Close But Not Actually A Close Call

I have been meaning to write about this and wished to have the entry posted right on the date to commemorate what had happened but I always had either my hands full or some other work cropped up by the time I touched the keyboard, apparently I had to miss the date. Awhh, the date was September 26th. Well it’s not so bad after all for me to have it penned now since the haze is now back, the factor that did and it was in such similar condition when it happened, 9 years ago.

I was coming back to Medan from a place called Brastagi, a cool place like Cameron Highland in our country except now the place was on the Karo Highland (Batak Karo – a sub-tribe of Batak people in Northern Sumatra) and headed straight to Polonia Airport for my flight to Jakarta. I would be having another round of discussion over office matters in Jakarta office that adjourned weeks before. I had been in Brastagi for days attending meetings and conducting trainings, thanks to Budianto, the assistant specially flown from our Jakarta branch office to assist me and he did give me lots of helping hand. I refused to have a lady executive to assist me as it was initially planned as I thought I wouldn’t be too sure of my own conduct while working too close for long hours alone with a beautiful & sexy lady :-)

The haze was at its peak in a week’s record. Yes, maybe it was hazy but I was kind of “hazed” with the way the driver made a run down the slope. The 4WD vehicle, Toyota Kijang seemed to be inches away, I do mean it literally was inches away from the vehicle in front each time when we overtake. It was amazing the way they drive. It was even more amazing when the two-lane trunk road can be used like three lanes with the middle part, right on the white line is used as an imaginary fast lane to speed or overtake, fully cooperated by the drivers both in the oncoming and ongoing vehicles by deliberately move as much as possible to the sides of the road to make space in the middle.

Every now and then, I could even feel the tyres lost tractions with the tarmac when tolerating corners. Up until the curve when we were overtaking another vehicle, sudden turn to the right that made me feel like still traveling in a straight line and yet forced to cage in and felt as if the body was thrown to the rear of the vehicle we had just overtaken and tyres simply screamed, I couldn’t stand it anymore. Felt so uncanny and I did burst out;

“By golly… For heaven’s sake, could you slow down a bit? You are scaring the shit out of me!”

“I am sorry Sir... But, in this part of the country, we are used to it and I’ve been behind the wheels for many years already”.

Gosh!

It brought some relief to me when minutes after he couldn’t speed up anyway. The road was clogged with traffics and I could hear fire engines roaring from afar. The place was Sibolangit district, later I learned that smoky village was specifically called Buah Nabar. Anyway, it was still Brastagi area.

Thick smoke filled up the air but nothing surprised me, I knew it was just another forest fire. Back in my mind I was wondering why these people had a cheek adding to the problem that exists. Couldn’t they see even now it was already hard for us to breathe, with itchy nose, eyes… and still, you wanna add some more?

Well, we were still in a comfortable time frame for a departure time when we reached Polonia, the airport, despite of long crawl passing through the burning area.

Goodness, the burning place where we passed less than an hour ago was the site of a plane crash, so we were told. Yeah, the airliner had crashed in that area. I knew it was something burning, all of us saw but we had no idea over the source of it as we could only see the smoke billowing from the woods, which was all… could be seen from the road.

I chose to line up for check-in at the counter that placed the most beautiful lady. Long before my turn for check-in, people were talking about the airline I was checking in, Garuda Airline, Flight GA-152 - Airbus carrier A-300 was the one that crashed. The carrier was supposed to carry me to Jakarta a little more than 2 hours after its landing.

Amidst of me and other passengers were inquiring further, the airport authority made an official announcement about the tragedy. And my jaw dropped!

In the news later it was confirmed that the plane crashed at 1:55 pm on that fateful Friday afternoon, 26th September 1997, about 15 minutes short before its scheduled landing some 30 km from the airport. 236 were dead including 14 crew members on the flight and a baby. On board were mainly Indonesians with handful of foreigners like the Americans, Dutch and Japanese. The tragedy was caused by the poor visibility due to haze. During the time the plane was down, the visibility was down to less than 100 meters.

I then joined other passengers for Jakarta bound with another carrier similar to the one went down after merely 2 hours later, said the haze cleared for safe take-off by the officials. Throughout the flight to Jakarta I felt some kind of eerie feeling, hence all those while I was always scared of flying regardless of hundreds of hours spent on board, if not thousands. No doubt the crash had got nothing to do with me except the plane I was supposed to board went down much too early.

When the crash happened, little did I realized, the management & staff in KL and Jakarta feared that I was among the victims? Even my secretary in KL, who should've had known better and was the one arranging my itinerary, got confused due to the flight number, feared the same. She cried.

I made a point to call everyone concern once I safely touched-down in Jakarta.

These are the actual pics of the crash site and above are the pics of Brastagi

My Firstliner: Republished

I was just browsing through my first entry ever in my blog late last year, titled My Firstliner. I read through my reply for a comment by a good friend of mine, nicknamed TUN. Something was telling me about the reply that for a moment it touched me. I had my eyes briefly clouded with tears for a second or two....

Here goes...
*********************************************************************************


Hi, TUN... Thanks for dropping by. How're our friends doing? Lately I'm kind'o busy. Right after Raya the other day, I engaged on a new project. Hardly have time to mingle around with you guys. Plenty of things need to be patched up. Handling a group of professionals in my team, I need to be a cut above the rests; quite taxing ay...

