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…

Ngah & Kayah's Drinking Well...

All praises be to Allah....

Am so grateful that my dream and intention has been fruitful…

Last Ramadhan , I received an invitation from an activist, who also happens to be my husband’s junior during their school days (Sekolah Tuanku Abdul Rahman (STAR) old boy, Ipoh, Perak). This gentlemen has forwarded a chance to contribute towards a very noble effort.

In his flyer, it was stated:

Hadhrat Sa'd
(Radhiallaahu Anhu) said, 'Umm Sa'd (mother of Sa'd) passed away. What should I do?'

Rasulullah (Sallallaahu Alayhi Wasallam) said, 'Dig a well (in order to provide water).'

Hadhrat Sa'd dug a well and said, 'This (the water of the well) is for the reward of Umm Sa'd.' (Mishkaat - Chapter of Sadaqah).. (Hadith Riwayat Tirmidzi)

And something suddenly fluttered in my heart…Instantly, I remembered both my parents. They – who had toiled and faced such hardship bringing up my siblings and I. We would not have been like we are today if not for their hard work and sacrifices (my father passed away in 1997 and my mum in 2003).

And so, I immediately offered my hand in this gesture, so noble…

I wanted so much to ‘enshrine’ both my parent’s names in something that would give rewards for them in the hereafter until the end of time or as long as it is of service for the betterment of others…Alhamdulillah….Praises be to Allah for fulfilling my dreams and making this possible…(The proof is here).

For those of you out there who would also like to contribute towards this good deeds, please contact:

Dato' Haji Mustafa Kamal bin Zaini (hp: 019-2149345)
President, ACT Malaysia
www.actmalaysia.org.my ( Please click here)

May Allah accept all our righteousness…Amin, Ya Rabbul Alamin…

Eid…town…countryside…

“Abah! I think that would be your present for me, right? You must! Promise, ok?” said little Nuha Insyirah, her eyes wild with excitement.

My son-in-law’s eyebrows suddenly cocked up to one side.

By then, the little girl was running all around the fields and around the house belonging to an aunt (her grandfather – my husband’s side). Her t-shirt was all soaked and her forehead trickled with sweat. The little chicks she was chasing went helter skelter and were desperate on their feet, their mother clucking and following right behind them.

“Insyirah! Be careful, the mother hen could give you a nasty peck if she gets very annoyed!” said I, trying to hold still her little brother Ameer Ihsan who was flapping gleefully everytime the rooster cried, “Cock-a-doodle-doo!”

“But I want to hold the little chick in my hand!” cried Insyirah, “they are so cute,” and off she was again.

“How would you like yourself to be away from ibu and abah?” said her dad, trying to cajole his little girl.

“I would not like that!” she said, thoughtfully.

“Likewise, the little chicks. So leave them be, okay?” said her father. His little girl now tired, held on to his hands. But her eyes were still eagerly watching the yellow and fluffy chicks pecking and sifting the sands behind the bushes with their mum.

I remembered the first time we brought our son-in-law to this remote part of Kedah. A place called Kampung Bukit, near Napoh to be exact.

“What is that?” my son-in-law asked, quickly moving to the paddock nearest to the roadside. He could not help from running his fingers along the golden stalks.

“Why? That is the padi plant, of course! You mean you have not seen one?” I asked in return.

“No! I have not!” he said, a look of wonder in his eyes.

A teacher in a well established environment in the city once told me that she had asked the little children under her tutelage to draw a picture of a chicken. And what she got was a drawing of the fried chicken drumstick!

Our Prophet Muhammad (peace and blessings of Allah be upon him) was put in the care of Halimatus Saadiah at the countryside as was the norm and custom during those times. This was so that the child may learn the fine language of the outback and grow up in the unspoiled and clear environment, where the air is fresh and clean.

However, the same cannot be said about the present state of affairs in most of our own countryside. On my parent’s side, the kampung is infested with drug addicts and situation for old folks staying all alone is certainly not safe.

How about your experience in your own kampung? Do you encounter the same situation? It would be interesting to share…

Our Eid this year was really a meaningful one. Ameer Ihsan (I year 2 months) has just ‘found his feet’ and put them to real use. Our yearly photo session was hectic too! Which explains why most of the pictures had to be just candid…

To all readers, it is still not too late to wish you all “Eid Mubarak…let us seek forgiveness and start anew”.

May Allah bestow upon us the strength and commitment to fast the 6 days in the remaining days of Shawal and to be able to see Ramadhan and Shawal of next year, Insha Allah…Amin…

BeeeeZeeeee.....

