS had to backtrack and state all the reasons (which the public had no knowledge of) why the flight was safe, all safety conditions were met and the pilots chosen were the best for the job. What an end to a PR exercise with a whole dose of good intention.


And I would really like to know what was the role of a DCA air traffic controller on board ? Was he to be the escape clause if something went wrong?


Well, at least, this joy flight above the KL skyline showed me that young Malaysians care enough to read the news and debate on it. And that is a good thing, I am sure.

mercredi, avril 14, 2010

Not quite a fairy tale ending


This week is like a movie filled with broken dreams.

Tiger Woods was welcomed with no holds-barred-cheering from the gallery of ardent fans eager to see him triumph over this major 'life changing chapter' in his life. It was all love and great vibes on the first day of the Augusta National Masters. Tiger was smiling, the icy demeanour was gone etc etc etc. He came to Augusta to win, one way or the other.

By the end of it all, the press, and fans, were eager to turn on him and label Tiger Woods as the Bad Boy of golf as opposed to human story Good Boy Mickelson. I think it's great that Mickelson finally achieved what he set out to do at Augusta, perhaps benefitting from the intense scrutiny Woods never enjoyed while on the golf course pre or post scandal. Great that in their moment of intense pain, the Mickelsons could savour a momentous moment. But let's not cheapen his victory and joy with Amy by spinning off a Bad Boy Good Boy pow wow.

The fairy tale ending did not happen. Don't deny we all secretly hoped for it so that this terrible black spot on one of golf's greatest will finally go away. Quit with the labels, the over simplication of people's lives.

I am glad the guy is reevaluating the whole scenario [I really wanted to say circus]




Another broken dream. I was looking forward to seeing Rooney as the toast of the season - with a Man-U victory. Now, even Ferguson was the first to admit its unlikelihood.

Ahhh, Berbatov. All you had to do was to take the lead, rise and shine.

I am still looking forward to the World Cup but the EPL ended for me two days ago.


vendredi, avril 09, 2010

THE LURE OF MALAYA



In the last scene of Tim Burton's Alice In Wonderland, a map of Malacca leaps to attention. Map on the table, Alice rambles on about going on to China etc etc etc but I couldn't think of anything else except that map and all that it represented.

The lure of 19th century Malaya once called upon the world and held it spellbound. Among many others, Rudyard Kipling, Somerset Maugham and Anthony Burgess relied on Malaya for landscape and imaging of a forgotten era, the enchanted, and sometimes bizarre land in their best-sellers ...and French writer Henri Fauconnier's Prix Goncourt award winning book was a tribute to our country simply titled Malaisie. Chapter One begins;

Jikalau tidak karna bintang
masakaan bulan terbit tinggi
Jikalau tidak karna abang
masakan datang adek kemari


The French in particular, were fascinated by our pantun, with none other than Victor Hugo and his band of followers adopting pantoum for high fashion pastime. Francois Rene Daillie wrote in his book Alam Pantun Melayu with a tinge of patronising tone, "the pantun has never obtained the fame it deserves, in spite of its introduction into XIXth century poetry."

I, for one, long for the moment pantun is celebrated alongside Shakespere's sonnets and Japanese haiku for its ingenuity, form and sheer beauty. The pantun of old can be witty, passionate to the point of being downright erotic and hilariously funny. And always with a lesson to impart.

Well, the pantun evolves with the times. An sms competition is on-going at the moment up to the end of the month. The theme - 1Malaysia. I hope the beauty and wit does not suffer. At the very least, pantun is given a chance to return to the mainstream.

And I rejoice in that.

Note: I recommend this lovely book by Mak Ungku Azah Aziz for all Malaysian households.

mercredi, avril 07, 2010

FROM NADIA COMANECI TO WAYNE ROONEY



In 1976, life in Chenor Temerloh Pahang was idyllic. TV was not allowed except for the daily evening news, Friday night P Ramlee treat and bi-weekly Peyton Place soap opera. Grandmother, who was one of the most feared teachers at Sekolah Kebangsaan Bt Bota by its 184 students, did not believe in co-curricular activities, platonic friendship between boys and girl and lady drivers. So she was shocked and I was flabbergasted when one evening, my very religious and strict Grandfather asked me to stop my study session to watch Nadia Comaneci on the news.

Nadia Comaneci was my first ever sports idol. Until that fateful broadcast news, I had no idea what gymnastics was all about. For the next six years, gymnastics became a way of life, a discipline, an aspiration to be all that Nadia was. When she scored 10s, I was inspired, when she tumbled from the uneven bars in 1978 WC, my world crashed. School, even at the inspiring Seri Puteri, was something I went through in between gymnastic training gymnastic competitions and gymnastic performances at school shows, exhibition shows and at the palace during the King's birthday - I was the only drummer turning up for band practice straight from gymnastics in leotard and tracksuit. Sundays meant training at Stadium Negara with the SAGA team, school holidays were a blur of mini-bus rides to Pusat Sukan Kampung Pandan with team-mate Uyun. Every night I did splits and chest rolls on my dormitory bed, training my compliant and flexible body to bend to my will. Excursions were with the Selangor team-mates - Haryati, Shireen, Poh Chin, Bee Wan, Uyun, Shazlin, Wing Kong, Kok Keong, Michael Ng and more.And my tower of strength - my teacher, mentor, coach - Mrs Khaw Choon Ean. We went to Penang and trained under the sun at the Botannical Gardens with monkeys as our audience. We met Mok - the fearless power packed gymnast from Thailand who tumbled and twirled in the air effortlessly. It is hardly surprising that a few years later, I took the Greycoach all alone to francophone city Montreal to watch the World Gymnastics Championships. Ekaterina Szabo was all the rage and I was in gymnastic heavan.

A deep passion for gymnastics taught me the rigours, sacrifice and inner satisfaction that can only be derived from sports and the code of ethics of sportsmanship. I began to follow sports news and was a huge admirer of Mohamad Ali, Misbun Sidek and Carl Lewis. In later years, Torvill and Dean, Katarina Witt and Brian Olsen were exciting to watch on ice. Wayne Gretzky, the Canadian ice-hockey star was a national icon.

On the Malaysian front, Mokhtar Dahari, Santokh Singh and Soh Chin Aun were our own national treasures. Rabuan Pit was Asia's fastest man. Marina Chin, Mumtaz Jaafar and Shalin carried the mantle. Nurul Huda was unbeatable. Razif and Jailani made front-page news when they won the All-England in 1980. Triumphs at the Thomas Cup would result in genuine tears of happiness.

One of the epic moments in modern-day sports was the live telecast of 17 year old Michael Chang battling the almost clinical efficiency of Ivan Lendl for 4 hours at the 1989 French Open - it was one of the most memorable moments for me and my late father to watch Chang struggle from two matches down, cramps and all to finally triumph over Lendl.

When life threw a curve-ball and took a temporary set-back, I turned to sports to recover from the modern day plague - divorce. I ran at the Lake Gardens, played badminton and volleyball everyday for six months and lost 10 kgs. I fell in love with an avid footballer and naturally, interest in all things football blossomed. So much so, I became a World Cup addict, an EPL expert and MU fan. Then, at the EURO CUP 2004, Wayne Rooney thrilled everyone from tennis superstars to premiers and sheiks in the Middle East.

