Will be missing them very much...

I will always treasure this little face. Cheeky smile, radiant eyes, beautiful dimples…

His name is ARS. His father – a Ph.D student whom I co-supervise. His father S, has just passed his viva with flying colours, Alhamdulillah…

What is so special about ARS, his father, his mother and 2 other siblings?

As a start, they are from Gaza, Palestine. Let me share the story. The beautiful moments, the opportunity that Allah gave my husband and I, to be able to get to know them, to interact with them, to share meals with…and many more…

And then, it is their hospitality, humbleness, steadfastness and piousness. I have been to their abode a couple of times. Each time, Samy’s sweet wife R, would prepare sumptuous food. So delicious that I have asked recipes from her. Delicious spreads on the table and healthy food too! No oil, no frying. Just baked, boiled or prepared fresh…

We were there for iftar during Ramadhan last year. I felt very humbled, the fact that S and R are able to maintain their wudhu’ (ablution for prayers) for hours on end. While my husband and I had to wash and take our wudhu’ for prayers, S and R were ready with the prayer mats all laid down. Deep down, I felt a little ashamed… While ARS and his elder brother M would follow behind S and my husband who led the prayers, R would be holding little baby N on her waist while we did our prayers together. N sort of understood that her mum was doing the solat, while ruku’ and sujud, clasping awkwardly on to her mum, quietly…no complaints…unlike other babies we normally see…crying their hearts out while mum is praying.

I did ask S how he would be able to cope when he gets back home. Here, all the facilities are well provided for. S just shrugs his shoulders and would say, “We will get by. We are used to it. The children will be trained in time. There, water supply is only a few hours per day. Electricity too, only 1 hour a day. But, never mind, no worries, we will be able to cope, Insha Allah.” I just cannot imagine. I realize that we are really spoilt and taking things for granted here in Malaysia.

S’s presence here at the School of Electrical & Electronic Engineering, USM Engineering Campus, has brought me much joy. After all, it is very seldom that you get to receive from students whom we supervise, right after any consultation sessions, messages such as “May Allah bless you, my kind Dr.,” or “Thank you very much for your doa. May Allah bless you and your family.” What more coming from God fearing and very highly motivated Palestinians. Whenever, I do receive such messages from S, I would respond with frantic “Amin, Amin”…May Allah grant all the good wishes he has sent…

S has finally wrapped up his thesis correction a few days ago. It was refreshing to note that the internal and external examiner’s comments were very good – “Reading the thesis was a pleasure, well written, no grammar mistakes, clearly explained.” Most Middle Eastern students’ theses are a headache. Mainly because of their poor background in English and another fact – most are quite stubborn to accept advice and criticisms. Especially when the supervisor is a woman lecturer. But not S, who was a fast learner and very receptive to comments.

When S was asked by the Viva Chairman right after his viva, “What will you be doing after this? Getting a job here in Malaysia?”

S answered with a beaming smile, “I will be going back. My country needs me.”

Straight answer and very succinct. He knows and is aware. His sense of purpose of coming here. And never forgetting his roots.

And so, it is with great pleasure and I share the happiness of his success. However, having to come to terms with the fact that I have to let S and his family go, a little sadness creeps in my heart. Will our family get to see each other again?

One thing is for sure….I will miss the company of this family, S’s humble inquiries, questions and his thirst for knowledge, R’s wonderful cooking and…ARS’s beautiful, sparkling eyes and glowing smile…

May Allah bless the whole family and protect them when they get back home to Palestine and its people too. Grant them their long awaited freedom..Amin Ya Rabbul Alamin…

For the sake of brotherhood in faith...

“How are you, mum?” said a very familiar voice at the other end.

“Fine! How ARE you?” said I, sensing something amiss in the tone of my son’s voice.

“Just feeling like wanting to share something,” he said.

“Aha..”

“Yesterday, I was at the masjid for maghrib prayers. Was doing my solat when suddenly a little boy stepped on my glasses which I put neatly positioned just beneath my face during prostrating. He was running here and there just before it happened,” said he with a sigh.

Silence.

“I am listening,” said I, encouraging him to go on.

“After the jamaah prayers, I turned to see a man, maybe from one of the countries in Africa. He apologized and said that he will pay for the damage. I just nodded my head. Then, he asked me how much I paid for my glasses. I said more than a thousand ringgit.”

“What happened then? You don’t sound too happy.”

“Yeah! Because right after hearing my words, the man suddenly became offensive and lectured to me about Qada’ and Qadar.”

“Hmm..” I knew that something was not quite right, as I know my son’s attitudes and temperaments very well. Never, the one who likes to be lectured at and easily provoked.

“I lashed out. Telling him not to insult my intelligence. I know what Qada’ and Qadar is. As soon as I turned my heels towards the door of the masjid, I noticed all eyes in the masjid were on both of us. People from all over the world.”

The place where my son resides (where my other half and I hop over to spend weekend escapades or to attend to some other activities at the capital), is full of expatriates from the Middle East and Korea. So, the masjid would be full of Muslims from many nations across the globe.

I was quiet, allowing time and some space so my son could gather his words.