It has been an eventful looooong month. More than a month actually…

The OCEANS 2010 conference in Sydney, ‘holiday’ in Shanghai. ‘Holiday’ means accompanying my husband who was on a business trip. New intake of students and ‘new’ subject to teach this session and in this new semester. Speaking of ‘new’ means handling a subject which I thought that I would not be teaching anymore. The last time I laid my eyes on the subject was about 6 years ago and so I was frantically trying to find my notes (maybe in my old laptop which has since been ‘condemned’).

As a consequence, I have been living on a day to day basis – lectures tomorrow and preparations? Today and till late at nights….

But in between, there was little Ameer Ihsan’s one year birthday. Yes! Already a year since the little darling – new addition to the family, was born. Our first little jewel i.e. his sister - Nuha Insyirah, is already 5 now...

Amongst other things which I was extremely happy about was the success of my good ole student in undergoing her Masters (M.Sc.) viva session just recently. Very tough, but she pulled through with gusto... Some corrections and she will be on her way..convocation in March next year, God Willing (Congrats L!)

I owe a lot to her – for without her assistance in collecting all the data, I would not have progressed in my own Doctorate studies years ago…As soon as I hired her, she had to spend at least 2 months each time at HUSM, Kubang Kerian, Kelantan. Never been there, problems in understanding the language – adjusting to the food – sometimes unpalatable to her taste but she put up with all these willingly, faithfully, diligently..…anyway, those were the days.

The recent convocation (early August 2010) brought me back to this little gift, presented by 4 students who have graduated on the occasion. I was their supervisor for their final year projects (here, we call it FYP). Reading their messages inscribed in the accompanying card, makes me happy inside. A sense of satisfaction and you feel good about a job done well with full sincerity….

Very beeeezeeee indeed...

Talking about being busy. I saw this line written on one of the walls of the hangar at Kepala Batas, Alor Setar, while on our way back to Jitra – my husband’s kampung, so many, many years ago..

“It is ok to be busy but please do not be busy bodies….”

My children were bent with laughter in the rear seat of the car when they read it. I totally agree with the phrase. Do you?

PS. To all friends and readers – May the blessings of Allah be with you throughout Ramadhan and forever…Amin…

Reader Review - Seungu Lavendar

Nothing pleases a writer more than having his or her book reviewed by readers. Whether the review is good or bad – it does not matter.

Yesterday, I had the pleasure of bumping into a piece of review at www.goodreads.com written by one named Aina Dayana Hilmi from Melaka. Not only has she bought my book and then read it. She also graciously went an extra mile to produce some feedback after feasting her eyes on it. (For Malay Language readers, the review can be found here).

The book Seungu Lavendar is a true story based on my childhood days, written straight from my heart; growing up in an ordinary family (father being a police constable), coping with everyday dealings in the era of 1960’s and the 1970’s. The little girl Ummu Hanis (or Hanis) is my character in the book, her experiences and her innocent outlook towards life written from the eyes of a child of her age. I wrote this book under the direct guidance and constant online correspondence with Madam Ainon Mohd (Sifu PTS) and it was completed in a span of 3 months. Writers for her publishing company at that time were encouraged to write their own life experiences or Jibunsyi (‘lifes of ordinary people’ in Japanese). In tandem with her request, all the names of characters needed to be changed (but in this book, I had to maintain my father’s name, for reasons stated in the book storyline).

I would like to reproduce some points from my book "Jadi, Anda Mahu Menulis?"

According to Mdm Ainon, "Actually every person's life is a unique tale that may be made into a book; it is a storyline."

The reason why jibunshis are written is because so that ordinary people may relate to the stories and then be inspired and motivated. It may be that reader is facing some form of situations, similar to the writer. Then, he or she will say, "I am facing the same difficult situation. And I am not alone. So, this is how I can weave my way out of the same predicament. And the attitudes that I should churn in myself."

One of the Jibunsyi' that was successfully adapted into an effective film was Oshin (a well loved TV series by women all over the world)- the story of the iron willed lady who did not give up hope even though the tides turned against her.

Thanks a million, Ms. Aina Dayana Hilmi! Appreciate your efforts. Really do!

Apr 01, 2010
Aina Dayana Hilmi rated it: 3/5

bookshelves: family, read-2010

Read in April, 2010

(Malay readers may read the review here.)

Eid Mubarak!

Wishing everyone Eid Mubarak 1430H!

Please forgive... for any misunderstood words or wrong doings on my part.

May Allah accept all our good deeds and may we get to see Ramadhan again next year, Insha Allah (God willing….)

PS. The nest is quiet now, no more whimpers or sweet baby talk from little baby Ameer Ihsan nor chatters from his talkative elder sister Nuha Insyirah. They have left for down south, to be with their father’s side of the family, having spent the last few days of Ramadhan with us. And so, my other half and I decided to start the six days of fasting in Shawal. If we don’t make a start, probably we will not make it at all. Good deeds shouldn’t wait, right?