He had a bumpy ride, and Christiano Ronaldo's superstar status did well to let Rooney mature as a player. It would seem that he is expected to stake his claim at the World Cup together with Messi and Ronaldo - but I am sure millions are waiting to see if he can help England end its streak of unfulfilled World Cup dreams.

Just as millions are waiting to see Tiger Woods rise like a phoenix after falling from grace at the Augusta national Masters this weekend.

Today, Malaysia has a field of giant slayers like trail blazer Azizulhasni Awang and our own giants in the footsteps of Nicol Davids, Chong Wei and more. More importantly, we need to realise that sports is an integral part of producing a society of meritocracy. The drive for excellence is inherent in sports, no wonder the ancient Olympics was given so much prominence by the Greeks.

Embrace sports - and live a life guided by the codes of sportsmanship.

A French Liaison


When I was a not-so-little girl, among my favorite reads, Agatha Christie remained supreme. This was long before I discovered Dune and just a couple of years before I was introduced to Wuthering Heights. My larger than life hero then was Hercule Poirot. The famous Belgian extraordinaire was extremely clever and devious. Most of all, his little explosive French when the ordinary English fails to deliver was a delightful discovery for me. I would faithfully copy all the French words I could find and list them alphabetically. There was of course no internet in those early days and I did not have a French dictionary - so I spent many marvellous hours trying to figure out the meaning of the mysterious phrases.

Ottawa, Canada was the perfect place for me to pick up this long forgotten interest. Quirky and lovable French Professor Vincent Basseville's classes at Carleton U were hilarious and most of all - it was a miniature global village - there were Malaysians, Singaporeans, Spanish, Vietnamese, German, Trinidans and of course Canadian students in the class. Yes we were introduced to all the seven X three different tenses, genders and accents this way and that. That was excrutiating.

But it certainly added value to my visits to the exhilarating Montreal and beautiful Quebec City later on.
In 1990, I stumbled upon L'alliance Francaise Kuala Lumpur and met another wonderful French teacher Michele Tu. Not only did I continue my french classes, I performed a variety of cultural performances at af that year. The rambling bungalow in the midst of a natural garden on lorong gurney was a charming hideaway...

After 20 years, I make my way back to af. Iman and Inas, my spritely intelligent daughters are taking lessons as well as hubby, Rudi. The little French cafe is a delight and has introduced me to Azizah who makes the most delightful French toast and salads. There is a comprehensive library today and a TV tucked in the corner screening TV MUNDO. Here, we all meet and chat and have lunch every Saturday afternoon before the girls head for their music lessons. An idyllic petit les vacances.

We are planning for the ultimate holiday in France - It might take us another five years or so to save for this. Meanwhile, we sing songs like Caresse Sur L'ocean - Ilena does the soprano so well, Ikesha sings Dans pays espagne and dance to Loin de froid des decembre and Irani sings Alouette to YouTube and we all fall in love with 'Pierre Morhange'.

It's a beautiful dream...and an even more beautiful life.

lundi, août 31, 2009

The freedom to read, write and think

THIS MERDEKA I REFLECT UPON THE BOOKS WHICH HAVE SHAPED ME


To say I have always loved reading is a little bit of an understatement. Memories of me hiding in a corner with a book huddled closely to my chest was synonymous with my childhood. Mother and later grandmother often remarked upon this – especially when they could not find me. This was my first inkling that perhaps, I was a bit of a bookworm.

A love for other activities that came with reading and storytelling flourished. Writing, especially poetry, choral recitation, foreign languages, acting, publishing – from school magazines to newsletters to books, watching theatre and movies and later blogging and creating mini videos, came naturally to me. Every other hobby, like interior decorating, gardening, management, world folklore and Malay studies also resulted in voracious reading of the subjects.

There are many books that have marked the milestones of my life listed here hopefully as a suggestion for books to read. It records a careful study of the journey I have made according to timeline. While today, some authors are clearly favoured over the other - at different points in my life, a particular author simply enthralled me and I would read no other. The books and authors mentioned here are all favourites at one point or the other for me and my five girls.

Earliest books

Sandy Bay Street, Hobart, Tasmania. I was taken care of by Mum’s and Dad’s fellow students in between university lectures and odd jobs and a sweet old lady, Mrs Ruth Bowling. My earliest recollection was that of the Peter and Jane stories by Ladybird. Obviously, I could not really read very well yet so television was still the major source of entertainment. Rolf Harris shows were the best. So were the children shows, Skippy, the Bush Kangaroo and Lassie.
Five years later, we came home to Malaysia. The first day at St Clare Kindergarten in PJ is particularly clear in my mind. I remember obstinately told the teacher I could write my own name. The first real book I remember reading back then was Enid Blyton’s classic Bimbo and Topsy and The Three Golliwogs. I was particularly fond of my own golliwog. And Noddy’s adventure when his little car got a cold. Noddy treated it to a mixture of hot tea and lemon.

Kampung Life
I was sent to stay with my grandmother in our kampong Chenor, Pahang to study the Al-Quran when I was about ten years old and my mother brought me storybooks to read when she came to visit. We had an Encyclopedia set and lots of other Enid Blyton’s books especially The Naughtiest Girl in School and most of all, Nancy Drew books. At this time, my brother on the other hand read Tin Tin Comics which I loved as well and later in Canada, had the opportunity to read in French.
Grandfather was the headmaster of Sekolah Kebangsaan Bt Bota and grandmother was a teacher at the same school. Life then was idyllic. There were books abound, from the floor to the ceiling. It was paradise. I read Puteri Hijau, Puteri Gunung Ledang and cerita-cerita Hang Tuah. Hikayat Awang Sulong Merah Muda, Panji Semirang and Malim Deman were constant reading, even though I could not quite understand the flow and nuances yet. And I loved the Cerita Cerita Jenaka, Pak Kadok, Pak Pandir and Lebai Malang. I also read Shakespeare and the One Thousand Arabian Nights over and over again. One of my favorite stories in primary school was Urashimataro and The Turtle.

In guilty secret and constant fear, I read my auntie’s Barbara Cartland collection – I was whisked away to the lad of Gypsy Kings , Russian autocrats and damsels in distress - and my uncle’s secretly stowed away Harold Robbins books – I am sure mother would be horrified to read this – I was eleven! The Carpetbeggars made the biggest impression. No wonder grandmother could never find me for long periods of time. In the end, she just left me in peace until I was ready to emerge. I read behind curtains, up the rambutan tree, in the generator shed, under the house, in the toilet – much to the chagrin of my grandfather. I was forbidden to read in the toilet and I have obeyed this rule ever since - unless I find one there already.
Grandmother and I loved to watch Peyton Place every Tuesday and Thursday nights. I know now that Peyton Place was written by Grace Metalious and was considered to be outrageous in its time. What a strange mixture of influences for so young a girl. The truth is – I read everything I could get my hands on.
Poetry came naturally to me – literarily out of the blue and unstoppable. My first ever poem was about Florence Nightingale. It was about 20 lines long (5 stanzas). I also wrote short poems on Madame Curie and Helen Keller. I remember being very proud of my work and I showed it to my uncle Ghafar [not the owner of the Harold Robbin books – I have more than 10 uncles] – announcing that I wanted to be writer. It was not my first ambition though. When I was nine, I remember wanting to be an astronaut.