Pretty soon I'll let you know, a new thing in the portal. My people are working hard day and night. Some have to miss public holidays working on it.

Talking about family, I am having heckuva good life seeing my kids growing up before my eyes. My two boys just entered into the threshold of manhood, they were circumsized weeks ago. It's kind 'o "enjoyable" time with mixed feelings when you are at the operation table comforting your boys to go through the "circumsicion ordeal". Looking back at my old days, perhaps I didn't experience a father by my side to comfort me up, hence he passed away long before I knew what life was all about.

My girl.... phewww..she grows up faster than I ever imagined. All of the suddens, she's a young lady now. At times I am half-heartedly treat her as a kid knowing that she's a grown-up girl...

Enough for now, God Bless!!!

Saturday, December 31, 2005 10:53:42 AM

Cold Drinks

When I was small, we did not have refrigerator at our house. During fasting month we wanted to have it soothing on our throat during breaking of fast. A cold drink… with ice! So we had to buy it from a shop some 500 meters away from our house. I couldn’t remember since when it started unofficially assigned for me to buy ice every evening. I would have it bought long before the breaking fast time, around 4:30... 5:00 pm. When around say 6 pm the ice was yet to be delivered home, I was the one to be yelled at by my sister for she wouldn’t be pleased if having no cold drinks for her fast breaking.

I didn’t mind much being assigned for the job but I was annoyed over the yelling by the sister. Why did I not mind for the job? Because I did enjoy my time riding my grandfather’s bicycle. Mind you, the bike was big and heavy and I was pedaling through the side of it as my legs were still not long enough to pass the cross bar of the bicycle let alone have my butts settled on the saddle. Once I braved myself to have my legs atop the bar, I had my balls crushed, ouch! While I was riding, looking from the front, the bike was like leaning sideways to accommodate to the body weight bearing but I pedaled it with ease, though. Oh yeah…May be it was a bit wobbly.

One block of ice measuring 6-inch-cubed was selling at 10 sen. Duh, you cannot even dream of that price today. Perhaps the plastic bag to have it wrapped already cost as much. At times I came in late and ice was sold out. If it was not because of me buying it late but the ice was sold out in the early hours, it would not be much of the grudge made by my sister. But when it happened due to my procrastination or time being occupied and got carried away by the games with friends, there I would have it, my sister would not be happy at all and I would feel like shit listening to what she had to say to me.

Those were the days….

Today, my children can just take it for granted on the type of drinks for them during the breaking of fast.

GAB

Good Old Trait

Just like the month of Ramadhan in the previous years, the old folks gathered around in the madrasah after the tarawih prayers were over. It was way after 11 pm. They got around in a circle; some ten of them reciting Holy Koran. They took turn reading. When one was reciting, others would do the checking scrutinizing to see if they were reading incorrectly and would call for stop and corrected it when there was error in the reading. Each would take a page or two but some without hiccups in reciting would even go for more pages. Averagely, each person would get the chance of 5 to 10 minutes to read about.

There was a 7-year-old boy, would be watching the adults reciting Holy Koran one night after another. He knew he could read out Holy Koran with eloquence and clarity even to the standard of those adults. Sometimes to the surprise of his Guru when he absorbed what had been taught just like a sponge and performed it so well in practice. His Guru was no other than his own grandfather.

He wanted it so bad to join the group.

He asked his grandfather permission. His grandfather knew it too well he was of a class to join the group of adults and recite but given him excuses he had to retire early for the next day schooling. It was true also, in normal nights; it would last until 1 am. To the small boy, the frustration was so imminent.

Anyway, that boy was me.

With lame excuses like I was busy studying and in later years had not much time due to the busy work schedule I literally stopped reading Holy Koran. Guess what? This thing cannot be taken for granted; my reading skill became rusty and I had to take efforts to polish it back to the shines that I used to have when I was a kid.

Only in these late few years, I started to pick it up again bit by bit.


Ramadhan Mubarak!

The Children of My Life

Childhood is such a precious, yet trenchant part of life. We all have memories of our days as children along with stories of lessons learned. Childhood is reflected by most as being a time of bliss and enlightenment. As I recall my childhood, an avalanche of mixed feelings suffocates me.

Now I have kids of my own. This is one of the most beautiful things ever happened to me in my life – to have my own kids. I have a personal vow that I keep deep in my heart ever since I decided to have family of my own; I will give all the love and care to my own offspring as it is adverse to what I have had experienced during my tender years as a child.

If I were to go off from this very world tomorrow, I hope Fara, Sam and Edrin will someday read this blog for they’ll have it something written in words on what was in my heart during my lifetime. (Hey kiddos, you guys know it too well how much I loved and cared about you).

Yesterday, September 22, was Sam’s birthday. Before I knew it, he is already celebrating his 12th birthday this year. Just 2 months ago, on 26th July, Fara celebrated her 14th birthday and in the first quarter of the year, on 11th March, Edrin had his 9th.

Nature has it written in its book; they will grow up albeit my unfounded wishes to have them stay as kids for as long as I live.


“HAPPY BIRTHDAY SAM”

.

