The thing that most people fear the most….

“What is it that people fear most? Well! At least according to a survey done in the US!”

I threw this question to participants of a half day event held at the JIM Perak HQ. A few heads shook, some mutterings from lips…but my ears could not catch what were being said.

“Giving a cool speech in front of an audience!” said one – a teenage girl, seated on the second row from the front.

“You got that right!” said I, smiling, “in fact, some said they would rather die than open their mouths when all eyes are transfixed on who else but you, the speaker!”

Smiles…from the participants.

31st March 2008, was a date that I could slot in a short half-day workshop on Public Speaking in between my busy schedule. Participants were from the various districts making up JIM Perak State such as Ipoh City, Kuala Kangsar, Hilir Perak and Manjung). Their ages – ranging from teens right down to the late 40’s.

Halfway through the morning, I shared tips on the theories and facts. After the break, it was show time! Yes! Participants had a “hands-on’ experience.

“Cool! Everbody is excited and trying their best. In their respective groups,” I commented to an observer who decided to attend but preferred not to participate.

If sessions like this may be done periodically, I believe that most of the members would be able to overcome their ‘butterflies in their tummies’ and cold sweats on their palms syndrome; be it in a small group formal discussion or a one to one encounter with a total stranger.

In less than 2 hours, participants were able to evaluate themselves on how good they were and how they should improve themselves based on feedback from other group members. And unexpectedly, someone most demure and quiet (who did not have a clue that she can be a good speaker all this while) was most surprised that she was voted one of the best speakers (Puan Latifah – the wife of our one time YDP JIM Negeri Perak – Dr. Mohd. Fadzil). The rest of the participants looked equally excited and strived to give their best shots during the exercise.

The ability to speak effectively is absolutely necessary for each and every one of us, irrespective of where we are and what we do. The urgency is ubiquitous, in situations such as:

a. whereby effective communications need to prevail. For example, our children - entrance to institutions of higher learning, undergoing the process of interviews,..good diction and clear delivery may heighten and impress would-be employers. An effective speaker may easily get their message across to the people around them, avoiding deadlock and inefficiency in the whole work process, thus ensuring smooth transactions. An NGO like JIM certainly need this plus point!

b. When we are able to make other people understand us and our message gets across, our self esteem would certainly spiral exponentially. “You feel good about yourself”. Self motivation curves up on our personal graph and we certainly feel like contributing more efforts and more often too!

c.Most significantly, communicative skills is paramount for every one of as dai’e (a task incumbent on every Muslim individual regardless who and where we are i.e. the task to dissipate the teachings of Islam). More so, for JIM members.

The least that the participants could gather from this small effort was to gain a few pointers. For example, throwing our voice over and the importance of voice intonations, body language such as hand gestures and how we carry ourselves, eye movements such as sweeping through the audience and focusing on faces and the eyes of audience, as well as facial expressions to ensure more ‘umph’ factor in delivery.

A more consistent group effort would ensure the effectiveness of this type of programme and to maintain the momentum afterwards. I believe that, in trying to wean people out of their comfort zone and to get them to contribute more towards uplifting our society, we need to supply the necessary ‘tools’ to them. In a way, I am very happy to be able to share what little knowledge that I have, in the speaking skills workshop such as this (and writing skills workshop before this)…

It is hoped that this knowledge would be forwarded and shared by the participants in their respective districts amongst the other members…May Allah reward us all…Amin.

Sharing is caring..which in turn may propagate love amongst us. This feeling of satisfaction is difficult to describe. But then again, it is aptly wrapped up in a saying which my other half (Ir. Haji Mohamad Sofian Ahmad) love to quote in his numerous invited speeches:-

“We make a living by earning…
We make a life by giving!”

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…)

It is that time of the year again...

April…the month of joyous moments…A year ago, I was there…Feasting my eyes…buds sprouting here and there…purple and white crocuses, blazing pink and white cherry blossoms painting the sidewalks…SubhanAllah!

At this present moment in time…are they still like so? Or already wilting away?

Oh! I do love those long walks..alone in the woods and parks…bringing with me, my ‘little faithful friend’…

Click! Click!

Pictures…are all I have now. At least…Moments….frozen in time…especially those yellow blossoms, swaying their proud heads in the gentle breeze…

I wonder when it will be? That my fingers might get to touch… your gentle petals all over again?

Launching of M-Books...

Great news for book lovers in Malaysia…

These books of mine are listed as those downloadable through your handphones.

Such a small price to pay …only RM 5 for each book. You only need to have a handphone that has a colour screen display…

Hurry and get them from http://www.metamobile.com.my/m-book/pts.php .

The story behind this project is available in my previous entry here

The launching ceremony was done by Puan Ainon Mohamad whom we fondly call SifuPTS recently held during the International Bookfair 2008 (4th till 13th. April) at the Putra World Trade Centre (PWTC), Kuala Lumpur.

(Please take note that these books are published in Bahasa Melayu…and are only downloadable using the service in Malaysia)

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!