“Mum, I could not sleep throughout the night. I lay in bed thinking. We were all one, standing and then stooping in our prayers, devoted to God, the only One. Then, right after giving salams, I was there exchanging harsh words with another, my own brother in faith.”

Still, I did not say anything, wanting to let him pour his words.

“This morning, I had my glasses repaired. It cost me RM300. Then, just now, after the noon congregation prayers, the same man came over to me and apologized again, asking me how much I spent to fix my specs. I told him. Then he reached out to his wallet and handed me the amount. But I said to him, “Please take back your RM 100,” When he asked me why, I answered, “Because I lost my temper over such a small thing.”

My lips involuntarily curved into a slight smile.

“Then, we hugged one another, patted each other’s shoulders while the others in the masjid smiled a wide smile,” continued my son.

“Good to hear that,” I said in a low voice.

“Yes! And I am so overcomed with relief,” said he.

I did not say anything anymore. We talked about other things for a little while longer.

Deep inside me I was so grateful to Allah and was absolutely glad that my son had learnt an important lesson. The value of brotherhood and love amongst mankind (especially Muslims) far surpasses the petty things that we say we own in this short life.

Remembering Teachers....

“Can you spare some time? Present a talk in a programme for teachers that we will be organizing in a few month’s time?” said Hajjah Norhayati Sidek on the other line.

“Programme for teachers? Are you sure that the audience will be comfortable with me? Because I am not really qualified. They are more experienced teaching in schools, for which I am at a disadvantage,” said I.

“Well! Just share whatever you have,” said the dear, old friend of mine.

I remembered the following verse from the Quran:

“Help one another in righteousness and piety - and do not help one another in sin and injustice..” (Al Maidah: Verse 2)

I knew I had to oblige to my friend’s request.

For weeks on end, I stole some time here and there, preparing for my talk i.e. a Powerpoint presentation entitled “Utilizing the Utmost from Teachers Based on Human Capital Values”. A mouthful title. I had to take a breather in between writing the full title.

For the particular purpose too, I had to study some materials. Amongst them, “The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People” and “The 8th Habit: From Effectiveness to Greatness”, both books by Stephen Covey. Also, “The Empty Raincoat: Making Sense of the Future” by Charles Handy and another “Talent is Never Enough: Discover the Choices That Will Take You Beyond Your Talent” by John C. Maxwell.

Other references were also garnered to make the presentation due on the 24th May, to be as interesting as possible. I wanted to stress more on the practical aspects of harnessing the potent talents each and everyone of us possess. How to manage those talents and channel them towards doing good for the society at large and to be able to maintain a strong conviction and motivation throughout the journey of our life. There are some practical aspects that we may be able to follow and they were effective for me. So, I hoped to share with the audience based upon my own experiences.

The programme called Bicara Perdana at national level organized by Majlis Guru Islah (MGI or Islah Teachers Council if translated into English) was convened at the Hill City Hotel, Ipoh, Perak. And it was rightfully so that the Honorary Secretary of JIM, Haji Nahar Md. Nor officiated the function. MGI was his brainchild years ago.

Tears welled up my eyes as I listened to the poem ‘Kau Adi Guru’ penned and recited by Ibni Khalid Jurait, the representative of Selangor. I was sure that the hearts of many others were also moved, judging from the muffled sounds and tissue grabbings amongst those present. (The poem was written in the Malay Language, the meanings of which might not be as effective if translated in English, if not, I would have loved to share it here…)

I was also happy for Mrs. Siti Aishah Mahamad’s, receiving the Teachers Award 2009 (9 candidates from various states were nominated). Siti Aishah is an Excellent Headmistress, a post she held in three schools while at the same time, never foresaking her duties as an activist under JIM and holds the post of Head of Women’s Wing of Pahang.

Sadness prevailed amid video clips, when the award for “You Will Forever Be Remembered” was given to the late Dr. Ahmad Basri bin Md. Yussoff for his tireless efforts and deeds in guiding, teaching and enjoining good deeds through JIM. He, who was fondly known as Cikgu Basri was represented by 3 of his children, Naufal, Ariej and Daniel, who came in place of their mum, Puan Noraini.

My presentation was delivered in 45 minutes in all while another, also in the same time frame was given by Mr. Haji Mat Noh Supaat, District Education Officer who was also an experienced Headmaster for Cluster Schools. His talk was entitled, “Effective Leadership in the Teaching Profession”.

I was touched that my presentation was well received, the positive responses (as was told by the secretariat of the programmes), from the evaluation sheets filled in by the audience. Alhamdulillah, All praises be to Allah. By His Grace, may all our good deeds be rewarded in the hereafter...Amin.

Kudos to my old friend, Cik Hajjah Norhayati as the Director of the programme and her team members who had put in tremendous efforts in the preparations months before and in making sure the event for the day, a smooth sailing one...

With Writer Friends…Kuala Lumpur International Book Fair 2009

“I am Hamdy!” said someone as soon as I arrived at the stall.

“So, you are Hamdy! We have been emailing and motivating each other through mailing lists and text messages,” said I, looking at Pak Utih, another writer friend and a qualified trainer, sitting in front of a pile of his book, "Suami Memimpin, Isteri Mengurus" (The Husband Leads, the Wife Manages). He was seated at the other end of the table.