GAB

Recession: A Night to Remember

According to the definition, recession is when a period of general economic decline; specifically, a decline in GDP for two or more consecutive quarters. This is where the amount of business activity in the economy by looking at things like employment, industrial production, real income and wholesale-retail sales has reached its peak and starts to fall until the time when business activity bottoms out (Mike Moffatt, Your Guide to Economics).

It will only unleash to spurt when it hits the rock-bottom – a place nowhere else to go but to bounce back up.

Forget about how the economists look at it. As far as I am concerned, during the time I came back from overseas; our country was still being enveloped in recession. We were among the first countries to tumble in the domino effect of it and funny, among the last to stand right up. It was a bad timing for me to be back when the country was still recuperating from a waft of recession. Jobs were scarce and I was jobless.

It was a big blow on me since I used to have a good job with a good pay and had a good living in overseas and all of the sudden I had no means of income after returning back to the home country. If only I knew it was really that hard as what I was being forewarned, I would have had delayed my departure from the place until such a time that was right for me to be back. The pinch of not having source of income came to life when I started to exhaust my savings. It was at a speedy rate. Was it me or recession to blame?

I was having hard time to ration over the subsistence for having no clue on how the outlook of life course would fabricate for me. I was being trained over the typical day-to-day life in a foreign country and had no bona-fide-benchmark to compare with to fit the newly encountered life in Malaysia. Mind you, I was only a high school student when I left the country and had no idea on how the working life like in my own soil.

I felt miserable. At times, I would take refuge from my worrisome by roving around town especially in the night, to have moments for myself amidst the hustle bustle of the city. I still remember, the land area that sandwiched between Jalan Tuanku Abd Rahman and Jalan Raja Laut where Sogo is now located used to be an open area with a nice big stage in it called Pentas Sultan Sulaiman. The place was used for many types of events like cultural shows and such during weekends.

I was there on that Saturday night when the cultural dance was being performed. It was a good cultural dance routines by the dancers from the Ministry of Culture with thousands of people were watching and it lasted until 11:30 pm. After it was over, I decided to stay a while longer.

Crowd started to get thinner after hours past especially when it was way past midnight. It was a nice feeling to witness the changes from huge crowd to a smaller crowd, from very noisy to quiet or rather less noisy and from hot to a bit cooler temperature. But then I became curious when I noticed the place was gradually filled with transvestites. Well it was at least 40, 50 of them encasing the area until the parking lots behind EPF building over that side. Only then I realized that area was used as a pick-up point for those transvestites.

I have a habit of sitting quietly in a corner watching people. People are to me a very interesting species that are with clear distinctions from one to another. I would be in my own world reading the movements, the way they communicate, gestures, body languages, facial reactions and what not; of which in some ways it is analogous to my own self. I could never stop exploring and wondering about people and their characters and always get pleasant surprises in my findings.

I could see those transvestites were very pretty that put the local female artists to shame. I came to learn that they dubbed their names with the girly sounds like Suzy, Elly, Misha, Mimi, Sherry, Rose and the likes. And I am very sure they were way off from the actual names officially registered. I was so amused seeing them seducing the guys as much as outraged by the swear words with the kind of husky-feminine-manly voice when they got irritated by some cheeky guys.

I was actually not that naïve in the knowledge of gay world as I had seen it even worse in the overseas but it confused me a little looking at what actually exists in our own country with the attitude of it-only-happen-in-the-western-countries. Come to think about it, well, the basic rule of economics says, when there is a demand, there is a supply. I was also astonished seeing the patrons were rather of higher bracket of income people judging from the luxury cars stopped by picking them up after short conversations with the glass window rolled down, engine kept running.

I was watching at the closest group of “ladies” from where I sat down. There were 4 or 5 of them flocked together. One of them was very outstanding. I knew “her” name was Ju when I heard her friends calling her by the name. She was in a class of “beautiful lady“ that would make the authentic ladies envy over her look and poise. She was a quiet type and many young guys were teasing her. Being her, she had no problem in getting attentions. One moment or another she was engrossed with the potential "clients" she was after… or maybe those guys that were after her.

Policemen came. They were in a big truck. I think that was a routine surveillance by the enforcement unit in that area.

“Ju… polis datang… polis datang….” Her friend by the name Mimi shouted form yards away.

[“Ju… policemen are here… they’re here”]

“Ju... Cepatlah Ju… dah ada kat jalan sebelah sana….”

[”Hurry up Ju… they are over that side”]

It seems that Ju was still engrossed with her move and hardly heard what Mimi had shouted.

“Hey…. JUSOH…. Polis datang laaaaa....”

[“Hey JUSOH… policemen are here….]

Hahaha, then I knew HIS actual name was Jusoh.

Those transvestites ran helter-skelter and it was a funny sight to see when the ladies with the energy of men made their ways in hurry.




GAB

911

Yesterday was the 5th Anniversary of the twin towers of World Trade Center (WTC) tragedy in New York – better known as 911. On this particular day 5 years ago, I was in Indonesia, setting up a business over there together with two Malaysian friends and one Indonesian partner.

We rented a 4-story building for our office and we used the topmost floor of the building as a hostel for our staff. While waiting to find a proper house, we made do with the hostel for us to stay. At least it was cheaper than putting up at the hotels and after all we had only hired handful of karyawan (staff) at that time. There was plenty of space for us at the hostel before our full operation with a lot more staff coming in.