Still so happy together…

September. Brings back all the memories at the back of my mind. Happy days and sad moments. 30 years….is a long time. That is how long we have been together. My other half and I.

The day before our anniversary, we sat next to each other, shoulder to shoulder, in a train. Enjoying each other’s company, watching the scenery. All the way from KL Sentral to Parit Buntar.

Along the way, there were so many things to see, to laugh at, to reminisce. At Ipoh, I recalled the train would be full of white clad boys (from STAR - where else?). The residential school where my husband hailed from. Some of the experiences on the train rides during school holidays decades ago, I have shared in my book Seungu Lavendar.

We passed by Bukit Berapit where the station is in ruins now. All dilipidated and in a sad state. But I could recollect the time when back then, the station was still intact and functioning; N, a hostel mate of mine (when all of us Tunku Kurshiah College, Seremban girls were on our way home up north, sleeping in chartered coaches in the year 1974), winked from her deep sleep in the middle of the night. Thinking that it was nearing her stop, N threw her luggage out the door of the train which was slowing down momentarily. Before we could stop her, she had hopped down from the train. If not for the shouts from the KTM man on duty, asking her what was she thinking, which of course startled her and caused her to wake up from her state of delirium and scrambled frantically back up the coach, I think she would have been stranded all alone in the pitch darkness and jungle, in the middle of nowhere. From then on, we took the liberty to take on the incident as a subject for N to be teased about. Naughty us!

At a certain stop called Pondok Tanjung, what a sight to behold! It was as if time stood still. As though we were caught in a time tunnel of the 1950’s. Especially the rustic quarters, children waving, smiles from wrinkled faces holding onto their motorbikes, patiently waiting for the train carrying us to go by, at the tiny railway crossing. Must remember to get hold of a few pictures, next time…

And then, another delightful sight - Tasek Merah. Looking out through the window, one has the impression that one is flying across the lake, as the track cuts right across the serene waters….my heart involuntarily sang to the melodious tune of the 1967 song, “So Happy Together”.

It was just wonderful! All praises be to God. What a great way to spend one’s 30th wedding anniversary….Thank you, Allah. I pray that God would allow us to grow old gracefully, the same like as this kindly soul, a friendly visitor of my blog who happened to hop by (admire his sincere efforts, good work and having spent a fruitful life) just celebrated…(for theirs is 45 years…Subhanallah….)

Interesting site about Malaysian trains and its history, click here..

Hectic but fulfilling…

Have had so many things in my mind. And had my hands full lately.

Since last year, have been chairing the ever demanding job of organizing our school’s biannual international conference RoViSP’09 (Robotics, Vision, Signal Processing and Power Applications), this time around to be held at the Awana Porto Malai, Langkawi, 19 dan 20th of December. Now is the crucial moment. Registration and payments are coming in. Sponsorship has been very poor mainly because of the economic downturn. Nevertheless, judging from the good number of participants from within Malaysia and international countries, I am thankful to You, Allah for having had the opportunity to lead a very disciplined and hardworking committee members. We hope this conference would prove to be a success as always…Insha Allah (God willing).

My two precious grandchildren and their mum (and very helpful maid) were with us at our hometown for a week. So, I had to juggle the balls very well. The fours hours of driving daily (back and forth) from Ipoh to Parit Buntar was something I had not done for quite a while as my other half was away for most of the days of the week at Putrajaya and up north in Perlis. But then, I learnt to appreciate the Greatness of Allah through His creations. The magnificent mist amid the greeneries (in the wee hours of the mornings just before and after the Menora Tunnel) and scenic mountain views of Kinta Valley at dusk, just before reaching the Jelapang toll. Plus the beautiful faces of the little ones – Ameer Ihsan and his sweet chatterbox sister Insyirah, when I arrive at my doorstep. Thank you Allah, Alhamdulillah…

It is not too late to wish a very blessed Ramadhan to all. Now is the time for sowing…to do good to ourselves as well as unto others… May Allah accept our good deeds, Amin…

Chip off the old block…

“What happened?” I asked, gushing out of my friend’s house upon hearing a loud screech and bangs. It was already nearly 11 o’clock at night.

“That car driven by that couple of teenages, rammed into A’s. Over there!” my husband pointed his fingers to our friend’s vehicle, parked neatly over the ample kerb.

I saw two teenagers, one a girl and another a boy, standing at the far corner of the spot, their faces very sour.

“How did this thing happen?” asked our friend A’s eldest daughter Z, who was already outside the house before me. With her, her young daughter, her younger brother-in-law and her own younger brother, snapping away with his digital camera at their father’s ruined car.