A One-Of-A-Kind Education

Boarding school life brought me to Sekolah Menengah Perempuan Jalan Kolam Air, renamed Sekolah Seri Puteri later. The school name was changed because we were constantly teased as the ‘Katak bawah tempurung’ who lived near the water pond by students of other residential schools. It was here that I met my English teacher and later, gymnastic coach, Mrs Khaw Choon Ean. She turned our English classes into a world of discovery. We learnt about the Bermuda Triangle, Nostradamus, time travel and many other mysteries. Reading books selected by her and books from our library boxes resulted in literary debates and exciting English classes. We were driven to do well in English. Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte, Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy and The Hounds of Baskerville by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle made the biggest impression on me. The latter spurred a continued love for Sherlock Holmes stories and Agatha Christie’s mysteries. The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde epitomed the study of insidious evil and Ivanhoe by Sir Walter Scott was utterly romantic. We read Mill On The Floss and Silas Marner by George Elliot and The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins. Mrs Khaw’s love for mysteries and science fiction led to us having to read The War Of The Worlds, The First Men On The Moon and The Invisible Man by H G Wells. Jules Verne’s Journey to The Centre of The Earth, Around The World In Eighty Days and Twenty Thousand Leagues were memorable. We also read, and loved books by Daphne Du Maurier, Victoria Holt and Phyllis Whitney. And SHE by H Rider Haggard. I remember Du Maurier’s Frenchman’s Creek and Jamaica Inn so well and a discussion on the Flight Of The Falcon. But the best of the lot was Rebecca. Another book that caused much debate in class was George Orwell’s Animal Farm. Til today, I still cherish my copy of Touch Not The Cat by Mary Stewart given to me by Mrs Khaw for coming in third place in a writing competition she organised.

Mrs Khaw also led a team of us to publish a monthly English Bulletin, The Grapevine. While we published articles and stories by all the students, I generally became the resident poet, so to speak. We would often discuss and dissect my poetry. Mrs Khaw taught me how to self critic, edit and analyse my writing. I had quite a few followers who would tell me how my poems affected them. Some poems that I remember being published were A Stranger, Revenge, Lily Of The Valley and The Band Life – In The Sun. When we were in Form Five, one of my dearest friends Shazlin included in her speech a poem I wrote about Nadia Comaneci.
This amazing English teacher also treated us to the movies – special class projects –Sealed with a Loving Kiss starring Mark Lester among others. We studied the lyrics and sang the songs Melody Fair and First Of May in class. We also saw Butterflies Are Free starring Goldie Hawn. The song Starry Starry Night, another class project, introduced the genius Vincent Van Gogh to us.
During our SPM exams, our beloved head warden treated all the fifth formers to the hotly debated movie The Blue Lagoon. And our history teacher encouraged us to watch Superman and Endless Love – the latter of which was earlier banned in Malaysia! I have excluded their names for fear of getting them into trouble. Another teacher, Cikgu Fawziah Ali made geography classes the most important subject when she was around. Suffice to say, we had one-of-a-kind teachers at Seri Puteri.
I would like to mention a temporary teacher who came to teach Bahasa. She introduced Shahnon Ahmad’s Ranjau Sepanjang Jalan which was the only book to ever make me cry when I finished reading it. It has remained my all-time favorite book in Bahasa. This teacher, whose face and mannerism I can recall so clearly remains a mystery to me today. I do recall that her father’s name is Ahmad Isahak. I was inspired to write a short story entitled Moyang in her class.

Sekolah Seri Puteri was like a fertile land, and we grew into adolescence to emerge like young saplings trees which strengthened with time. The roots of our foundation were deeply entrenched.

Oh! Canada
The very day I landed in Toronto, Canada, I bought two books at the airport, Clan Of The Cave Bear and Valley of The Horses by Jean M Auel. I am afraid my first few days in Canada were confined to staying in the hotel room and my new room in the basement of 18, Dianne Drive in St Catherines. I sat still, devouring every word Auel had written in these mammoth books. I also started my Agatha Christie’s collection with Death On The Nile. I remember buying a book every time I had to take a bus ride to Guelph or Toronto when visiting friends. Very soon after, I subscribed to Double Day Book Club and received a monthly featured book. This book collection, and those I bought and second hand shops and other bookstores was the treasure I horded home.
University life brought me to Ottawa. A Persian lady who lived directly below our apartment on Merivale Avenue, had a cat called Ming and one summer, she asked us to babysit Ming regularly. The perks – she had a great book collection. And she was the biggest fan of Tanith Lee. I was hooked. She gave me some of her extra copies of her Tanith Lee collection and I went on to start my own. My favourite is still The Birthgrave.

In the second year, I chanced upon Dune by Frank Herbert. I remember how I was sucked into a vortex leading to this new world of Arrakis. I lived and breathed the book. Dune The Messiah and Children of Dune were no less riveting. And on and on until I funished reading Chapterhouse Dune. We watched the much awaited movie by David Lynch. Until today. the Dune series have remained the most thought provoking books I have read. Here, I experienced true escapism into another world. Every phrase Frank Herbert wrote was a revelation. The Litany of Fear became my favourite quote. Paul Muad’dib was my dream hero.

One summer, I was browsing a second hand store and found The Lord Of The Rings. Again I was hooked from the first page and later on got The Hobbit and The Silmarrion as well. I am afraid by this time I was consumed by science fiction. Two other series I could not put down were the Dragon Lance Series by Margaret Weis and later, the Death Gate Cycle by the same author. Works by Ursula Le Guin like The Tombs of Atuan and C J Cherryh’s haunting Rusalka were past-time reading.
A chilling and memorable summer read was The Summer Of Katya by Trevanian. Cheah Chee Kong, a good friend introduced The Bourne Series by Robert Ludlum to me.
Ottawa was of course the capital of Canada and across the Rideau River, was Hull, Quebec. French was widely spoken. I took up French and for starters, read Archie and Tin Tin comics in French. Then I found Le Petit Prince by Antoine St Exupery which I must say is one of the most poignant and delightful reading I have ever known. Italian came next and one book project was The Marriage of Figaro - a comedy which we acted out in class..

Thirty Something Years
Back in Malaysia during the tail end of the economic crisis of 1988, I took a part-time job as a waitress at Pizza Hut. A portion of my meagre salary faithfully went to books and this has remained a practice with me until today. My library collection grew and Anne Rice especially her The Servant Of The Bones was a favourite during this time. Raymond E Feist’s and Janny Wurts’s Daughter of The Empire was a book I could not put down. Later my sister Farah introduced to me Faerie Tale by Feist. I continued to enjoy her selection particularly, An Instance of The Finger Posts by Iain Pears and Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood, the latter of which being the one and only book I have never been able to reread as I found the subject matter of a humanity and world too horrifying simply too disturbing.