Dwan (not his full name) and I had just finished our dinner when Andre (not his actual name but pretty close) came up running from the office on the 2nd floor. I knew he was still working in the office when we were having dinner telling us that he was not in the mood to join us after an appalling squabble with the Preman (A member of an organized local gangster) over the business protection fees late in the evening.

“Saddam Hussein has just had his warplanes bombed the World Trade Centre in New York”. Andre

“Reallyyy?” I replied hastily but the actual thing running in my head was “Saddam managed to slip his way to the US soil?!” Amazing! But….

Obviously, back in my mind I wondered how in the world it may have had happened due to the impenetrable security measures of the US that I knew of. “That guy must be a hell of a great”. Silently an admiration towards Saddam grew.

Both of us found it hard to believe but not to the extent not believing what Andre had told us. Andre told us, a friend in KL, also our friend had just called telling about the breaking news.

We had no way to confirm the news because we did not have a TV set just yet and the social circle we had were still very limited for us to call up asking something casual like that. I did call up our Indonesian partner, Pak Sutrisno (his real name), but of no use, he knew nuts about it. Initially we never thought of getting the reliable breaking news from the internet. Minutes after talking about it, so then we realized how unintelligent we were and thus we quickly went downstairs to check it out over the internet.

It was true that something did happen to WTC, New York but it was reported that the airplanes hit the buildings, and both towers were hit, but not being bombed as we were made understood earlier. At that moment the towers were still standing. Speculations said it must have been a terrorist attack but by whom, to be precise it was yet to be determined. It made sense to me it had been an act of terror considering both towers were hit by the airplanes. If it was an aviation mishap, it would have just happened to only one building, one airplane. At that point, the initial idea of Saddam Hussein was in the plot as what Andre had told us slowly diminished. Reports by Yahoo were very quick pointing at the Al-Qaeda. Not just Yahoo, any source of news for that matter was very similar to one another.

It’s amazing; they could establish it in a matter of less than an hour to put the blame on. As-a-matter-of-factly speaking, they just simply point at them first, and the truth will come out later just like what it did minutes after the Oklahoma bombing incident. In that incident, it was proven to be their own people voicing out discontent over the corrupt system the Americans are rearing. To them, correct or not is another issue altogether. “We’ll deal with it later”.

After knowing the complete story about the incident, I had a mixed feeling. Call me less Islamic. I would never concur to the act when thousands of innocent civilians had died, tens of thousands were injured and many folds of thousands in tens had to deal with the losses of the loved ones. Having said that, not in a single pause of breath it means I am in agreement over the foreign policy of the US either.

Anyway, I do not actually intend to discuss over this. I just want to relate it to the eventful moment that occurred on 911 in the year of 2006. It has been a good coincidence; 5 years after the twin towers of WTC in New York crumbled, on the date, my neighbor has received a bundle of joy. Bundles, if you don't mind!

They have got twins! We do not talk about twin towers anymore. Yeah…We are talking about the twin babies. Two babies… They were born on September 11th… 911!



GAB: I wish had twins as well but genetically speaking, both sides of us husband and wife do not carry the genes. Congratulations to Azli and wife for the arrival of their 3rd and 4th children!

These are not their babies... it is meant for decorative purpose only!

It May Happen To Anyone

Plenty of embarrassing moments happened to us during our lifetime. One or two of the occurrences would make us smile when thinking about it even after years passed. Whereas some of the incidence, we may just lock them up deep in our hearts not even our spouses know about it. Feasibly it is not so much of a secret as secret really is but it may sound too foolish to be shared with others. Trust me, after some time lapsed, we would then be able to relate to others and laugh over it.

It was in 1999. I was a senior staff with a public-listed company that had an office in Sun Complex in Bukit Bintang area. For Kuala Lumpur, that area or that building in particular is known for its unwholesome and rampant vice activities. Majority of the apartments above the office floors are used for that purposes. It is not uncommon if one has to cramp up and brush shoulders with the chicks in skimpily-clad outfits and pimps with a mundane looks in the elevator. Every now and then I had to succumb to the repulsion looks from the corner of their eyes suspecting me as an enforcement officer due to my haircut and body build.

Every time when people asked where my office was, it was kind of averse for me to say it out vociferously for having funny feeling that people may get wrong impressions out of its locale. And it’s very true! Some would have a second gaze at me while pondering up something before trying to hide their qualms and to steadily come up with words in continuance. Subtle and understated! Anyway, it was not so much of embarrassment to have had the office in that building but the unexpected incidence that did.

It was after a big meeting. I was checking on something on the computer at the side table to the right of my working table – close to the book rack. My working table was placed at one-third of the room width in that twenty-by-twenty dimension with plenty of space at the back before the 3-foot-high built-in cabinet – close to the wall. While at it, I was trying to recall the points to compare to what was on the screen and they were written in the notes that I had prepared the day before. They slipped off my mind.

.

I had a bad habit of piling up the documents, books and notes of current use on the floor before decided to have them filed or arranged by the secretary. The notes were lying on the floor.

.

I squat over to get my notes under a thin stack of paper files.