Z’s father was in Kuala Lumpur (KL) while her mum, my old friend, was recuperating at home after undergoing a major operation just a few days before.

The back of A’s continental car was hugely dented, its tail lights broken, the splinters spilling onto the ground while the front part was crushed into a lamp post. The other car was a total wreck with about a third of its front portion all tangled up.

“I think your car is only worthy to be sent to the scrap yard. Its chassis too may be badly affected. You two have driving licenses?” said my husband to the teenagers.

The two shook their stone-faced heads.

“What were you thinking?” asked my husband.

“I lost control while trying to avoid another incoming car,” the girl said.

“Another car? There wasn’t any. I saw what happened,” my husband muttered, looking at me. I could sense that the girl was trying to tell a lie.

“And what were you two doing?” I asked, with a frown on my forehead.

“We were trying to learn how to drive,” said the girl, again trying to tell a lie.

“Listen here, young lady! People take driving lessons at a valid driving school during day time to learn driving, not at this time of night!” I said.

Then, out of concern, my husband asked again, “Have you called your parents?” His right hand was pointing to a car sticker, with a symbol of the police department on the front shield of the vehicle.

Only then did the girl start to play her fingers on her cell phone.

“Both of you still studying?” I asked.

“Fifth form this year,” said the boy, standing with his legs fidgeting.

“Which school?” I continued asking.

“That school nearby,” he said, his fingers pointing to an area at the back portion of the housing estate.

“Whose car is this?” asked my husband.

“My father’s,” said the boy.

“How come the girl was driving it?” asked my husband.

Again, the stone faced looks from the two teens.

“The girl was driving too fast, right at that junction over there while she should have slowed down and stopped before moving on. She hit this stationary car belonging to A and the momentum caused it to veer forward, hitting the lamp post. Costs incurred, easily aaround RM 10 K for A’s car while the boy’s car might go up to between 30 till 40 K!” said my husband out loud.

“I hope you have learnt your lesson? And you learnt the hard way. Next time, no license, no getting behind the wheels. Please remember that!” I started.

A little while later, a car arrived. The driver who was a lady, parked quite a distance from where we were standing.

“Oh! My God!” said she, trying to calm herself down by rubbing her right hand on her chest, “I told her she can’t drive when she wanted to use our car to go out. And now, this thing has happened. I will pay for all the expenses incurred,” said the lady. I held out my hand to hers, trying to sooth her.

Just then, another car stopped at the nearby roadside.

A man with bits of sweat clearly seen on his forehead got out. He said, “Oh my god! I am not well and my head is throbbing so bad,” as he walked up and down the two wrecks.

“This must be your car?” said my husband.

“Yes!” said the man.

“I am sorry to tell you this. But it wasn’t your son driving it!” said my husband, trying to sound candid.

“Tell you what I will do! I will report that I was the one who drove the car when the accident happened. Easier to claim for insurance,” said the man, wiping the sweat on his forehead.

“I do not want to know whatever you want to do or how you do it. I am more concerned with my friend’s car. He is away. Somebody has to pay for the damages,” my husband said.

“And you two! This is not the time to be galavanting around. You should be glad that you were not hurt. Taking an important exam at the end of this year, right?” said my husband.

“Actually, I don’t like the idea of my son driving especially when he doesn’t own a license. But you know these youngsters,” said the man, trying to make a point.

“Oh no! We have to make it clear to our children. No license, no getting behind the wheels. And we have to be very firm about it,” said I.

“My daughter said she was only out to get a book. She had wanted to use our car but I said no. When she said that a friend would be driving, I relented. And now, she’s the one driving a car that is not hers,” said the mum who was silent all these while.

“Sis, I am sorry to say this, but next time, please do not believe everything that our youngsters say. Sometimes we have to be strict to be kind. And another thing, a boy and a girl, at this time of night,” I said lowering my voice, holding her shoulders.

The lady nodded her head.

“Okay now! We have to get going. We’re on our way to Kuala Lumpur actually. Remember my words, drive only when you get hold of a valid license,” said my husband to the two teenagers.

“If, we are able to secure it,” said the girl, defiantly.

In an instant, I was so irritated that I wanted to get away as soon as possible.

There was no sign of remorse nor regret, judging from the attitudes of the teenagers. A boy and a girl, alone in a car at that time of night? A girl who is so used to telling a lie (she lied to her mum) and so assumed that she could also cook up some story (about avoiding another car and learning how to drive at that time of night) in order to get away with something which she did. A father who was prepared to tell a lie in order to cover up.