Return to the Nursery
By the time Iman, my first daughter, was born I began collecting books for children. I bought all the fairy tales, and enjoyed Andrew Lang’s renditions and classics like Beatrix Potter’s Peter Rabbit Tales. A A Milne’s Winnie The Pooh and Enid Blyton’s The Wishing Chair and The
Faraway Tree Collection came back into my life. I read The Borrowers by Mary Norton, The Wind In The Willows by Kenneth Grahame and poems of the Flower Fairies by Cicely Mary Barker in adult life. Later the Harry Potter Series by J K Rowling, Artemis Fowl by Eoin Colfer and Mr Benedict’s Society by Trenton Lee Stewart were satisfying reads. We devoured Cornelia Funck’s Inkheart, Jeanne Du Prau’s City Of Ember and Kate DiCamillo’s Desperaux with just as much passion. Inas loved Madonna’s beautifully illustrated books especially The English Rose. All of them are exquisite books in beautiful hardcover and jackets.

Picture books School Bus by Donald Crews, Room on The Broom by Julia Donaldson [I used to conduct story-telling sessions in October reading this family favourite Halloween story], The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle became bedtime favourites.

A Hat for Ivan by Max Lucado and The Gingerbread Baby contained the most beautiful illustrations. The Adventures of Harold and The Purple Crayon by Crockett Johnson became a shared family treasure.

Our monthly outing was to MPH or Kinokuniya, Borders and The Times. During holidays, visits to bookstores and the museum was a must.

Harry Potter books and earlier DVDs for the younger ones are shared.

Of course I did not keep to children’s books. New writers and , and some old continued to enrich my life. Of note, Orhan Pamuk’s My Name Is Red, Shalimar The Clown by Salman Rushdie and The Reader by Bernhard Schlink.

My work at the Royal Lake Club saw me in charge of the Adult and Children’s libraries among other duties and I enjoyed this tremendously. I organised storytelling sessions and Member Authors luncheons. Under the advice of the Library Sub-Committee, we purchased books and held Book Sales.

Movies also introduced new books to read. Earlier movies like The Name Of The Rose by Umberto Eco and Cyrano De Bergerac by ____ compelled me to buy the same titled books. Later, The English Patient and Memory Of The Geisha are some examples. As for the girls, the movie Charlie and The Chocolate Factory introduced them, and me to Roadhl Dahl. The animated production of James and The Giant Peach was another classic which led us to the book.

Today


In my favorite corner at home, I have created a special shelf for books by Malaysian authors and enjoy Tash Aw’s latest, Prema Sinnadurai’s Evening is The Whole day and Malaysian born Chiew-Siah Tei’s Little Hut Of Leaping Fishes. Placed in prominence are my handsomely bound Sejarah Melayu, 101 Puteri Melayu, Merong Mahawangsa and many more Hikayat. Books by Professor Ding Choo Ming become my guide to Malay literature. I enjoy all Karim Raslan’s Ceritalah series and delight in the crisp manner Tunku Halim presented A Children’s History of Malaysia. The work of Faisal Tehrani especially 1515 is simply amazing. Autographed copies of Glimpses by Adibah Amin, An Old Man Remembers by Tan Sri Coco Majid and Dato Zaid Ibrahim’s In Good Faith share space on a common shelf. Just below, lies my prized signed copies of Gavin Menzies’s books 14 21 and 1434.

I have penned a few reviews, of particular interest, on Francois-Rene Daillie’s Alam Pantun Melayu, Prema debut album mentioned earlier and Henri Fauconnier’s Malaisie, winner of the Prix Goncourt, France’s highest literary award.

Today I enjoyed works by Murakami, Agatha Christie and revisit Salman Rushdie.

vendredi, août 28, 2009

Tunku says...



Today, on the way home, roads chocker-blocked with cars and drivers eager to get home for buka puasa or away for the Merdeka weekend, I heard a radio DJ recollecting that exactly 52 years ago, The Tunku announced his cabinet ministers, among others - Dato Abdul Razak, Colonel H S Lee, En Tan Siew Sin, En Sambanthan and En Khir Johari were called upon to serve. For one, I was amused to see all the Enciks seating on the highest seats of our young nation. Perhaps this kept them in touch with what the common people needed. Secondly, it is quite enlightening that Tunku drew upon such a diverse group to help him in his vision and cause for the nation.

A personal collection of my favourite quotes from The Tunku and what they mean to me:

It is the duty of each and everyone of us living in this country, to ensure peace for all time

What does this mean for the man on the street? For you? For me? As a mother, I try to instil this quest for peace in my children , even when at times you have to speak out and speak up. To stand for what you believe in while appreciating your friends' beliefs - or religion. And yet to understand that not all are willing to hold out a friendly hand -to face bullies with courage and acceptance that some people will have to determine their own path. To have empathy for the weak and poor.

In my career, I try to embrace my colleagues. And it is amazing that the same rules which apply at my daughters' school, resurface here. However, at work I am driven towards excellence, sometimes that does not make peaceful collaborations possible. We can only do so much.

As a writer, I try to bridge the past and present. The young and the old. The sentimental romantic and the practical perfectionist.

Now, if that is not peace-keeping, what is?

Every man thinks of his race as superior, but if we continue with this line of thinking, we only invite trouble

Here, The Tunku sheds light on his uncanny insight to the nature of man. Coupled with his wit, he used his extraordinary gift of bridging differences and making true men follow his leadership.

Above all, we must give this nation our absolute loyalty, and may it continue to give us shelter and protection for all time - God be praised

This country is a secular state.

The Tunku once again displays his complete mastery over the written word.

He does not say our country is a Muslim state. It is a country where one and all can enjoy the freedom of religion.

I thank God for my mother's continued wisdom, for my family, for placing friends and mentors in my life who have given me so much - my daughters, my husband, my sisters and brother, my grandmother who told me the Hikayat of old and watched Peyton Place with me, my grandfather who was the strict and religious headmaster yet kindly Tok who loved Nana Moskouri and insisted I watched Nadia in 1976, the extravagant and worldly grandfather and gracious grandmother who was a great cook who introduced me to her lovely garden, Mak Ungku and her wonderful stories, Puan Sri Nik Daud and her guidance, En Jon [another Encik who understands what needs to be done], my SSP friends, teacher and gymnastic coach, Mrs Khaw, Datin Vasanthi, Trevor Padasian, Datuk Feisol, Mr Nyam and daughter, Michelle Nyam, the late Mrs Ruth Bowling, Prof K T Joseph, Prof Vincent Basseville, my friends Lai, Simon, Cheah, Mac, Kahar, Nasran, Rahman, Lynn, Kak Julie Sudiro, the late Auntie Yah, and most of all my late father who taught me the importance of saying Thank you and being true to yourself - even when you are incapable of remembering yourself.

lundi, août 17, 2009

Questions Questions Questions


The newspapers and Internet try to answer the questions of the hungry public. It seems to me that we all react to questions that surround our lives.