Praaaaaap!!! “Oh, Goodness… Gracious… What the…“. I knew it! I just knew it! That bloody old pants… It had already given me sign when I was out from the driver’s seat in the morning and now I had to pay the price for my ignorance. A whole wide gap of torn in my pants started inches below the fly, right up to the back part of it – more than a foot long. It was amazing that it opened so wide and it ensued almost all at once until I could feel the gush of cool air from the air-conditioner rushing in to my bottom. As quick as it ripped off, I stood up. Looking around not believing what have had happened. One idea after another came playing on my mind searching for a way to have it settled as discreet as possible.

The only possible tailor that I could think of at that moment was one at the ground floor of the building.

Now… the most awkward and uncomfortable walk of my life to sneak out of the room, get to the elevator and tiptoe my way to the tailor. I felt like a drug pusher carrying his commodities to pass through tight securities at the airport to execute from one step of the way to another. Tried my best not to let the staff noticed when I walked pass to the door, leaned as much as possible to the wall of the elevator and let others cleared before cautiously step out and inched my way to the tailor while having to pause every once in a while pretending checking something on my cell phone when people were passing by, made sure no one closer at my back. Need not to mention it has had exhausted a lot of muscles in the butts in efforts to keep it look as natural as possible.

Finally, I was at the tailor.

“Aiyya… Ini bukan tailor wooo… Sini jual butang saja maaa…. Itu sana jalan Federal Hotel wa ingat ada lo…”

“Ah So, sini tak boleh tolong jahit ke, mesin jahit ada tu… Tolong la!”

It was only a small shop. The shop was selling buttons, ribbons, threads and strings but not the tailor that I thought it was. After explaining my predicament and showed her what exactly looked like to my pants, she laughed and agreed to help me out. It was ridiculous for me to walk that far like she had suggested with the problem I was having.

I had to strip off my pants and that middle-aged Chinese lady made me hide behind a flimsy curtain in the corner of the room next to the altar with the deity. She passed me a steel chair to sit on while she was sewing the torn in my pants. We exchange words while she was at it with at times she couldn’t help it but giggling. I could only hear her voice.

An hour before I was in the conference room having high-talk with some big shots and now there I was, sitting on the cold steel chair behind the so-called curtain, half-naked, watching the hairs sticking out from the legs while the upper part of the body complete with the shirt and tie – feeling like an idiot.

I felt like the deity on the altar was comically smiling at me.

GAB: After all only that Ah So knew about it.

Just a Hiccup in the Office

We are in the virtual business. A part of our corporate direction is to build a sustainable content business for the country. You can consider us as a Content Provider, if you like. But only a fraction of it though.

In the past few months, we were accused of illegal spamming by the Mobile Operator. All our shortcodes for our Short Message System (SMS) services, totaling seven altogether had been blocked since late June 2006 pending investigation by Malaysian Communications and Multimedia Commissions (MCMC).

Our gateway provider, “X” Sdn Bhd has received notifications from Digi Telecommunications (Digi) saying that the reconnection of all shortcodes will depend on the investigation of MCMC. What more, Digi will continue to charge the monthly fees for all connections even though the connections are suspended. To add more insult, all revenues will be held permanently.

I was so furious over it when the gateway provider, “X” Sdn Bhd. putting the weight on us when the spamming accusation was forwarded by the Mobile Operator to them. Quickly I had our Network Engineer to get all the records in our database checked. We intend to compare data with X Sdn Bhd but they put it as obscured. I was mystified.

It is to me incomprehensible that only one out of three mobile operators seemed to have this problem with our contents. We don’t have problems with Maxis & Celcom. If we were to spam, we could’ve spammed all the mobile operators. I do suspect there is a technical glitch on our payment gateway provider, X Sdn Bhd but it is a little early to say things because we have to wait after our “ruler”, MCMC to do their job first.

As far as I am concerned, I am now in the middle of preparing all the necessary documentations to be ready for the OFFENSIVE mode instead of defensive. When the place is being marked as “X”, sure we mean business. Financial losses have been imminent, loosing a lot more is not a good option. The only choice we have now is to gain.

The owner of the legal firm we are in business with is now all smiling …



GAB: Funny… not a slightest of thought came to me when I was at home with my family

Leader of the Pack

The Prime Minister was coming to town. It was just a matter of days now.

Haji Malik. He was the busiest person in that kampong for having the responsibility to bring 20 busloads of supporters during the PM’s visit. Armed with cash provided by a disclosed source, it was rather easy for him to have it arranged. But, in a way it was not that easy either. For him to arrange buses was easier than having the target for number of people reached - 1000-strong. When you are in a stronghold of the opposition party, it is less glamorous even when you carry a title of Ketua Cawangan like him.

Haji Malik was a fighter though. Nothing could stop him when he had already mastered the skills to attract. It went unspoken; lunch and dinner would definitely be free. The real attraction was when the participations were rewarded with some pocket money. He also had a way of planting paid agents to persuade others to participate. These agents were paid with handsome amount of cash. If in the context of a structure in a corporate company, it was as good as a pay for a senior managers but of course it was not that so in Haji Malik’s organization.

Generally accepted principle is, when people are more than willing to participate even if there is no monetary rewards are given, those are the people with clear notions, and wise too. But when it is executed in such a manner, the right thing looks so wrong. The stinky thing is just swept under the carpet.