What concerned me most was that, he uttered those words in front of the children. His own son. As parents, what kind of messages and values are we sending to our young ones? That, it is perfectly OK to tell a lie? Two wrongs does not make a right. As a father, surely you would want to instill honesty to someone of your own blood and kin. How about sense of respect? Dignity? Integrity? I shudder at the thought. Both my husband and I were very disturbed……

Another precious gift...

Tuesday, 7th. July.

8.00 a.m.

My son-in-law called, “Mum! Nusaybah is wheeled into the labour room.”

“Okay! My prayers with you both,” said I, getting ready for my 9.00 a.m. lectures. My heart skipped a bit.

9.50 a.m.

My eyes kept creeping over to the elongated square face on my wrist. Then I bellowed, “All right class! I will be leaving you a softcopy of today’s materials and a few more. Let us call it a day. I need to be somewhere else. We will see each other again, Thursday afternoon.”

Puzzled looks.

“All right!” I snapped my fingers, putting my hands on the table, “My daughter is already in the labour room, her second one. I need to rush to Kuala Lumpur. I do hope you people will understand.”

Faces lit up. Smiles everywhere.

“OK! All the best!” bags flying, rumbling of chairs.

“Congrats Prof!” from faces, beaming.

“Thank you!” I returned their greetings.

11.00 a.m.

My other half and I hit the highway down south, while my lips were constantly praying to God, to make everything smooth and easy. The past few nights were filled with fervent devotion to Him. For them - my daughter and her other half.

1.37 p.m. Tapah R & R Area.

A call again, “Mum! You have a grandson! Exactly an hour ago..”

“Alhamdulillah! Praise be to God!” Mist covering my eyes as I turned to my other half and smiled.

Puzzled look, then a smiles all over as my other half patted my shoulders and squeezed my hand. We were back on the road. But not before my beloved called my son-in-law, congratulating him. Our hearts raced as fast as the car could take us down the highway.

3.00 p.m.

However, we could not see or hold our beloved new addition to the family.

“He needs to be put under observation for tonight. Nothing to worry, just a precaution,” said Dato’ Dr. Musa Mohd. Nordin, the child specialist (who happened to be our dear old friend, decades ago while in the U.K.)

“He was silent for a few minutes. But he opened his eyes just seconds after coming out into this world,” said the father, my son-in-law, proudly showing us the picture which he managed to capture on his phone.

I have never felt so blessed! Another precious gift from Allah, The Creator, The Bestower...

Welcome, Ameer Ihsan! May Allah bless you and may you turn out to be a fine young man, steadfast in His path and savior of faith, Amin…

Third book project by Wanita JIM

This is the front page cover of JIM Women’s section’s newest writing project, “Mum – My First School” written in the malay language. The first project was “How I Finally Wore the Hijab” in the year 2003 while the second book, “Why I Work” was produced last year.

24 writers (men and women JIM members, nationwide) contributed to this collection of articles about their respective mothers. How these mothers raised us, through thick and thin and eventually made us become what we are today, despite their individual imperfections. It is hoped that these reading materials would be useful as guidelines for would-be and young mothers, reminders for those who are already mothers themselves and a ‘chicken soup’ style of reading material for general members of society.

I contributed one article in this endeavour about my late mum. She was married at the tender age of 14. How, despite being illiterate (even us siblings were not aware of this fact until we could ourselves, read at school), as she did not have the priviledge to go to school, being orphaned at the age of 2, she was able to face the world and accomplish many things. Memorising great recipes and preparing the delicious meals, becoming a renowned seamstress in her community and sewing our own clothes, involving in a small scale business to sustain the family expenditure and many more. In a way, her perseverance and her strength to prevail in times of hardship, to be ready to face challenges, and especially her passion in trying new things, is embodied in me.

There is something special in each and every one of our mothers. Therefore, take great care of them, your parents and appreciate their presence while they are still around. When they are gone, never forget to pray and make doa for them.

May their good deeds be rewarded by Him and may they be placed with those who do good…Amin, Ya Rabbul Alamin.

PS. Today marks a special occasion for us. My lifetime partner, Ir. Haji Mohd. Sofian Ahmad who has always been a beacon of light in my life, always been so supportive in whatever I do, is 52 today…Over the weekend, Little Nuha Insyirah has presented him with a huge hug, two kisses i.e. on each cheek and a cute card written “Happy Birthday, Tok Wan!” (Tok Wan is Grandad in the malay language).

The simple pleasures of life...

“Where are we going, Tok Wan?” asked our little Insyirah.

“You want to take a ride?” asked her grandpa, my other half that is.

The little girl's eyes lit up as she smiled and nodded her head.

We were babysitting again that weekend. My daughter and son-in-law had to study as their ACCA exams were just round the corner. So we decided to take the little girl out for some amusement.

At the play centre, Berjaya Times Square, we watched the roller coaster as it rumbled past above our heads.