Is there a conspiracy to make sure everyone is vaccinated by December 2009 - thus reviving a sluggish pharmaceutical industry? And in the process kill tourism? Kill the economy? Kill spontaniety?

Can Barack Obama really deliver when it comes to the issues that affect the whole population - like health care?

IS THE WORLD GOING TO SURVIVE GLOBAL WARMING?

Was that really Michael Jackson who died?

Are our public buildings and highways safe?

What happened to Tiger Woods? Way to go, Yang!

Does it really matter? My take ?

What really matters to me is how can I convince my kids they can do something about H1N1. They can protect themselves by wearing a mask, sanitizing as often as possible and staying away from crowds for the time being.

I would like my daughters understand enough of history to know that what Obama achieved was unthinkable just around the time I was born.

I would rejoice if the girls are empowered enough to think they can make a difference by cleaning up the community park, bringing a grocery bag when shopping and opening the tap only when it is time to gargle after they have brushed their teeth.

Can they see the good in Michael and appreciate the songs he created so that we - a generation apart -can share his music? And realise that there are very few who can survive the glare of limelight for four decades - and survive - while still being able to thrill generations of people with a flick of a hand, a beguiling innocent smile and the stillness of presence...

I want them to read the news to know that the public needs to be informed and we need check and balance to ensure those in charge are responsible and accountable. And sometimes expose is necessary so that we can begin to weed out the bad apples.

If Tiger Woods can be caught by surprise, so can the rest of us. No matter who you are - the Lee Chong Weis, the Hamiltons and the Nadals of this world. Winning - and losing is part of the game. Part of the thrill. Part of the heart-renching disappointment.

lundi, mai 04, 2009

The weekend

The weekday features a world facing the H1N1 pandemic, the economy is bumpy and it seems as if everyone has an axe to grind.

Then the weekend arrives and the girls have their tarian practice, there's bicycle rides in the evenings and badminton reserved for classic comic video moments too. Piano lessons and impromptu dancing. Ikesha is beginning to find her rhythm.

The girls get to sleep with us and there's storytelling before bedtime. Or Nanny Mc Phee. Or Langkasuka. Or Sound of Music which still makes me teary. Breakfast at Medan where the girls attract the attentions of the boys and Rudi gets the stares from the young ladies. Taekwondo for Irani. Groceries for everyone. Hair cut and shampoo for everybody once a month. maybe a picnic at Templars park or a movie.

Dinner together and hugs and preparation for school again. Daddy clips the little girls nails.

And whispered gossip, reminders and kiss kiss kiss for 5 girls before they go to bed.

What would we do without weekends?

Langkasuka The Movie


Rudi asked me to watch a Thai movie last night , The Queens of Langkasuka - the story of Raja Haejoo, Raja Beeroo and Raja Agnhu.

Of course I recognised them for our own Ratu Hijau, Ratu Biru and Ratu Ungu of Patani in the late 1600s(ref:101 Puteri Melayu by Museum Negara)

The movie had me spellbound, the set, the costumes, the historical background. The royal palaces were vividly detailed, the costumes of Malay royalty and nobility rich and the ships resembling the lancang kuning, magnificent.

It was action packed, creative and more. History, myth and storytelling morphed into a timeless classic. Though it was a Thai production, my appreciation soared - I look forward to more productions of this nature.

Thank you Rudi for knowing me so well.

samedi, mars 28, 2009

60 Earth Hour


Here we are at home Iman Inas Irani Ilena Ikesha Megat Alysha Azreen Aqib Tiara And Bik celebrating Earth Hour.

We are having a picnic in the garden and Inas Iman & Megat have put up candles all around.

Irani wants to be a star

Inas wants to be a dancer on planet Mars

Iman wants to be a super student

Alysha dreams of being kindergarten teacher, photographer and fashion designer
and to travel the world

Ilena says she is the Island girl

Megat thinks he is going to be a hero

Aqib wants to get married buy a house and become a cartoonist

Azreen wants to be a super girl

Tiara wants to be a cat girl

Bik wants to go back to Indonesia for Hari Raya

I have all I want with Rudi by my side but would love Hikayat to be published this year

Ikesha wants to blow out all the candles

dimanche, septembre 07, 2008

History, revisited

On 31st August 2008, we celebrate our country’s re-birth as a nation.
Rebirth? Our land is much, much older and ancient and here, we recall the continuum
of history that is preserved through the very legends of the land.




History, revisited


Our history spans more than a millennia. Our legends, ancient.

There is certainly a continuum of history that is preserved through the very legends of our land…and through our even more ancient jungle. That is why there must be effort and emphasis to preserve our legends and our million year old forest land, subjective purpose to many, but crystal clear in fact.

Researchers and historians worldwide accept that The Malay Annals, Hikayat Hang Tuah and Hikayat Seri Kelantan are clear indications of historical governance. Ruud Spruit, Director of the National Museum, Denmark recounted the Malay Annals as ‘a mixture of classical romance and factual description.’

When Tomes Pires, the visitor in Malacca in the late 1500s, recounted in his Somu Oriental the story of the Hindu prince Parameswara from Palembang who commanded his Orang Laut circa 1400s, his version closely corresponded to that of the Malay Annals. The records of the Raja of Perak, Johor and Pahang continue from this legacy.

Hikayat Merong Mahawangsa chronicled the Kedah Sultanate, arguably the earliest in our history.

These legends, are every bit as historical in value as many great monuments of history. The Ancient pyramids remained as meaningless structures until Francois Champollian unleashed the language of the Pharaohs in the 17th century and the world over became familiar with the feats of Isis, Heracles and Cleopatra. It is high time we brought our legends forth to be recognised as they offer a glimpse of the rich heritage and diverse legacy we share. For instance, the Chinese Princess, Hang Li Po, gave birth to the unique Peranakan legacy in Malacca which survives until today. Our legends are our very own legacy that preserves the idea of a country…our land that is old, cultured and civilised.

In the past, travellers like the legendary Admiral Cheng Ho were charmed by what they found in our land, most of all our people’s character and gentlemanly conduct. How unfortunate that the great Admiral’s records were destroyed by the Tang dynasty. Writers like Rudyard Kipling, Joe Conrad and Somerset Maugham and historians like R O Widstedt, who researched the Malay Annals extensively, were equally fascinated by the people and the rich history, the tapestry of life that was Malaya.


The Golden Era

For one thousand years, our land has been the choice destination of the world.

The busiest natural waterway in the world was, and still is, our very own Straits of Malacca. This has remained undisputed for the last five centuries, if not longer. Along this wonderful route, people have tasted our hospitality and loved our people. Some stayed on, many returned to their own lands with stories and tales ever fascinating. Ptolemy, the Greek geographer and astronomer circa 150 AD, named this land, Chersonese Aurea – The Golden Peninsular based on the description and stories of navigators and travellers then who constantly sought new worlds.