“Yes! He may sound very gruff and brutal in his emails but actually he has a very kind heart!” said Pak Utih, casting a broad smile. Hamdy roared with laughter.

We were at the JIMedia stall, or to be more exact, Readnetworks. A publishing company owned by Bro. Wan Mohd. Zukri or better known as Abu Syamil, who is also in charge of publishing quality reading materials for JIMedia.

“Where is Roha?” I asked.

Roha is our Sis who was given the responsibility to compile our latest book project – the third one, entitled, “Ibu Madrasah Pertamaku” (Mother – My First Lesson Provider) under Women’s Wing for JIM. I have contributed one chapter in this third endeavour. The first project which was entitled, “Bagaimana Akhirnya Saya Bertudung” (How I Finally Wore the Hijab), 2 chapters of my writings were included there and while I have given one chapter for the second effort, “Mengapa Saya Bekerja” (Why I Work), both of which were compiled by Madam Ir. Hajjah Endok Sempo M. Tahir.

“I think, she cannot make it today,” said Hamdy or his real name is Haron Mohd.Yusof, writer of Rancang Hidup Rancang Wang (Plan your Life and Your Money) and many more.

Just then, there was the sound of greetings from another writer friend of ours, Dr. Harlina Haliza Siraj, leader of Women’s Wing, JIM Central Committee, whose face has graced Malaysian TV and newspapers.

We had our pictures taken with our editor, Mr. Wan Muhammad Wan Ibrahim, a youthful father of three, who works full time with JIM and another with Dr. Har.

“I want to stay low in profile,” said Hamdy with a chuckle, disappearing behind a pillar.

I shook my head.

And there we were that Saturday, the 25th. of April 2009. Sitting and promoting each and every one of our books at the stall. Our books i.e. mine "Jadi, Anda Mahu Menulis"(So, You Want to Write?), Dr. Har "Citra Wanita Kontemporari"(Aspirations of Contemporary Women), Pak Utih "Suami Memimpin Isteri Mengurus"(Husband Leads Wife Manages), Hamdy "Rancang Hidup Rancang Wang Remaja"(Plan Your Life, Plan Your Money for Young Adults) was published just the night before. Very fresh from the oven! We sat, signing our books with readers and getting know them for about a few hours.

It certainly was fun!

The Writing Group....

Today marks my first attempt to form a writing group. As today is a public holiday, in conjunction with the auspicious occasion of our beloved Prophet Muhammad’s (peace be upon him) birthday, what a day to start this group too!

As was planned a week ago, Kr and Nm came over at mid afternoon. I did not have the time to prepare anything. But then, plain Earl Grey Tea and Hershey’s Kisses will do!

We sat in the elevated area of my weekend home in Ipoh, the dining section, overlooking the lush greenery. This used to be my favourite spot some time ago, i.e. before we had to move further up north to Parit Buntar, where my working home is.

It was still drizzling outside and the air was cool and beautiful when I began to teach the two of them the basics of writing. Theirs will be a short write-up each as contributions to our up and coming project entitled Semurni Kasih Ayah (Father's Love - Endless and Tender), a project of JIM Perak Branch.

Points were thrashed out and put down onto paper. The framework was laid down. Next, would be the draft, followed by editing and subsequently, the refinement process.

The first few minutes was quite baffling. But as the minutes ticked by, my two mentees were writing away. Their fingers hooked on a pen, moving deftly across the white sheets, with every flow of events awakening in their minds. The warm tea and delicious chocolate kisses may have something to do with it? Maybe!

If only I could gather more aspiring writers to join in! Then the project would be a lot more faster than now. As it is, very slow progress. But still, this is better than nothing. And I am certainly not complaining.

Writing groups are good in the sense that you may learn from each other. To get the ideas going strong. Also to motivate and nudge each other along as the process of writing is very lonesome and you may become weary along the road not often taken.

You can form your own writing group too! Wherever you may be. Or maybe you would care to join me? Next time, perhaps!

Amidst the dunes….

“So! You’ll be doing the sand dune bashing?” said the young man sitting beside the Pakistani driver behind the wheel.

The four wheel drive we were in, was purring momentarily at the campsite, the wheels of which were let loose of the air several kilometers at the entrance to the desert. The coldness (18 degrees Celsius) was pinching my skin.

“The what bashing?” I asked, taken by surprised.

“You know! Riding in this, across the dunes,” said he, glancing to my other half, sitting directly behind him.

“Whatever!” I said, still quite confused and throwing a frown to my hubbie too, who was busy setting his camcorder.

“My wife and the two boys are not! That’s why they’re getting off here. But I think you should give it a try,” he continued.

“Okay!” said I, tilting my head, looking out of the window. Yonder, small shrubs thrived on the undulating sands, the colours of which reminded me of demerara sugar.

The driver of the four wheel was blowing his hands, smiling gleefully.

And then…it all started. The 4 x 4 vehicle, cranked its way through the wobbly dunes. My tummy felt a bit quizzy as the machine headed towards the main road. A few kilometers, then it careened to a stop, beside a fenced up area, overlooking the desert.

From afar, we could see the horizon and the beautiful, rolling sand dunes…

“There are plastic bags just at your sides. Seat belts on? All set and ready? Here we go!” said the driver.