“What is that noise?” said little Insyirah, her arms grabbing her grandpa’s neck and then laid her head upon his shoulder. The roller coaster turned raound a pillar and exited through another hanging track.

“That was a roller coaster. Do you want to take a ride on the bumble bee?” I asked, pointing my thumb to a certain section of the play centre.

The 3 year old little girl looked at me and said nothing. There was a frown on her forehead.

Just then, her grandpa said, “This place is a little bit too noisy for me.”

“I don’t like it too, Tok Wan!” she said, her words pouring fast out of her tiny lips..

“Would you like some ice cream instead?” I asked.

The little girl smiled a broad smile and so the three of us walked hand in hand. We sat on one of the steps in a secluded corner, leant against the wall, licking our ice creams. And we laughed a lot. All three of us.

Children. Very innocent. Very pure. Sometimes entertaining them doesn’t need one to bore a hole in one’s pockets.

Tears well up my eyes whenever I think of the more than 30% of Palestinians who perished were children, killed and maimed in the heartless Israeli attacks. No ice creams, no laughters. Just masks of death staring straight into their faces….

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.

Ramadhan…a blissful beginning..

“Look, Neena! Water!” said little Nuha, a look of wonder on her cute face.

“Yes! We will have a look at it on our way back, alright?” said I, grabbing hold of her tiny fingers.

Having parked our car at a convenient spot, our steps quickened; my other half and the children. This was our first Ramadhan as a complete family after four, long years. My youngest son has just returned from far away, after having completed his studies. All Praises be to God! Little Nuha wrenched free her fingers from mine and was having a whale of a time, running on the grassy patches in between paved walkways, here and there.

”Quick! We have to get to the masjid!” called out her mother.

Just then, her father swooped her up in his arms and in a few moments, we were on the doorsteps of Masjid Asy-Syakirin, KLCC, amid the melodious sound of the azan….

Little Nuha sat with her back on to the wall, sharing a colourful book with a new found friend, while her mum and I got ourselves ready for the isha’ prayer.

Then, it was time for the much coveted tarawikh prayers…the ladies, from different countries and nationalities reminded me of my student days in the seventies, back then in Sheffield…

All garbed in white, we stood in straight lines, when the call for the special prayer in this special month of the Muslim calendar, came on. My eyes caught hold of little Nuha, putting her finger onto her lips to her new friend and whispering, “Let us be quiet, okay?” The nodding head of her new friend, the look on little Nuha’s face, made me smile a little smile…

When the sweet recital of the holy Quranic verses filled the air, I was close to tears. For me, it was like time stood still. For, the magic voice that was reciting the verses totally captivated my heart and enraptured my soul…our prayers that night was led by Brother Abdullah Fahmi, winner of Academy Al Quran, the first season. After all, it is not very often that one’s ears have got the opportunity to listen to this enchanting recital.

Questions started to flip in my head. Will I get to see another night in this special month like this, the next year? The following year and the years to come? Only God knows...All Powerful and Almighty...

We are already halfway through this fasting season. That first night of Ramadhan 1429 was precious in my heart, a night to cherish and remember….

A Very Special Day!

08.08.08 – a very significant date, with very special numbers…

And a very special day to our little one…for Nuha Insyirah bt. Mohd. Khalil Izwan is 3 today!

You have brought laughter, tenderness and happiness to all of us…Especially to Tok Wan and Neena…you have made us understand the meaning of blissfulness...instances that sometimes words cannot describe...

May Allah guide you and protect you all through your lifetime…May you grow up to become a fine Muslimah one day…Amin…

The end of one era…the beginning of another…

It feels good to get away once in a while…

Not alone, but to be together as a whole….To relish moments, to be close to each other…Moments that one day, we may cherish…snapshots to be relinquished and be amused with…

That was exactly what I did…disappear altogether to another part of the world…us (my other half, our eldest daughter, her family and I). We were about to spend two weeks together…in the UK.

Even then, I couldn’t help noticing the anxiety that hovers over my daughter’s face as she carried her laptop on her back all through the journey, thinking about the unfinished pieces of work that was expected of her from her boss….from one of those gleaming windows, up the Twin Towers…overlooking Kuala Lumpur.

I could only shake my head, for as all of us laid in bed, she was still up, in a room down below, flicking her fingers on the keyboard…and sending pieces of worksheets and financial reports across the digital connect. Alhamdulillah for the internet!