And stories, the favourite pastime of old were shared throughout the region. As such, there are quite a few art forms that transcend boundaries and belong to the whole Nusantara and beyond – the Wayang Kulit, Mak Yong and the art of Storytelling are among the few. It remains that these stories are generally Malaysian legends, differing from those told in its originating country. The Wayang Kulit’s version of Hikayat Maharaja Wana has undergone layers and layers of assimilation from the original Ramayana chronicles, a far, far spin-off from the original..

For many centuries, all cultures converged in the melting pot that was the trade routes to Malacca. At one point, close to 90 languages were spoken in Malacca by all the different people who populated or visited the ancient cosmopolitan city. The peninsular was a bridge, geographically and rhetorically speaking to all that was the Nusantara – in other words, South East Asia! All forms of daily aspects, rituals, entertainment and business converged here to evolve into our own identity for centuries.

Malaysia is truly the land of a thousand legends, a million people, of infinite smiles. And let us celebrate the millennia that has made our country the unique and beautiful land it is.

Happy Merdeka!

Evening Is The Whole Day


A Book Review by ninotaziz

A book is destined to be a wholly satisfying read when its first opening paragraph grips you with vise-like wonder and enchantment. Normally, this first encounter encourages one to immediately buy the book, rush home, sit in favourite corner with cup of tea and chocolates ready, and begin to devour its content immediately, tea and chocolates left untouched until the first few chapters are over and the tea too cold to savour.

Evening Is The Whole Day is such a book. From the moment I read Preeta Samarasan’s first penned line which is a lovely and graceful description of Peninsular Malaysia “There is, stretching as a bird’s head from the thin neck of the Kra Isthmus, a land that makes up half the country called Malaysia,” I was hooked. One thing for sure, I would never look at the map of Malaysia the same way again, so lyrical and poignant was the rest of Samarasan’s prose in describing our land. Etched in my mind is the image of a graceful swan.

STORYLINE
The story begins with the sacking of a young servant girl at THE mansion on Kingfisher Lane, Ipoh, The Big House – very blue and meandering house at that. Though the reader is told her tragic end, her dismissal is full of innuendoes which set the stage for the unfolding story with shocking and surprising secrets - revealed as matter of fact. The author employs extremely effective staging and build-up of the ordinary to often extraordinary conclusion.

The setting alternates between Malaysia of the 1980s and pre-Merdeka days from the time Kuala Lumpur, Penang and Ipoh were burgeoning into existence in the 1890s.

The characters , all equally provocative and well-conceived with depth, centred around a very well-to-do Indian family from the time ‘in 1899, Appa’s grandfather sailed across the Bay of Bengal to seek his fortune under familiar masters in a strange land...’ The household was coming to grips with its place in Malaysian society and surprised by the ideals, perceptions and political ramifications surrounding them.

Samaresan weaves fact and fiction seamlessly creating a wondrous and believable story, which is why it continues to draw its reader deeper and deeper into the story. One is very much aware that the story is full of interweaving plots as such the reader tends to read the book very carefully, so as not to miss out any nuances for what might come next.

PROSE
It is by pure coincidence that I sat down to read EITWD on the very same date the book started its narration of Malaysia in the 1980s. Therefore, the descriptive certainly rings true even today, “the afternoon rains...aglow with winding lines of watery yellow headlights that go on forever.” But then again, it is not this familiarity alone that kept me spell-bound. Many a book had this effect before – Wuthering Heights by Charlotte Bronte, Cave of the Clan Bear by Jane M Auel, Dune by Fank Herbert come foremost to mind, not to forget, God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy to which this novel has been compared to, time and again for more than one reason. The evocative prose strike at the very heart of an avid reader.

Samarasan’s strength lies in her command of the narrative, her prose plays with all senses, cajoles one to look at things in a new way altogether.

She has woven her characters so well that when Aasha peeps under the curtain, I peep too. When Mr Mc Dougall’s daughter’s ghost describes her death, I see the very last light she saw, when Patti feels her shame at her body’s refusal to behave with dignity in old age, I feel her shame and a slight apprehension of the future. This is a very sensual experience, sensual in the sense that the book embraces its characters and their lives thoroughly, the good, the ugly, the inevitable. Not to mention the beauty of life and the horror of one's falling from grace at times so closely bound together.

The author is generous with her unique metaphors that bring to mind the rich visual and the emotive surroundings for the characters. Her interplay between the real and the perceived world is seamless.

Nevertheless, the assault of the senses can be quite overwhelming at times. There are scenes where the author takes you from the innocent to abject sadness and brutality, then straight into Kafka-like ridicule. It is almost as if Samaresan wants to force a rollercoaster emotional ride onto the reader. Here is where one takes a sip of tea, the need to pause is so strong, then to carry on with the rest of the book.

The pace is well-timed, alternating between the going-ons of the Big House household and that of the nation, back and forth, tunnelling through time-machines. It is both languid and descriptive so that we can appreciate the characters, also fast and driven so that we are thrown into the chaotic circumstances. The effect is certainly compelling.

INSPIRING
Evening Is The Whole Day is a mesmerising and inspiring read. It has all the ingredients of a one-of-a-kind novel moving in tandem with its historical background - despair , comic, innocence – and a certain kind of magic needed to pull it altogether.

As a writer, I can almost feel all the dedication, love and most of all creative genius that Preeta Samarasan has poured into her first book. I am sure it was a process of ‘menatang minyak penuh’. I imagine her excitement, calm research, sleepless nights, and yet her confident execution of each word, the purpose and journey of the book until the last page marks the end of this adventure. I cringe to think of her upcoming days as an author after such brilliance, page after page. The fact that Samarasan has her roots in Malaysia certainly adds but does not detract from her powerful work. She is a talent unleashed, a world class writer.

Having said that, Samarasan has certainly captured the very essence of our country’s milieu, issues and coming of age like no other. It is a book that is actually painful for a Malaysian to read, the author has pulled out all punches to be true to the story and is unapologetic if the truth hurts. She chose to portray the general hatred that was the platform of the terrifying 1969 riots instead of highlighting the inspiring few who acted beyond the racial divide. As I said earlier, the truth hurts. At the same time, it is a book that Malaysians should read with an open mind, with a readiness to eat (being Malaysians), grow up, love, hate and live in their neighbour’s shoe truthfully – not with tolerance.

Simply a sensational debut for an author as ready as ever to take on the literary world.

ninotaziz
ninotaziz is the author of several books, specialising in Malaysian heritage and legends, including ‘From The Written Stone’ and ‘From The Gathering’. ‘From The Written Stone’ was one of the BITARA AWARDS recepients – 2007. Her work is inspired by the beauty of the Malay language and the folklores her mother and grandmother tell throughout the years.

Her current book projects include ‘HIKAYAT - From The Ancient Malay Kingdoms’ which comprises her works on ‘ Heroes and Princesses’, ‘From the Ancient Arts’ and ‘Tales From the the Jungle Deep’. She is also finalising a series of Malaysian legends specifically for young children.

