Monday, August 18, 2008

Troubled but determined…












He was doing his final year project under my supervision. How I had to practically run after him every few weeks to watch his progress. He seemed excited at first. Then along the way, he lost his confidence. I did not receive his progress report. My emails to him went unanswered. Then, I had to send word through his friends (whom I tried to identify while at the university cafeteria) that he had to see me. And urgently too!

A few days later, he came.

He sat on the chair, running his hands through his disheveled hair, his eyes downcast on the floor.

“How are you doing?” I asked, breaking the silence.

“I just don’t seem to get things in the right perspective,” he replied, wiping both his eyes with the tips of his thumbs.

“And what do you mean by that, may I ask?” I said, clasping both my hands and placing them on the table in front of me.

“I just don’t know. Everything seemed fine at first. Then, things just fell out of place. I just don’t seem to get things the way I wanted,“ he said, his eyes now red at the brims.

“For example?” I asked.

Silence again.

“Actually, I have a big problem, back home. I am feeling very confused and disoriented,” he said, shaking his head.

“Everybody has got problems. So do I. In these situations, it is not about how you are going to solve the problem but how to survive without losing focus and maximizing your full potential! Find some pieces of driftwood, that you can hold onto!” I said.

“It is just that, things are so bad and I feel so helpless!...I don’t know!” his hands were clasped firmly to the sides of the chair.

“Look here! Young man! The biggest problem that you are facing right now is that – you NEED to graduate! And listen to me! Do you really want to graduate?” I firmly put the question to him.

He nodded his head.

“Do you want to be an engineer?” I asked.

He nodded his head again.

“I am not convinced!” I retorted.

“Yes! Of course, I want to become an engineer!” he said out loud.

“Then put aside your problems. Or rather, forget about your problems for these few weeks and focus!”

He was silent.

“I want to see your progress report before next week!” I said.

“I need to print some of the pages in colour, but I don’t have a colour printer,” he muffled.

“Can’t you just print them at the shops?” I asked.

After a momentous silence, he lifted his head from the floor and said in a whisper, “I don’t have the means to pay.”

“Why didn’t you just say so, in the first place!” I mumbled.

I rummaged my fingers through my handbag, handed him some cash and he was gone. Not after I dismissed his profuse ‘thank yous’…

Sure enough, his progress report was in my pigeon hole at the end of the week. And it was a job well done!

A few days before his final year project submission, I was again full of anxiety.

“Have you seen *****?” I asked a familiar face whom I met while on my way down to the general office, to get my letters.

“He is around but…” the student said, pulling his face away in another direction.

“But what?” I asked.

“He is at it again. Down and in low spirits…”

“If you see him today, tell him I want to see him by the end of this week, okay?” I said.

Two days after that, he came, his face unshaven and gloomy.

“Why do you keep doing this?” I blurted out.

“I don’t know Ma'am! It is just that, I feel so troubled and very sad. I don’t even feel like going home during the long breaks.”

“Not again?” I said.

He turned his face to the floor.

“Your final year dissertation need to be in. I want to see what you have written so far. Bring whatever you have in three day’s time. Is that clear?” I demanded.

“All right, Ma'am!” he said, his eyes were full of sadness.

“Is that a promise?” I said.

He nodded.

I shook my head and said, “I want to listen to the words!”

“I promise!”

Three days later, he turned up in my office and we went through the dissertation together. His work was excellent though not really polished. And he was willing to make amendments according to my suggestions.

The day of viva came. I was very pleased with his performance during the project presentation. So was the co-examiner.

“You could have gotten an A if you had been punctual in handing in your progress reports and all! But then, I hope you will settle for an A-,” I quipped.

“I would be so very happy even if I had managed to get a B!” he said gleefully.

(This event took place many years ago, while the engineering campus was still at Tronoh….to be continued…)

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

What's that, Teacher?"



















“What’s that, Teacher?” a question was shot in the air and caught on my ears, coming from cute little lips…

“You mean, that one?” said a man in his thirties, pointing his fingers to a cluster of tall brick towers in the distance, with the same brick walls encircling .

Something about the children and everything else, made me stopped in my tracks. I just had to listen to the teacher’s explanation. My family and I were taking a walk beside the Thames, venturing from the Tower Bridge and we were approaching the Tower of London.

Then, there was laughter… the children running, their steps changing to small steps right after these words from their teacher, “Walk in pairs, please! And hold your partner’s hands. Don’t run! Have you forgotten what I said earlier?”

The sweet faces nodded sheepishly.

“We will be going in now! There are going to be a lot of people around. So, please remember my words, okay?” said the teacher, shaking his head, hands on hips.

I smiled a long smile.

At a corner near to the exit, a group of children were sitting on benches and the curbs, enjoying their packed sandwiches and drinks. Yet another group were hunched on the grass, their fingers holding crayons and coloured pensils, their faces intent on the white sheets spread in front of them.

This is how children are exposed to the subject of history in this part of the world. Since small, they were instilled with this type of learning, spurring inquisitiveness and the love for quest of knowledge through experiential learning. Not through spoon-feeding and boring sessions in the classroom.

Through discussions with a number of parents who have had the privilege of having their children going through their early years in school in this part of the world, I could gather a few things.

“Our children just love school. They are ever so excited here…they insist to be at school even when they are sick!”

I was in Chester, a medieval city, a short distance from Manchester early last year. At the excavation site of the Romans (only just recently discovered, i.e. in the year 2006), I bumped into a group of small children, dressed up in Roman costumes, in pieces here and there. One of the teachers was a man, all dressed up, complete with a bright red cape. He also took the liberty to act out a short skit, depicting a comical Roman emperor. Of course, the children (especially the boys) were squealing with laughter. It was January, I had three layers of clothing, including a thick jacket and gloves covering my fingers. The teacher had his legs bare to the mercy of the cold winds…

I salute the teacher, for his selfless efforts and dedication. In this western part of the world, there are still men who love teaching and being around small children. I do wonder… Do we still have such men back here in Malaysia?