Just then, the engines roared. And, immediately, I remembered! The look! The cheeky grin and the bright shine in the eyes of our host (Lil, my junior at TKC– sweet wifey of PP, my hubby’s schoolmate, we spent some time last week at their superbly serene abode, at their invitation) when she sent us off, outside her abode.

“Enjoy yourself!” said Lil, her eyes twinkling a naughty smile.

When I lifted myself into the Toyoto Landcruiser that came to pick us up, little did I know then, what was in store for us!

The desert safari… The journey had only just begun…

We were all smiles and giggles at the start. After a few minutes, everyone was absolutely quiet. My eyes were rolling. My stomach in tune with the twists and turns. My head getting giddier than ever as my fingers held on tight to the seat belt. The tough 4x4 continued to spur on, up the slopes and then speeding down, careering here and there, sometimes slipping sideways, bringing bursts of sands, splashing onto the glass windows. My heart was beating as fast as the wheels of the ‘beast’ we were in.

“Are you all right? Your fingers are so cold!” said my beloved, his fingers clasping mine.

I nodded, my eyes narrowing. The ride seemed like forever. My heart was screaming, “Oh! When will all this end?”

At the final moments of the half hour ride, I was already burping and trying hard to hold down whatever that was slowly creeping up my throat. My hands were already clutching the little piece of blue plastic bag, at the seat pocket just in front of me.

Just then, “Right! We stop here for a while. Watch the sunset. And you may take some pictures,” said the driver.

I heaved a sigh of relief. But my head was really heavy and I was trying to hold myself steady when we got down.

“Boy! That was some ride! I was beginning to feel dreadful!” said the other passenger.

“So do I!” said I, trying to keep my balance on the soft, fine sand.

The sun was setting. The most magnificent orange…Glory be to God! We had our pictures taken, my beloved and I. With the help of the other passenger. How lovely!

Then, we proceeded back to the camp. I was wincing again when the ride started to get rough…At last! We reached the camp. Certainly felt better after sipping some herbal tea.

My husband came running, saying, “Here! Rub this! On your forehead and nose.”

“Where did you get this?” I asked, puzzled, looking at the small familiar bottle of 'minyak cap kapak' (ointment made from eucalyptus oil).

“At the stall over there. 5 dirhams!” he smiled. I smiled in return.

Dinner was fabulous, dimly lit lights, under a clear, starry sky …How romantic! A moment to be cherished…..

Thank you PP and Lil! Thank you for having us there. Your hospitality and kindness will always remain in our hearts….May Allah always bless you and the entire family…Amin.

A friend in need...

My dear friends and fellow readers...

I would like to extend here, Dr. Ez's blog, giving the day to day account of his beloved wife's condition. (Please click here...)

I am sure that Dr. Ez will appreciate your good wishes and your prayers...

Thank you very much...

Prayers...

Was so tied down with work. It is the end of semester and examinations are on. Piles of manuscripts to be marked, tests, quizzes, assignments to be corrected, then scanned for OBE. Also a couple of theses (Masters and Ph.D.) which I need to examine.

My phone quivered from beneath the loads of papers. Message in:

“Just want to inform you. Dr. Ez’s wife is critically ill,” message from Dr. Mz, a very dedicated doctor and specialist radiologist who is now stationed at Sg. Petani Hospital.

My thoughts immediately flew back to the trying times, 3 years ago, while I was struggling at the Radiology Dept, HUSM, Kubang Kerian. Dr. Ez, my field supervisor during my Ph.D, who was and still is the Head of Radiology Department. Without his intervention and relentless efforts in modifying the normal procedures for the management of patients, it would have been very difficult for me, collating the data capture. It was truly through his kindness that made all that seemed impossible at first, became a reality in the end. Dr. Mz was also a Masters Student of Dr. Ez.

It was during those stressful times that Dr. Ez broke the news to us i.e. my research officer and Masters student and I. His wife (also a medical doctor by profession at the USM Medical Campus) was diagnosed with leukemia, stage 4. It was so sudden. He sounded devastated and that was understandable. For his wife had just delivered another baby a few months before that. His wife could not understand why she was drained all out each time she returned home from work. And being a caring husband, Dr. Ez attributed her lethargy due to stress at work, then caring for the new baby and the other little children of theirs. Little did both of them expected that a predicament was at work.

My heart goes out to Dr.Ez, whom I am deeply indebted, whose selfless efforts made it possible for me to complete my studies. Please do join me, to pray for him and his family. Oh Allah, please give Dr. Ez, his wife and family the strength to face this calamity. May she be cured…for truly You are the Greatest Curer of all diseases, Most Beneficient, Most Merciful…Amin, Ya Rabbul Alamin.

Days with my mentor...amongst other things..

I was stirred by the movement of my mobile phone, vibrating away on the surface of my office table. It was an incoming message from someone stored as PAV.

“Received your message. Just came back from Australia. Please come, both of you. Have lunch here at the campus.”

“Yes Prof. Will do! And will call you when we arrive,” I replied.

I told my friend L of this good news.

“We will be at Ipoh first, right?” said L, grinning.

”Yes! We will visit our student who is undergoing his industrial training at the JKR Electric first. Then we will be off to visit the other student after our lunch with Prof,” said I.