No fool. All buses were loaded with people. Off they went. This was the day that Haji Malik would firmly shake hands with his superior telling that he has done the job with cinch. Proven by 20-bus-loads of people to his credit. True enough, someone from Bahagian greeted him when he reached the place. He grinned from ear-to-ear when his "immediate boss” gave compliments and spoke highly of him in front of his people and others of the same rank as him from other areas.

The PM was scheduled to arrive in no time now but Haji Malik still had his hands full. He had to make sure the welfares for his people as promised were well taken care of. Being in a small or maybe messy organization like Haji Malik’s, the boss still has to do almost all the tasks. He was even still busy coordinating the last bus arrived to park safely when he was actually supposed to line up for the reception. If lucky he would be able to shake hands with the Prime Minister.

.

By the time the PM arrived, he rushed like crazy to the reception area but he was drowned in a crowd.

Nobody had even noticed he was not around in the line-up of important people to greet the PM…. Let alone to care!

.

.

.

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GAB: I am very sure Haji Malik would brag over shaking hands with the Prime Minister for days if he managed to be in time.

Wrapped In a Flag

True to the form as a patriotic person, I would feel almost sinful if I do not write a line or two to honor the coming national day. I allege myself to be a nationalist, patriotic and loyal to the country as much as it has to be as her citizen. The country has done a lot to me. I am in some way a product of its system. Without it, I won’t be who I am as I am today.

The patriotism in me did not come easy. I have gone through layers of process to understand the essentials of being opportune to belong to the soil. In my first year in overseas, I was told by my seniors that in the year before our batch arrived they sang the national anthem, Negaraku on the National Day. I laughed like hell thought it was only a fool to be such a drip. Only to value their patriotism after my rebellious years were over. When those years were over so then only I realized no more chance for me to sing it in the foreign land. What do you expect? I was in my heyday as a teenager at that time.

As the numbers and more numbers are added to my age, I could see more clearly the importance of appreciating the livelihood that we are enjoying today. Admire better the hardship and struggle of our forefathers in achieving the independence for the country. Without their efforts, in simple arithmetic it shall equate; we won’t have what we have now.

I am fortunate to have the opportunities to travel far and wide and to have lived in a few different countries. Seeing what I saw in the foreign lands, feeling what I felt anticipating being their citizen and running lives in their homeland as they are fated to be, I could never have felt luckier than being a Malaysian and live in it. In any standard you want to measure with, when you sum up all the points; our lives in Malaysia wins it hands down. Thus, it builds up more to my conscience to allow patriotism to be running in my blood.

It is imperative to note that, nothing soother than being under the flag of our beloved country. The flag itself signifies the pride of the nation and we are blessed to be under its shadow. Speaking of being under the flag, I would love to thrust further… make it wrapped in it. With this metamorphosis of slogan, it sounds a lot more of a grip as a citizen and it won’t be wandering off easily. And speaking of being wrapped in the flag, there is a story to literally define meaning of being wrapped in a flag. Perhaps this what actually is!

It is 2nd month of schooling for the pupils in Standard 1, majority of them are yet to celebrate their 7th birthdays. On that day, only one or two parents are still in the background for having the children still scared and insecured to be left alone in the classroom. In due time, they will be all on their own just like any other pupils.

Puan Rohani, the English teacher is introducing them strange sounds of language. Having had not attended preschools, all the pupils do not know what to expect, what more learning foreign language. Pupils comprehend based on what they heard and have no idea what they actually are. Don’t worry, in any time they’ll get hold of it.

Teacher Rohani: Ini kereta. This is a car
Pupils: Ini keghetaaa…. Dis is a ka

Puan Rohani realized the pupils just repeat after on whatever came out from her mouth and cuts off the initial words and goes…

Teacher Rohani: This is a car
Pupils: Dis is a ka
Teacher Rohani: Car… Kereta! Kereta… Car!
Pupils: Ka… Kegheta! Kegheta… Kaaa!
Teacher Rohani: This is a car
Pupils: Disss isss a kaaa…

Puan Rohani points her finger at the picture of a car… and said… Lagi!

Pupils: Disss isss a kaaa

It repeats and repeats. Even louder when the pupils are in rhythm with some of them say it out on top of their lungs even though some are just mumbling and some are just staring at point blank while some also are just busy twisting and turning around looking all over the places.

Teacher Rohani: This is a bird…
Pupils: Dis is a bw…der…erd

Puan Rohani introduces a picture of a bird and the pupils are trying to grasp the way it sounds and collectively comes out with strange sound as the pupils are not fully get it just yet. Strange as it sounds, even stranger when a pungent smell fills up the classroom now. Puan Rohani has been teaching for years, proven by the scars of experience in her face she refused to call it wrinkles. The experienced teacher like her can instantly recognize it.

She inspects all corners of the classroom to identify where the smell comes from and the pupils are reacting over it with mixed and varieties of responses. Bahar in the far right row screams followed with his kiddy kind of giggle. A few follow Bahar’s way of reacting. Ramli that sits next to Maimunah just simply put his two index fingers deep in the nostrills and makes a blow with the mouth closed until it distorts the look of his face and Suriani laughs at his distorted look. Nisah joins the laugh also. Amran is just looking on. He looks puzzled. May be he is being perplexed by the funny look of Ramli's face until it scares him a little. Ismail is self-inspecting himself and put up a worry look in the face but nothing happens. It is a relief to him after bending forward checking his own crotch for a few seconds. Hasni tries to lift up his collar to cover his nose with a few others imitate. Anuar points his finger at Azizah accusing her for something she did not do until she is about to burst into tears. He tries to do the same on Noraini and he retreats after she fashions a hostile look in a face for not being pleased with the accusation. Some even attempt to make an exit through the back door. One or two are pretending to be gasping for air and laugh. Some put up no reactions in their faces as if nothing happens, just like Hamidah, Syukri and Nordin at the back of the classroom. Anyway, all in all it is a noisy affair.