Friday, August 8, 2008

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…

Monday, August 4, 2008

Special writing workshop for Raudhatus Sakinah...





















My head was still swimming…trying to make sense of day and night…the time loss or gain, travelling from west to east. But then again…a promise is still a promise.

Saturday, the 26th. of July, I got myself ready to conduct a special writing session for occupants of Raudhatus Sakinah (Penang Branch).

Eager faces awaited me, greeting me with salams and anticipating an enjoyable session as I promised them in one of my prior visits at their abode. They were all seated cosily in a seminar room at one of the schools of the Engineering Campus, Universiti Sains Malaysia, Nibong Tebal.

As the day commenced, pen encircled on fingers quivered, white sheets whined and writhed under nibs, full of scribbles…Then as minds start to thaw, tears welled up in those faces as one by one, each read their respective creative pieces. As much as I tried to control my tears, some still managed to hang on to my lashes. Right after reading each one of their writings, some of the participants just dropped back onto their chairs, in between sobs and cowered their faces on their desks, drenching the surfaces with their tears…

Writing is a form of therapy, an avenue to vent out ones’s anger, frustration or regrets over past misdeeds…expressing repentance to God and especially so to their parents who must have gone through such tremendous emotional upheaval in this tribulation. Also to carve into their hearts, the expectations and hope for their future, to strive and overcome whatever obstacles that may lie ahead…

I once came across an article – children who were victims of the Tsunami years ago, were encouraged to overcome their grief and post Tsunami trauma through drawings and paintings…likewise, I had hoped that this writing workshop would function as the same, to these young hearts..

At the end, I had expressed my aspiration to have a book published, a collection of writings from the occupants as well as the wardens and manager of RS…God willing. This collection would hopefully serve as a reminder to all the other young people out there...who are still unaware of the pitfalls, nooks and corners in treading life in this world. Life is not a straight line…may this book be a guidance and a beacon of light for others…

May Allah accept this little effort...Amin.

PS. A word of thanks to the manager of Raudhatus Sakinah (Penang Branch), Mrs. Inayah Isa for the collection of images...

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

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...

Saturday, July 5, 2008

Teaching nestlings how to fly....

I swept my feet across the tarmac of the carpark. From the distance, could be heard the voice of Friday prayer sermon, coming from the campus masjid, full of spirits.

“So many things yet to settle!” I said, then reminded myself wholeheartedly, “remember the hadith – take advantage of 5 things before 5 other matters….one of which is, your free time before you are busy…”

The past few weeks had made my hands full. To name a few, Outcome Based Evaluation (OBE) to be documented, new students intake, list of final year students’ project titles to be handed in, make my head spin…. Continuing Profesional Development (CPD) courses to attend, days in a row…

Even though one has attended an ‘Evaluation on Levels of Skills’ or better known amongst government servants as PTK (attended the TK6 – the highest level, sometime in 2004) , academics at my level need to gather a least 10 points on a yearly basis. No CPD, no pay rise. Attendance is compulsory for all the days in a stretch, failing which, no points would be awarded. In a way, I agree with this CPD thing because, apart from knowledge enrichment, we get to meet new friends from across campuses, and rekindling friendship with old ones...(met my senior during our school days when at TKC, Seremban in the recent CPD. Back then, I was in form four while she was in upper six…happiness!).

There was still an assignment which I was supposed to come up with for the department before the school board meeting next week (will have to delegate the presentation to a colleague as I will be away…Where? Will explain later).


My head was full of these ‘things to do’ when suddenly my eyes chanced upon a group of adolescents. Two of them, lying down on the gazebo top which was right at the centre of the courtyard of the department block, surrounded by greenery. The others were in a playful mood, jostling each other, pulling their smart prayer attire and the white caps on their heads.

I decided to just throw some words amid their laughter and giggles.

“Why! You are all dressed up fine and handsome. Must be ready for your Friday prayers?”

“Yes!” said one of the boys, who was lying comfortably on the gleaming tiled floor, enjoying its coolness.

“But since the sermon has not finished and no call for start of prayers yet, we want to wait here!” said another.

“Hmm…Why dont you just sit in the masjid and listen to the words of the sermon properly?” said I.

There was stillness in the air.

“All right! If you want to be good Muslims and give your prayer some values, listen to what I am going to say. Go to the masjid right now, okay?” I continued.

The bright young faces then traced their steps among the corridor in the department leading to the masjid.

This is not the first time I did such a thing. Numerous times before, I have said exactly the same thing to a different set of young faces.

“How my heart reach out to their parents! Thinking their children were already at the masjid. Instead, their youngsters are frolicking away!”

I have seen worse scenarios than this in other masjids. Young people loitering, and talking away, at the wired fences surrounding the masjid. At a very famous masjid near KLCC, I have seen young men unfolding their prayer mats under trees, quite a distance from the prayer area, preferring to do their prayers there. Haven’t it crossed their minds that they stand to gain nothing because the saf is discontinued?

I can only sigh……

PS. My family and I (including little Insyirah) will be away these two weeks, beginning the 9th. of July, for we will be joining our youngest son for his convocation (graduating on the 11th. of July with an M.Eng. degree in Mechanical Engineering, University of Manchester). Alhamdulillah, I am ever so grateful to Allah for fulfilling my doa that my son achieve his goal with flying colours. I pray that Allah confer the same upon all your children….Amin Ya Rabbul Alamin..

Thursday, June 19, 2008

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 cafĂ©. 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.)