A few days after that, we were on our way to Tronoh, with me behind the wheel. We turned into the UTP campus grounds off the main road to Lumut. Further in, we could catch a glimpse of the greenery at the students’ square, a place where plants could barely survive, about twenty years ago.

From afar, we could see hands waving to us, trying to show us a suitable place to park the car. Hands that belong to an old, familiar face.

Just as we stepped out of the car, an ever friendly voice rang in the air, “Hello! How are you both?”

“Happy!” said I.

“And fine!” said L.

“Come! Come right this way. To my office!” said our mentor, showing us the way.

We talked. Catching up, exchanging news, about family and everything else. He, asking about our respective children, now all grown up…how time flew. Then we had to leave after a scrumptious lunch at the café. And the next moment, we were on our way to visit our other student, in our line of duty. But not after having some pictures taken with our old professor.

Professor PAV reported for duty with USM Perak Branch at the temporary campus in Ipoh around 1988. L was fresh out from a university further down south while I had moved from the main campus in Penang, two years prior to that. Since then, PAV had taught us a lot of things. I, especially learnt a lot from him. Many valuable things. L and I helped him in tutorials, in the subjects that he taught. Also, during the lab sessions.

When we moved to the permanent site at Seri Iskandar, PAV encouraged us both to pursue our postgraduate studies. He became my supervisor during my pursuit of M.Sc through research mode. L opted to be under somebody else in an area of her own interest.

Under his tutelage, I learnt how to apply for research grants… short term and long term grants. Also, on how to manage the approved research grants that we successfully applied for. Usually, he was the project leader, while I was a co-researcher.

“Grants are vital to fuel our innovative venture and for the exploration of knowledge. From there, we can generate new knowledge. The money may be used for a multitude of purposes. One of it is, to be able to sponsor new postgraduate students in our field of research. In doing so, we may produce more knowledgeable people,” I remembered him telling me. The message still lingers in my mind to this day.

Those years under his guidance were really precious to me. My learning curve was at its highest. He dragged me into helping him with organizing an international conference, something which at first I was reluctant to do, because I thought I was incapable of doing. The international conference ROVPIA (Robotics, Vision, Parallel Processing and Automation) first came into being in 1994. Then, he pushed me into becoming the chairman of the publications committee, the editor-in-chief responsible for the proceedings, his right hand ‘man’ in organizing ROVPIA in the years to come (1996, 1999). L too was involved in another subcommittee. When we moved to the new campus at Nibong Tebal (Prof. PAV joined UTP then), the conference name was changed to ROVISP (Robotics, Vision and Signal Processing) beginning from the year 2003. And I shared the little knowledge and skills that I gathered during my past organizing tasks to new and fresh academic faces at the new place. Since then, for ROVISP 2005 and 2007, the heavy baton of organizing the international conference has been passed to other new breeds.

One great thing that I learnt to copy from PAV was his resilience. Giving up was definitely not in his dictionary. I have always detested campus politics. But I could see that these had not distracted nor affected him, much less, to deter him from his focus and pursuits.

“Do not worry yourself with whatever things that other people say. Just continue to do you own work. And do it with diligence and utmost sincerity,” these words of his, still ringing in my ears even after 16 years. Something that I have always held on to.

Wherever he went, PAV would never fail to bring fame to the place he was representing. During his days with USM, he has garnered many research awards. Likewise, when he joined UTP. He was also my supervisor during my early years, while embarking on my Ph.D before his term with USM came to an end. I have been trying to put down on paper all the little experiences and wisdom that I had gathered under his guidance; in a book to be published under the genre of ‘professional novel’. A book laden and laced with facts, but presented in a ‘novel like’ approach.

I hope that this up and coming book of mine would serve as a guide for those in pursuit of their postgraduate studies. Our country aspires that 60% of its academics would be Ph.D holders as opposed to only 30% at the present moment in time. Therefore, this book is written with the intention of making a small contribution towards that aspiration…to shed some light, to spur the spirits of others…in his or her journey of a lifetime…a piece of writing that would be called “Mendaki Liku, Meraih Mercu”…( which may be translated as ‘With Grit, Let Us Conquer the Summit’, more or less.)

A precious gift from a special friend....a poem

A few weeks ago, I received this little poem from someone. A very old friend of mine. A very special friend.

We met while attending an orientation programme for students embarking overseas for further studies in 1976, at Alamshah school (back then, it was still in Cheras). We have been keeping in touch ever since.

She did her A-Levels at Southampton while I did mine at Chesterfield, Derbyshire. Then, we were together at Sheffield from 1978 until 1981. Both of us were married in 1979 just after finishing our first years at undergraduate level. Our husbands were mates at the Engineering Department, Mappin Street, University of Sheffield. Back then, we were active members of the Sheffield Islamic Students’ Society.

Our husbands had lent their hands in acquiring the building which is now the Islamic Centre at number 10, Severn Road. The centre is still in operation when I visited it around February 2007 last year....traveling on my own and feeling nostalgic (the pictures here were taken then..). And both of us had our firstborns in 1980, mine in August, while she had hers in October. Of course, we had our hands full...juggling the many different responsibilities...But Oh! I do cherish those moments....And imagine how I felt when I received this little piece from her, just recently....Tears welled up in my eyes....