As usual, Manchester was all drizzling and grey. Little Nuha Insyirah seemed very much at home with the cold atmosphere. The rest of us reveled in our gloves and thick garments…summer there was just like as I remembered last year…cold and gloomy…

The great day came….Friday the 11th. of July….the 2.30 p.m. session

Everbody was in a hurry. Nuha Insyirah’s Ayah Cu (nickname for Youngest Uncle) will have to run right after Friday prayers, at the St. Mary’s Hospital, Oxford Road, about a kilometer away and be at the Whitworth Hall for his Degree Congregations, (at least that is how it is called over there and written on the front page of the official purple book)…while the rest of us, made our way in our ‘fine attire’ by taxi from 156 Kings Road M16 0EL. At 2.00 p.m. sharp and then the entrance doors will be closed. So, we had to move fast.

The colourful gathering, with parents in their respective national attires, siblings, friends from across the globe…in the grand hall. I had not the slightest inkling that the Co-Chancellor had handpicked my son’s session to be the one which she preferred to preside, until it was made known by the master of ceremony. It was indeed an honour to us! Yes! She! For the Co-Chancellor (the first ever female Chancellor) was none other than the Honourable Ms. Anna Ford, the eloquent anchorwoman of BBC’s 6 o’ clock news in her younger days. Those who were in the UK in the late 70’s and early 80’s (like my other half and I) would have remembered her, a familiar and respected voice and face on the radio and television.

She was elected as the Chancellor, sharing duties with Sir Terry Leahy, for the past seven years. She was a product of the University of Manchester herself (back then it was known as the Victoria University of Manchester), became the first woman president of the Students’ Union and was responsible for setting up the International Society in the 60’s to cater for the welfare and social needs of international students at Manchester's three universities. And last year, she presented the degree to her own daughter. However, this session will be her last as she will be retiring. The air in the hall was full of sadness when this was mentioned during the session encompassing avionics and aerospace and mechanical engineering graduands. Maybe that is how other people would feel and how it would be like if one has carried out one’s duties diligently, splendidly and wholeheartedly.

It was truly a pleasure to listen to her articulate speech. For having graduated in the field of economics and her own vast experience as a broadcaster and journalist, she speaks from her heart. (Such bizarre contrast from the monotonous and dry voices we sometimes tend to hear from prepared speeches here locally, by our own dignitaries…) It was short, simple and sweet yet meaningful and inspirational….

She elegantly conveyed, “It is quite unfortunate that as engineers, you and your breed are sometimes taken for granted and quite forgotten by the public….However hard it may be, you must remember these.... the planes you build must be able to fly, the bridges that you design must not crumble and the roads that you pave must lay intact… rest assured that as engineers, the duties and responsibilities that you shoulder will have to be bourn with ethics and strict discipline…A feat which I trust you will adhere to…for the rest of your lives…”.

As she took back her seat, Ms. Ford was again roused to her feet for a standing ovation and a presentation of a fine basketful of flowers…in honour of the services that she upheld within the university since 2001.

I could not help laughing when the master of ceremony mispronounced our son’s name as “Anas bin MohamED SOFAYAN” instead of MohamAD SoFIAN. As we walked out of the hall, my other half and I took a glimpse of each other and smiled a meaningful smile….And as our son and his friends tossed their respective mortars straight up into the sky, amid laughter and joy, we were overcomed with a certain kind of feeling…undescribed…..our little boy was our baby no more, for he has conquered his own odds….A new phase has just ended….and a new one is dawning…..All praises be to God….Alhamdulillah...

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.

Raudhatus Sakinah....the shelter

This is a shelter for young girls...those who suddenly found themselves too young to be a mother, without legal bonding with a man whom they may call husbands through the laws of shariah. Yes! These girls and their babies need to be saved. They need to be rehabilitated rather than shunned by the society. What is to become of them if nothing is done? We need to prevent them from throwing away their innocent babies at public places; into the roadside bins, to be left at the mercy of stray animals…very heart wrenching... The parents of these young girls must sign an agreement to allow at least a year for their girls to adhere to a strict program. In so doing, their daughters may be enlightened and brought back to the right path, Insha Allah…

This institution too provides the necessary support i.e. emotional support, guidance and education for its occupants. They are all young Muslim girls, aged in the range between 14 until the early twenties. All of them would be given sound exposure to spiritual awareness and are exposed to basic skills as provision when they get back into the society. Their babies would be given up for adoption by families strictly screened to possess strong religious background. The girls too need to be assisted, their self esteem need to be restored, so too their knowledge on clean, safe and healthy lifestyle when they venture back into normal day to day life and to be of benefit to others. RS is an effort to care for the state of welfare and the well-being of society and the ummah in combating social ills, rampant in our society.