Her claim to writing reviews, according to her comes from,’a life-long inherited passion for reading and the world of books.’The writer can be contacted at ninotaziz@yahoo.co.uk or at www.ninotazizpurplemusings.blogspot.com

dimanche, septembre 03, 2006

Rekindling Passion



During my 41st birthday celebration with close friends, friends who knew me through my teen, tried and tested years, one asked me casually how do we rekindle passion. At the time, I thought…one of those questions we all ask but never answer and left it at that. But suddenly, in the middle of the night, the nagging curiosity got the better of the writer in me. I began to realize that all of us should be asking ourselves this question. No matter how happy, how troubled, how satisfied, how contented. Remember the saying - content breeds contempt.

There is nothing that is going to be X-rated here. Discussion of what goes on between a man and wife is, after all, haram. However, I felt the topic merited attention because, in the course of daily turmoil … some things like affairs of the heart and passion just get pushed back, ignored, put off. And suddenly, 3 months later, you wonder, what happened?

Okay, I have justified to myself why I should write this piece. Even thinking about passion brings guilt to mind. Liberated woman – hosh posh. Our culture and upbringing still continue to play its vital role of shaping my values after all that reading, traveling, living. As some of you put it, after five girls, Ninot. Five girls!

Let’s start with le boudoir. What is romance without a little French. Anyway, I am simply referring to the enclave, your romantic and naughty area - the bedroom. Is this where it all starts…or restarts?

Hell no…did you fall in love with your current beau in the bedroom? Of course you did not. Your first moment could have been at the movies, on a sailing boat, registering for that Economics 101 or Calculus 100 class, etcetera. For me, as some of you know, it was at the volleyball field. Why that moment changed your life forever? Who knows. But it did.

Love swept your raging hormones (this is how my number one puts it when she has a crush…blame it on the raging hormones).

Anyway, you can’t just walk into your bedroom after a hard day’s work…at home or at the office and expect to enjoy a night of torrential d’amour. We deserve better. But we have to work a bit at it. Build the mood. Do something different. Please don’t only use that expensive J’adore or Chanel No 5 to the office or special occasions. I remember how devastated I was when my certain favourite scent of the 1990s was discontinued, Shiseido’s Fragrance Du Bois, something like that…when I had it, I need not even be there for Rudi to think of me. All I had to do was leave a scent on a card, at the door, on the bed when I am working late, on his car keys…he’d be ringing all day.

I love to read. I pour over Frank Herbert, Tanith Lee, Dan Brown, Leo Tolstoy, Charlotte Bronte, Stephen Covey, the works. A current sample of my bedtime reading today would include John Grisham, Orhan Pamuk and Salman Rushdie. Yet, once a while, I would read something like, How to Make Love to Your Man (bought at MPH, mind you) and browse through the RM 200 EROS I ordered through The Good Book Guide from London or 22 Tales of Erotism and Mysteries. Just for fun.

Pamper yourself. It doesn’t take much. My grandmother’s recipe for the ultimate bath still works wonders for me. Mandi Serum – Boil leaves of serai wangi, pandan, lengkuas, jambu batu and squeeze 7 limau nipis into the concoction and have the most refreshing hot bath ever. I have all the above in my small garden, wherever I am.

Never let too much time go by. We ladies can get by without the physical attachment for sufficiently long periods. We can dream, fantasize etcetera. Not men. Passion, sex, making love, whatever it’s called, is a physical need that has to be relieved for them. If your doctor tells you your pregnancy is problem free, have fun til the very end. It also speeds up the baby’s arrival. Trust me on this.

And then, exercise. Not necessarily to get in shape. Just to feel good about yourself. To feel positive. There are hormones that comes with exercising that simply encourage you in this direction. Help you feel sexier.

What I love the most is giving each other a good rubdown or massage. Simple massages – the soles. The shoulders. The back of the neck. Seemingly so innocent.

Most of all, talk to your other half about everyday things. The bills, Mahathir’s tiff with Pak Lah, the budget, whatever. Then talk casually about what you’d like to do for each other, to each other two days before you actually do anything. Think about it. Dream about it. Make sure when you tell him you miss him, he is fully aware of what you miss. It takes a little bit of courage. Try it. Even SMS it.

By the way, most of the things I have suggested here are things we do for ourselves. Not for our partner. For when we love ourselves, treat ourselves right, feel good, that’s when we can make things happen.

Going back to culture and upbringing, I think we should not hide away from discussions on sex with our daughters. When mine were very, very young and asked me about where babies came from, I told the girls that a baby was one of the nicest wedding presents from Allah. Today, when they ask me about ‘what you do in the middle of the night’ or ‘what you do to get a baby’, I tell them Daddy and I enjoy one of the loveliest gift Allah bestowed a husband and wife. And they go...EEE! And pretend to close their ears. Then I tell them what my mother told me… be sure to be married first. So many wrong things can happen. The wrong guy…no matter how nice they are. He could be wrong for you. Aids. Unwanted babies you can’t take care of. Broken dreams. Missing out on college. Not to forget the burden of dosa. Marriage comes with all sorts of commitments.

But never turn passion into a shameful topic.

It is one of the most beautiful gifts. Enjoy it.

samedi, juillet 22, 2006

Bacalah

In the last ten years or so, more and more works by our fellow Malaysians like Rani Manicka, Azizi Ali, and Adibah Amin (‘cikgu’) , not to mention Club member and author, Lillian Too, who wins hands down in terms of number of book sales, have enjoyed tremendous success.

There is a growing and determined crop of writers, no matter how daunting the challenges of the publication world, who have prevailed to see their words of wisdom, wit and genius fly off the printing press. And into this growing intelligentsia, Tash Aw, Taipei born, Malaysian bred and today, citizen of the world, breaks into the scene with his Whitbread First Novel award winning The Harmony Silk Factory. I am proud to know he used to run around the Royal Lake Club in his swimming suit and spent many hours at one of my favourite places at the Royal Lake Club, the Children’s Library.



This surely is indicative of a growing community of Malaysian readers and writers, passionate and knowledgeable enough about their areas of expertise to share their views, despite the laments we hear and read on Malaysiakini.com on the lack of reading habits, a culture of learning and openness among Malaysians. Writing, and writing well can only be born of a love for reading and deep research unless your surname happened to be Bronte, and the love for writing came from hours of fantasy play, a streak of genius and a love for the moors of Yorkshire.

A few years back, a Club survey was conducted to see which activity or recreational facility was the most popular. It was certainly not surprising to note that the Library came out tops (a good reminder at this juncture when the ‘powers that be’ in the Club think about redevelopment – the Library really needs more space to accomodate its growing number of readers). It brings a measure of pride to see that there is a multitude of members who contribute to the reading materials as well, so much so that this August, the Club is able to organise the Anniversary Tea Session to honour many of these writers and to invite members to meet them in person for exchange of ideas.

But the fact is that the Club, while it reflects the society we live in, is really an enclave of the privileged. Which means, the children of the Club are privileged to be able to read by the time they received their pink membership card, and the adult members, either had an early love for reading, or now invest more and more time into reading, thus are privileged to enjoy all the plusses that reading brings about. The reading habit endows a reader with knowledge, confidence, communication skills and spurs the gift of creativity - all the qualities to portray the successful.