And so, I would like to share it with you here...(with my old friend’s permission)


For my precious friend…

Remember the times..
When we were in our teens,
Always sharing, always caring..
Stories and gossips
Tales and tips..
Sad ones, happy pieces…
From religious updates and narratives
Right down to delicious recipes…..
Then…. suddenly we became mothers,
Our eyes feasting on Mothercare catalogues…
Hands full, struggling…
Studies, mental blocks… but then still coping..

Sleepness nights..
And the delight!
Attending to the ceaseless crying
And their antiques..
Who else but our babies?
For, we were first time mothers..
Both far from home..
No experience, only instincts…
But we managed…
Exchanging words so comforting..
Through thick and thin..

Nearly thirty years have gone…
Both you and I have ripened....
First, mother-in-law ..then next becoming a grandmother..
Still, holding tightly on to each other..
Sharing our joys and pleasures..
Only… you have ventured to newer pastures..

Even then…you are still sharing
Anything that is new…and tips on writing..
Here and there
And everywhere…
In your words and encouragement..
Already five books in circulation..
How I admire your ways..
Living to share what there is in taking..

Am motivated to try too…
But haven’t the strength to carry through
Only can afford to utter a prayer…
May you be in good health and Allah’s care..
Tirelessly sharing..
Forever caring…

Fond thoughts from your old friend,

*aw*
14 Rabi’ul Akhir 1429

To *aw*:-

Dearest *aw*,

If you are reading this, please be elated. Because you do have talents too..Only that you do not know...Please nurture it...

I do love you very much! ...for Allah....(But I am not so good in poetry...)

From your 'ole friend too.....
~Umi~

The value of friendship (2)...

(..continuation)

It was a bright and sunny afternoon, after weeks of wet weather and cold winds, seemingly as if to share my joyous mood.

At the touch of my finger on the bell at the doorstep of **, *****y Avenue, the door opened and a lady, slightly over middle aged, came out to greet me. She gave me a hug, kissed me on one cheek, beckoning me to come in.

“You must be Umi!” she said.

“Yes! And you must be Mrs. G. T’s mum? Nice to meet you!”

“I certainly am! And nice to meet you too!”

Someone came down the stairs and then, there she stood, behind her mum.

“Hi!!!” said she and gave me a great big hug and a kiss on my cheek.

“Hello T! You’ve hardly changed!” I said.

“And you too!”

“I have grown sideways and all around!” I said.

“Oh! We all have grown sideways and all around, haven’t we? Come!” said Mrs. G, laughing and taking my jacket, she led me in saying, “Please, do come inside!”

I was led into the sitting room and saw an old man sitting on an armchair, staring at the TV.

“You must be Mr. G!” I greeted him.

“Hello!” he responded with a smile.

We talked for a while. My old friend showed me pictures of her siblings, two married brothers who are both younger than her, her wedding photos and those of her own family. She had driven all the way from Shrewsbury with her daughter, who was out with friends to watch the newest Harry Potter movie. Her husband, a self trained gardener, was bogged down with work back home.

I showed them the few photos of my family which I remembered to bring along, especially of my two year old grandaughter. Mr. G seemed certainly amused with one photo of her posing lying down; her back up, propping her face with her right hand on her chin with a great big smile, eyes sparkling.

“Now! That is quite a pose!” he quipped, imitating the pose.

Then Mrs. G called out from the kitchen, “T! Your tea is ready. You may have it with Umi in the garden. You might as well enjoy the sun while it is out!”

We sat in the small but colourful garden and talked and talked over a spread of typical English tea, biscuits and scones; about our lives since we left the university. T shared with me her family background. Her parents were of working, middle class family and how when she was offered to study at university, the whole family including uncles, aunts and cousins were over the moon. She was showered with presents as she was practically the only one so far in the family to have succeeded to be in a university. The closest her mum had to do with university was as a worker at the University of Manchester’s refectory ( which recently has become my favourite haunt and the place where I get to meet my son in between our busy schedule – me and my work at the university and hospital while my son - his lectures, lab and homework). T’s father was a car mechanic working for someone. Now, he is suffering from Alzheimer’s disease.

“My father just sits and stares at the TV. He probably wouldn’t remember you anymore when we step into the sitting room again,” T laughed.

During the early years of her marriage, things were difficult as they had to survive on her salary as a new teacher. Her husband did not make much as a gardener. Even if he had some big projects, the people he worked with did not have the decency to pay him upon the project completion. However, she is always counting her blessings as she has friends who may be rich but whose marriages disintegrate or are afflicted with health problems. As for her, she has a loving husband, a beautiful daughter and understanding parents; a point to which I myself agree, absolutely. Now, things are much better as she is the assistant head of the school; her husband, an established gardener.

Her parents hardly have visitors. Only very close relatives and even then, very rarely seen. Her mum was actually very worried that I might find their house to be a bit small and not up to the usual English standard. Of course, I brushed these aside.