The whole idea of setting up such a centre was mooted by Associate Professor Dr. Harlina Halizah Hj. Siraj, the Chief of Women’s Wing Pertubuhan Jamaah Islah Malaysia (JIM). Raudhatus Sakinah (RS) was registered under the Ordinance of Care Centres (1993), the Department of Social Welfare. Dr. Har, as she is fondly called, became the chairman of RS and its affiliates throughout Malaysia. The one situated on mainland Penang is the third centre after the main one which is situated at Sungai Buloh (inaugurated officially in August 1998, under the care of UmiRoses) while another was set up at Kota Baru, Kelantan. The forthcoming one will be in Johor. As is the norm, centres such as these need substantial amount of fundings to run, most of which are through sincere donations and pledges from individuals and groups. This is part and parcel of the challenges facing institutions run by Non-Governmental Organizations (NGOs) such as JIM. It can be very hard….

As a stark contrast to other institutions such as kindergartens for example, the setting up and the mushrooming of RS everywhere is something that is not to be proud of. RS sprouting here and there is an indication of the dire state of affairs of the social decadence prevalent in our society. The alarm is ringing and it is ringing badly too! There must be some form of measures to curb the permissiveness of sexual attitudes amongst our younger Muslim generation.

The central committee of JIM and its Women’s Wing, together with its branches at the various states and districts have been actively involved in numerous campaigns and programmes. These activities include educating the society specifically through intensive one-day programmes for boys and girls at secondary schools such as “I Am Smart! I Avoid Fornication!” The approach is modified with the theme “You Be Smart! Avoid Fornication!” usually reaching out to the public and are stationed at shopping malls in the city centres.

While driving back from my fortnightly meets, my mind would play back the minutes that were spent with the girls. Flashes of childlike faces in their teens, slightly built shoulders, hunched over newborn babies cradled on thin laps. The looks on the faces belied the turmoil in their hearts…imagine having to part with their small ‘bundles of joy’. My heart reached out to them. For I too have a young daughter who is already a mum herself. But then, she is being loved and loves the man of her life, is constantly being surrounded by the squeals of young ones and affectionate people, parents-in-laws and sibling-in-laws. Isn’t that the dream of every young girl? Obviously, every young girl's dream does not include spending time as an occupant of a place such as Rhaudatus Sakinah!

“Oh Allah! Guide them (the girls) all at RS and open up their hearts so they may each repent and be able to carry out a new life. Please protect us, our children and our children’s children from the calamities and fitnah besieging Muslims of our times…Amin..”

All of a sudden, I remember the face of my sweet, little Nuha Insyirah…the apple of our (my husband whom she affectionately calls 'Tok Wan' and I, "Neena") eyes…It has been more than three weeks since we last saw her…..I am really looking forward to meeting her this weekend, Insha Allah!

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!

That forlorn face....continue to haunt...

I pulled my fingers that were wrapped on the steering, careening the car to a halt at a petrol station off the main road from Taiping to Parit Buntar. An innocently sweet face greeted me at the first booth just as I drove past it.

The innocently-faced young man came running to assist me.

“Are you a teacher, ma’am?” smilingly, he asked. His hands holding the petrol pump which he gingerly inserted into the car beside me.

“Yes! Indeed I am!” said I, smiling back at him.

“Which school, may I know?”

“Actually I lecture at Nibong Tebal, the engineering campus, just across the border!”

“The university?” his face suddenly lit up as he said the words.

“Yes! How long have you worked here?” I asked, the curiosity in me was aroused as I studied his physique. He looked like someone fresh out of school.

“Just a few months ago. Actually, I was asked by my father to come back here to take care of my ailing grandmother. I also have my younger brothers’ and sisters’ mouths to feed. So I had to get a job.”

“Why aren’t you furthering your studies?” My heart cried out to know more.

“I had an offer from a university further down south, a few months after the SPM results were released.”

“Then? Didn’t you register?”

“As I said, my father has asked me to take care of granny and to find a job.”

“Where are you parents? Your mum? You dad?” I could not help frowning.

“My mum has passed away. My dad just married another.”

My heart sank. The young face was downcast on the floor by now, trying to hide away the cloud of sadness that might have appeared.

A loud thud! Full! And I was jolted back.

Instantaneously, I said, “Listen here, okay? Take good care of your granny. And your siblings too! God will reward you, Insha Allah. And bestow upon you bounties from paths you least expect. Believe me! I will make doa for you, Insha Allah!”

“Thank you, Aunt!” the shine of innocence lit up again on his face.

Payments to be made. As soon as I stepped out of the glass door of the service station office, I held up my hand. In the direction of the young man right across the other side of the premise, signaling my departure.

Hands waved eagerly back to me. Hands belonging to the sweet, innocently faced young boy.

My thoughts were constantly stirred by those frantic hands. All the way back to the campus, my heart reached out to that face. The intelligent face..looking forlornly on the floor…

Will there be light at the end of the tunnel for him? Oh Allah! Please….help him….Amin.