Finally, Puan Rohani asks the class to be quiet and all are ordered to stand up. All stands up except Yusof at the extreme right row three seats behind Bahar. He is about to cry knowing what he did but quickly Puan Rohani pampers him up with some nice words. Little time is wasted before the school gardener, Pak Mail is summoned to clean up the mess. Sure it is less than pleasant sight to see.

Obviously the pants also need cleaning and Pak Mail is at it, not his choice but he has to do it anyway. After all it is not his first. And there is another problem arises. No spare pants for Yusof. Pak Mail has to find solution quick. He has not much of a choice. So, while waiting for the pants hang on the fence to dry up in the sun, he has to make do with a Malaysian flag to wrap Yusof in from the waist below. That is the only clothe available in his store room apart from worn-out towel used for other cleaning purposes and his “Good Morning” towel wrapped around his neck almost all the time.

Everything is subdued. Back to order. Yusof is back in the classroom just in the nick of time before the class resumes.

Puan Rohani continues teaching…

Teacher Rohani: This is a bird
Pupils: Dis is a beedd
Teacher Rohani: Bird… Burung! Burung… Bird
Pupils: Beedd…. Bughong! Bughong… Beedd!
Teacher Rohani: Once again… Lagi sekali… Louder… kuat-kuattt!
Pupils: Beedd…. Bughonggg! Bughong… Beedddd!
Teacher Rohani: Very good… Bagus… OK… Hamidah…Hamidahhhh… burung…. apa?
Hamidah: Bughong Merpati
Pupils: Hahahaha

Puan Rohani smiles because the picture of the bird can fairly be recognized as a pigeon.

Teacher Rohani: No… No… No… Tak… Burung… What is in English? Apa sebut dalam Bahasa Inggeris? Ikut cikgu…. Biiiird!
Hamidah: Bd!

Short. She swallows her word and looks very uneasy. Puan Rohani decides not to press more on her knowing that at any time now, she would be crying.

Teacher Rohani: OK Class… Say it louder… Sebut kuat-kuat! This is a biiird!
Pupils: Disss isss a beeeddd

It echoes cross the lush greenery of rice field and it is nice to hear from a distance.

Being a small kid Yusof just cannot sit still. While sitting, he moves all the time. Toss to the left, hurl to the right, turn to the back… twisting… spinning…until the flag that wraps him in becomes loose and left him naked when he stands up.

It is very much to the amusement of his classmates seeing that. They laugh out loud when it happens.

Puan Rohani helps wrap him back.

Surely, Yusof’s own "bird" also enjoys the English lesson that day while he is being wrapped in a flag.

GAB: It happened in my classroom but I can assure you, Yusof wasn’t me hehehe

SELAMAT MENYAMBUT HARI KEBANGSAAN KE 49

You Watch and You Are Watched

People are around you. They are all strangers to you. They carry similar expressions in their faces. You will be lucky if you can have eye contacts for more than a second before either you or they look somewhere else. All seems to know where they are going, very distinct in their steps taken. Not much of conversations take place except when one is accompanied by another person or when they move in a group. People are walking at their own speed of choice. Some walk quite slow. Some are very fast as if their grandmothers are about to give birth at the hospital or something. Sometimes you have to make way for them when you are about to bump into each other. At one time or another; others have to make way for you as well. It is not uncommon if you have to brush shoulders with one another. Sometimes you may mistakenly touch people without their consents but you can get away with it with a simple excuse. If unlucky you may be stared at like a criminal when the other party thought it was too much. Or else you are being touched.

After a rule of a thumb is being observed, the oncoming and ongoing traffic of people just know which side of the way they are supposed to be at. Still, you have to judge the speed of a person walking in front of you as not to step on his or her heel. In turn, if you are too slow, other person at the back may step on your heel, or crash in the rear. It happens naturally as if it is being choreographed in such a manner until it works almost perfect.

The scenario above is a set of a sample depicts an experience when we are at a busy station getting off from a bus, commuter train or LRT.

In that kind of situation, I sometimes would get away from the exodus of people and choose to be standing in the less hectic corner watch people go by. While watching, I will be observing.

There was once at the Masjid Jamek LRT station when my eyes were stapled on a lady in the executive attire. She was busy on her cellphone and what caught my attention was; she looked well-composed. Good disposition and walking style. She looked so confident. She was quite good looking with shoulder length dyed copper-blonde hair and the height above the average of Asian ladies. I could tell she had a high taste judging from the YSL handbag she was carrying and the watch she was wearing looked classy and the shoes too. I am not too sure what brand the watch and shoes were because I was a few meters away when she passed by but I know they were expensive. Of course I cannot tell the difference between the original branded goods and close-to-ori counterfeit products of Petaling Street either. The ones who know how to dress up will minimize the make-ups and accessories used and even much elegant to go with simple pearl earrings on, and she was. Oh, did I tell you she sports green-colored contact lense as well, and... and the eye-lashes were so neat?