My friend rummaged through a boxful of old things, which she salvaged from the attic or the loft of her house. Amongst them, my old letters to her, the first few years after we graduated. Interestingly, she showed me a booklet inscribed with the graduation list of that summer of 1981, the University of Sheffield. I did not have a copy of it as I went home early before the graduation with the hope of starting to work as soon as possible. The scroll was sent to me through the post by the university. In the booklet, my name was about four places above hers under the Degrees with Honours list. How sweet! My eyes started to swell....

Before I left, I was presented with a little gift; a small ceramic jar with a wooden top, illustrated with an old English painting on one side. Surprisingly, Mr. G got on his feet, smiling, to see me off. Considering my friend’s forewarning that her father might not remember me! He even obliged to have his picture taken and then, to my amazement offered to take a picture of us both in front of the house, using my camera. And what a fine picture it turned out to be!

We waved goodbye, after a big hug and two kisses on each cheek from Mrs. G; T courteously driving me back to my dreary abode. We hugged and promised to keep in touch.

Amidst the not so blue and clear sky for Muslims in this western part of the world, I am glad that I have done my bit to dispel the qualms and misconceptions that plague the minds of ordinary British citizens. It may be very small but I hope that this tiny step is significant enough. The onslaught of attacks and misjudgements against Muslims especially in the mainstream media here can be frustrating. As a matter of fact, depressing should be the exact word.

I am so happy that I have made this family happy on that fateful day. I hoped that I have given a true picture of a Muslim to this family. And hope too that they may spread the word around. A picture of a Muslim who does no harm, who cherish and treasure the value of friendship. I thank you God, Most Benevolent, Most Gracious for allowing me to have this opportunity of a lifetime to rekindle this bond. For that is what I belief we Muslims must be doing…building bridges, not walls.

The value of friendship…

This was written while I was on sabatical leave sometime last year (2007) at Manchester...)

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Little did I expect that the midsummer week was going to be an adventurous one. A small booklet, 'The A-Z Around Manchester' caught my eyes. It belonged to one of the girls who had decided to spend her summer days here and whose abode I frequented whenever I felt like winding down. There, I sought solace...to talk, to share things, to cook, to laugh, to discuss, to do things that mothers usually do with their daughters. One of the girl's father happened to be my classmate during our A-Level years 30 years ago. Imagine how old I must have felt!

While browzing through the pages of the booklet, an idea suddenly hit me. Try to find number **, ******y Avenue, Manchester M**. An old address that remained stuck in my mind for years....

I was on the bus the next day, the number ** heading towards a certain place, then hopped off at ****nely Centre. I then asked a young lad who was cycling by, to ascertain I was in the right place. I was back on my feet, more than 2 kilometres further down the road.

Upon reaching the destination, my eyes wandered eagerly. It seemed like nobody was in the house. I saw a lady who was mowing her lawn right across the road and decided to approach her.

"Excuse me...are the Gs still staying at that house over there...the number **?"

"Yes! They certainly are! But I think they have gone out!" the lady said, switching off her machine.

"Is TG, still staying here? She was my old friend during our university days.."

"Her name is Mrs. T J now. Yes! She’s a teacher, married and staying somewhere in the south..." smilingly, she said.

"Thank you very much! You have been very kind!" I said.

"Bye love!" said the kind lady, who continued mowing her green turf.

I pushed in through the mail box of the house, a small silk batik print of colourful tropical fish (which I got from Kelantan) as a token of friendship. Also a tiny note, stating who I was, scribbling my handphone number and email too!

I retraced my steps back through the exquisite English neighbourhood, wondering whether I could get to see my old classmate TG again. That is her name or more accurately, was her name during our undergraduate years back in Sheffield.

She helped me a lot. I was the only Malay girl in the class then. Knitting my husband a hat that could cover his head, nose and ears, just leaving his eyes...that was when I told her that my husband could not stand the cold, which would trigger frequent and severe migraine attacks. She knitted our baby daughter, our firstborn, a sweet multi-hued cardigan too. It was so lovely!

When I had to miss lectures to take care of my baby on her numerous occasions of hospitalizations at the Children's Hospital, lecture notes from this friend of mine was always on hand. I remember the quiet discussions that we had together, at her students' hostel, while sitting for our final examinations. I would not have been what I am today if not for her, for which I am so grateful. She epitomized the saying, "A friend in need is a friend indeed!'

That same week, I got a reply. T has married Mark (not his real name), her boyfriend whom I remember from our student days, who proposed to her on a Transatlantic flight on a trip to the US. How romantic! T's mum called to say that an old friend has got in touch. She then emailed me saying she will be so happy to see me! She is now a teacher at Shrewsbury in the county of Shropshire, with a 17 year old daughter and will be back home to her mum's for the school holidays. T has also invited me to see her there, to have tea, catching up with events over the years, also to Shrewsbury, a beautiful medieval city.

Imagine how excited I was, at finally meeting my long lost friend, after a lapse of 26 years? I sat counting the minutes as each day passes by...

(to be continued…)

That lonely country road....

“How are you, auntie?”

“I am well! And you, my girls?”

“We are fine, auntie. Please come right in!”

Hands were outstretched, one after another, greeting me. My cheeks touched theirs, young cheeks belonging to the bright faces in turn.

I placed my feet on the floor of the sparsely furnished living room, then swept them across the grass mat covering a section of the floor. I lowered myself, fronting one of the tiny tables laid down in a circle, putting my booklet on the surface of one.