It however remains true that the rest of the country has had a tough time embracing the habit of reading. 2 years ago, the Minister of Education made a statement at one of the many ceremonies he attended and said, “...we must ensure that as we prepare our children for a very different world than the one in which we grew up, we do not neglect to equip them with the core human values which have not changed since the time the Prophet Muhammad - may peace be upon him, Aristotle and Confucius.” At the same occasion , he also urged Malaysians to rethink and re-appraise our core commitments as human beings, as parents spouses, employers, employees and citizen.

I can hardly remember the rest of the speech, but this particularly comment struck me because every muslim child knows that the first ever revelation to the Prophet Muhammad s.a.w started with the single command ‘Iqra’ or ‘Bacalah’. In that one little word, lies the essence of religion, a drive for knowledge to make us a better person, a better people. We know this and yet, we are not doing enough. Perhaps most significantly as parents, as individuals, as a workforce, as citizens.

The Reading Promotion Policy was initiated to implement the objective of the National Library of Malaysia under the National Library (Amendment) Act 1987 (Act A667) Part II Section 4(2)(m )which is 'to promote and facilitate the development of the reading habit'. This policy is in line with the strategy of the National Policy on Library and Information Services article 4.7.5: 'to instill and to develop a reading habit'.

Its objectives are many, among which are to:
· To raise an awareness of the importance of reading to the Malaysian society.
· To cultivate interest and develop the reading habit among Malaysians.
· To raise the reading standard of Malaysians.
· To promote a lifetime of learning and love for knowledge.

Almost 20 years on, we need to gauge our real progress. Otherwise, policies will be just that, policies - unless we ensure its implementation and results.

A Club member once said to me, ‘I do not want to tolerate my neighbours (referring to the often tooted calls for a tolerant society) I want to understand and appreciate them.’ Understanding can come easier with a sincere effort to learn about each others ways and tradition, and we can only do this in two ways - through experience or through reading. Perhaps reading, together with other core values, can help make a difference in our goals for a Muhibbah society.

If only we remember that our children can love that which they have been exposed to. Glenn Doman, author of How To Teach Your Baby To Read, maintains that since a child learns the most between the time he is born until he is about 5 years old, reading and any other quest for knowledge should be instilled within this period, long before most little toddlers even step into a Library. The most successful mothers in carrying out the Glenn Doman Method have been those who start their children early and display “an almost ‘dumb-blond-like’ enthusiasm” for every progress the child makes in reading. The child responds positively and yearns to do even better at reading. Whatever you do, whether reading to your child at bedtime, making trips to the library and the book store a weekly or monthly ‘special occasion’ or starting book projects - all this helps a child to love reading from an early stage, a beautiful gift which would stay with them for a lifetime, no matter how enjoyable that computer game or Barbie doll mansion are.

And that is the best gift a parent can give – the joy of reading, a burning quest for knowledge.

For life.

I would like to say a little thank you to Mr Eric Baxendale – he urged me one day while we were having tea at the Lobby Cake Counter, to start writing again before the toils of work drown me and whatever penchant I had for writing dissappears again...

mardi, juin 20, 2006

The Pioneers - Felda Lurah Bilut



Lurah Bilut. 1958.A small settlement on the fringe of the deep and dense jungle of Pahang.

This FELDA documentary caught my eye some years ago. The feature was on its first ever settlement in the country. Tunku Abdul Rahman and Tun Razak’s pet project on rural development. An economic experiment.No more, no less. Or did the future of rural development lie in this one settlement?

It is today, a showcase for the pioneering spirit of the times. The pride and joy of the FELDA project as many of its original settlers have turned millionaires. Who could have seen how far FELDA was to have ventured? Even in its inception, it was not clear where the project would land itself. This was not a project that would manifest itself within a specific number of years. It was not measured by physical scales...whether it was the tallest, highest or biggest there was.Its success was measured by the enduring spirit of pioneers, belief and sweat. Such was the visionary powers of these two leaders.

Why did this particular documentary catch my eye?

I remembered vaguely that my late grandfather used to teach in Lurah Bilut in the 1960s. We used to laugh over stories how the whole family including 8 children all of school going age had to ‘meredah hutan’ to reach the settlement. And how in love my grandmother must have been to have followed him into such wilderness.

I immediately asked my mother after watching the documentary about the story behind the move to Lurah Bilut. It turned out that grandfather was the first ever headmaster for the school which opened in 1961.She related stories of how he took on the Minister of Education at the time, demanding for chairs and tables before the school starts.

I then remembered other little things about grandfather, gently hinting at the nature of the man, rather ahead of the times, eccentric, yet staunchly committed to the appearance of the conservative scholar. Rather like Sherlock Holmes, the epitome of an Englishman, yet forgiven for his discretions like cocaine addiction and overbearing superior complex[Holme's I mean!}.

Unique, nevertheless.

To be continued...

lundi, juin 19, 2006

World Cup 2006



Mr Kofi Annan, I agree with you whole-heartedly.I loved your article, and felt the same yearning for worldwide fairplay on a level playing pitch...unlikely though it may be. A world where it doesn't matter whether you are poor or rich...where talent and teamwork make the difference. Perhaps the secret of the World Cup phenomenon lies in the fact that it is something you yearn for, it only comes once every four years. As if humanity needed to wash away all the bigotry and dirt with a dose of good old fashioned sportsmanship.

As I sit here admiring Spain's grit and determined attack on Tunisia...the game is still on, I marvel at the way the World Cup continues to be a sort of home coming for me.Though Rudi teases me relentlessly about the real reason I love the World Cup and the England team so much when I just scan through the English Premier League, the fact is I feel closest to my late Dad during this time. We used to stay up late night and debate on the outcome, him being such an ardent fan of Argentina and me of Brazil at the time made for heated father and daughter predictions. But then, we watched great tennis and badminton matches with almost the same passion.Today, Dad and I would have been formidable contenders for all trivia contest as he would be spot on on most of the difficult questions on football.

It is no wonder that Rudi and I share the same enthusiastic passion for this festival of sorts. Rudi was after all a footballer and a striker at that. Part of our family outings included picnics while cheering him on the field. Still he frowns when his six month pregnant wife stays up to the wee hours of the morning to watch a game or two. He hates the England side...and couldn't understand why I was so upset when Rooney was first injured. I argued that the World Cup this year needed the likes of Rooney, Torres and Critiano Ronaldo as the days of Ronaldo, Figo and Zidane come to a close...albeit to an illustrious career in football.

This year, Iman takes part in this cyclic tradition as she cheers on her favorite team, Italy. While Italy is not doing too well at this stage, Iman is a true fan of the Italian League and can rattle of teams and players in the way I rattled about Pahang players when I was twelve. The other day, we argued about how Uruguay was pronounced and I was so overwhelmed by the thoughts of Dad. How reminiscent. Dad and I had the same little discussion so many World Cups ago...and I stood corrected. And here I was, telling my daughter not to take this on with me...for her grandfather had put me in my place...there were still many lessons in this world that I could learn from him no matter how far I've journeyed. He was so right. 4 years gone, and I am still learning from him.



Perhaps this year, his Argentine side would thriumph.

As he has.
Related Posts with Thumbnails