After finished her conversation over the phone, she put her cute little pink-colored cellphone back into the handbag. Her right hand was shoving the cellphone in while another hand taking care of the magnetic-lock fold of the handbag of which hanging on the left shoulder. While both hands were occupied, she sneezed. Achummm…! So cuuute!

I can swear I saw a bubbly slimy gooey thing came out from her nose when she sneezed. The slimy bubble ballooned up to a size bigger than a ping pong ball before it popped. As quick as the sneezing occurred, at a lightning speed her right hand came out from the handbag, split-second after releasing the cell phone in and wiped up the slimy bursting bubble just to mess it up further until to her cheek and it oozed out of her palm. Could you imagine how gross it looked?!

With a quick body twist to the left, she resigned herself to the wall of the tunnel that leading to Masjid Jamek side of the station. She tried to shield off from people’s view as much as possible by slouching the body position square to the wall and face pointing downward at 45-degree-angle for the hair to fall free around the cheeks. I guess the hair was also dirtied with the mucus. She then used tissue paper to clean up after a few long seconds scavenging through the handbag.

I felt so sorry for her but one thing I admired, she was able to maintain her composure.



GAB: Hehehe Accident happens and you think it’s funny but it is not!

Moments Before I Sat Down

This morning I had my breakfast at a restaurant on the ground floor of my office building. That is the closest place for me to eat. It is just some 20 meters away after coming out from the elevator. The walkway of the section for the restaurant is elevated by one foot high. It is nicely decorated with beautiful floral motive tiles for the floor that distinguished from other part of the walkway. Sometimes you feel guilty to pass through when people are eating at the place because it looks as if the area is exclusively belongs to the restaurant though it is meant for public access. There are some 5 tables placed on that walkway. Right... the food there is not that bad either.

When I reached the place, four tables out of five at the walkway have already been occupied by the customers. I was a bit baffled for a while seeing tables No. 1 referring from the far end until table no.4 were occupied by one customer each. All customers were seated at the same side and chair position of the tables facing the same direction from where I was coming. To add to my curiosity, table No 1 and 3 were men and tables No 2 and 4 were ladies, sweep-swap from one another. That left table No. 5, the most immediate table when I reached the place, yet to be occupied.

I was standing next to the table, and at the very instant, the usual me started calculating, analyzing and hypothesizing on what I saw. For no apparent reason, I started formulating a theory in my head to explain why it happened that way?!

This is what was running in my head moments before I sat down:

First to arrive – Customer Table No. 1:
The gentleman at the table No. 1 at the far end came in first. Considering that’s the best seat with commanding view, no doubt he chose to be seated there facing the open view and close to the railing for comfort. Table No. 5 facing the opposite direction is just as good also but the eyes cannot go as far as it is viewed from table No. 1. I would do the same thing also if I were to arrive earlier.

2nd to arrive – Customer Table No. 4:
She was a lady in a tight and short skirt, seated at table no 4. It was only right for her not to sit too close to the first guy since he was a stranger to her and not facing him. She could also was trying to avoid naughty eyes from the guy when she sits in. She chose table No. 4 instead of table No. 5 which was farther because the comfort level on the distance was already sufficient and not to be that obvious showing her insecurity. To be seated close to the railing comes naturally then. The railing is a catalyst for security just like a rostrum for a speaker to hold upon while giving speech. There she was seated, 3 tables away from the first gentleman.

3rd to arrive – Customer Table No. 3:
The next one who came in must be the guy that seated at table No. 3. It is obvious; this guy was a cheeky type. He chose to be right behind the lady taking advantage on seeing the beautiful curve of the lady at a close range from rear view. Seating position at table No. 5 facing opposite direction from the lady is better but I think he didn’t want to make the lady feel intimidated.

4th to arrive – Customer Table No. 2:
This lady perhaps cared less on where to be seated. The most immediate table available when coming from the other side of the building was table No. 2, so she sat there. It would've been better if she had chosen table No.5 instead of being flanked by the two guys. Anyway, may be she likes to be noticed by the guys. Quite naturally as well, she tried not to face the guy at table No. 1. Tried not to brush her back with the guy seated at table No. 3 might be a point also. And again, the railing provides such comfort and security. So then, there she was.

I then took my seat.

I sat diagonally to the sitting positions of them, away from the railing facing all four of them. Thought of facing the same direction as them but it was no fun, that damn pillar blocked my view. I tried to be as innocent as possible by acting just like not knowing what was around me making sure the sexy lady does not feel intimidated by my eyes stealing a look at her thighs. “Oh... Come on you guys, do not try to be that good by telling me that you’ve never steal a look at sexy ladies, especially during the time crosslegged lady in a short skirt is switching leg from one to another”. Urrp… ladies, just take it as a compliment, OK!... We do admire good and beautiful things!

To prove my point right, the sequence of them leaving the place was; the guy at table No.1, the lady at table no. 4, the guy at table no. 3 and lastly the lady at table No. 2.

I left after the lady paid her check only feeling stupid analyzing things for no apparent purpose.



GAB: The analytical mind cannot be stopped and it is NOT stupid, but to document it up in a blog, makes it closer to that. HAH... HAH... HAH...!