“Right! My children! I must apologize for not coming here for the past three weeks. Was tied up with office work. But praises be to God, for today, I am able to be here, spending time with you and sharing what little bit that I have,” said I.

Heads nodded.

“Who can tell us where we stopped, the last time I was here?"

“Amongst the things that contribute towards character building. Which is, influence from friends and peers!” came a spontaneous reply, lifting her face from the little notebook wide open in front of her, her fingers twisting a blue ball-point pen.

“Good! But before that, what are the things that we must do from within ourselves to improve our own beings?” I asked.

“We need to seek for knowledge. Also to always be with knowledgeable people so that we may know what is right and wrong in developing our personality!” said another.

“What clever girls I have! And very hard working too! You have certainly done your homework in reading up what we have discussed before!” I said, my face beaming with a smile. Smiles greeted me back.

“Right girls! Today, we will be looking at how our personality may be shaped by our parents. So that, we may learn to appreciate just how much sacrifice and how big the hope that our parents have in us, the things that parents have to go through to bring us all up as good human beings!”

And so I began the subject of the study for the evening, sharing with them, the roles that parents may play in the process of nurturing young souls. Hands were vigorously trying to capture all my words. Hands belonging to sweet young faces, ardently and seriously paying attention as well as making notes here and there.

Every fortnight, I would steal some time off to prepare mediocre materials to be shared with these girls, occupants sorjourned in a shelter called the Rumah Perlindungan Raudhatus Sakinah (RS); a place which is located deep in one of the villages around Seberang Perai Selatan, on the mainland province in the state of Penang.

I remembered vividly, the first time I went. Nearly got myself lost on the way back because I was still not too familiar with the nooks and corners to and from there. Driving alone on the deserted road, I noticed there was hardly anyone or other cars, neither incoming nor from behind. The evening was slowly turning to dusk and the shadows indicated the pitter-patter of rain was about to fall anytime then. I must have missed a junction for as I drove on, the roads started to get smaller and smaller with oil palm trees that did not look quite familiar while I was on my way to RS earlier in the day. In front of me was just immense forest. My heart started to pound a bit louder and my instinct told me to get back the other way. Sure enough! A few kilometers and I could recognize the junction I missed!

I could not imagine how my good friend NM (also an RS volunteer like I am) could have ventured into this neighbourhood in the middle of the night upon an emergency phone call.

“One of the girls was about to give birth and somebody had to get her to the nearest hospital!” NM said.

What courage she must have had! To drive alone in the blackness (no street lights) as her husband works way down in Melaka and was only home on weekends. Even as I drove in the twilight, the surroundings gave me the creeps. I was not really scared of ghostly beings, just the thought of having your path being waylaid by a person or a gang of people with bad intentions. Masha Allah, I do salute her!

A Drop of Pearl….has returned to its rightful place

..to be with our Creator

My heart missed a beat while reading an entry by Puan Ainon Mohd. while browsing through Prof. Mohd. Kamil Ibrahim’s http://muhdkamil.net/mystory/?m=200711). “Prof! I am deeply saddened..” These words were left there by this great hearted lady whom we have grown to affectionately address as SifuPTS.

In an instant, my fingers deftly moved the mouse to http://www.universitipts.com/

I was dumbfounded the moment my eyes glanced through the entry dated February 3rd. 2008.

http://universitipts.com/index.php/site/comments/al_fatihah_buat_buah_hati_sifu/

From HIM we came and unto HIM do we return…

True! This gentle soul has gone. This kind man by the name of Ahmad Zafran Abdul Mutalib or more profoundly known as Panaharjuna has been called home while he lay sleeping. He had been suffering from heart ailment, commuting alone, back and forth between Kuala Lumpur and his hometown in Negeri Sembilan for treatment and hoping for a new heart in the waiting list. He was only 35 years old.

A gleaming drop of pearl has vanished from this earth. However, he will most certainly be remembered through his numerous books, a legacy he has left behind. PTS community will surely miss him…and I for one, being involved in writing only very recently.

The last entry in his blog

http://panaharjuna.blogspot.com/ was dated January 2d. 2008. The many times, I arrived at his blog for the past few weeks, I would start to ask myself, “It has been quite some time…no more new entries…Well! Perhaps, he is busy…”


I met this young writer a few times while attending the workshops organized by Puan Ainon at Taman Pertama and we exchanged a few words. Coincidentally, the illustrator and visual illustrator for the late writer’s books “Sahabat Kole Kacang” and “Sahabat Kole Kacang – Jiwa Pendekar” i.e. Mohd. Faizal Nordin (known as ICesoul) was a student of mine at the engineering campus of Universiti Sains Malaysia a few years ago.

Our friend has gone. Our days too are numbered. The fire on our candle of life that is still burning will one day too, quiver away. Only Allah knows for certain when the hour will be. In the meantime, sow our seeds, nurture good deeds, while the fire is still lit and the clock is still ticking…

“Oh Allah! Accept our friend’s good deeds, forgive his wrongdoings and place him amongst the people whom you love, those who are righteous and enjoin good deeds…Amin, Ya Rabbul Alamin…”

Al Fatihah…