A decade

I'm more than a month late, but in this case it's better late than never, I suppose. Afterall, I consider my personal blog to be a place where current events and thought becomes precious records for my reference in the future. (Reminder to self: update backup!)

A couple of days before Hari Raya, my husband and I celebrated our tenth anniversary. A DECADE! Subhanallah ... Going into two digits feels like a significant milestone. And yet, it doesn't feel like ten years. It feels shorter, it feels longer, time just remains an elastic being, influenced by our thoughts and emotions.

I know I'm one lucky lady. Alhamdulillah. Thank you for bearing with my many weaknesses.

Semoga Allah merahmati dan memberkati kita. Semoga tautan hati ini membawa kita lebih dekat kepada-Nya!

An old photo from the album (still using the film roll camera). We were in our final year uni at this time, almost ten years ago.

Aku rindu

Tempat jatuh lagi kan dikenang.

Inikan pula tempat bermain.

Tempat mengenal diri.

Tempat bertemu jodoh.

Tapi, rindu aku bukan hanya pada tempat itu. Jika ada pun peluang untuk kembali ke sana, ia tidak kan sama.

Aku rindu pada zaman itu.

Melayan nostalgia seketika. Pantas sungguh waktu berlalu. Sudah lebih lapan tahun kami pulang ...


(Kredit gambar untuk www.conferencecambridge.com. Ini gambar kolej saya, iaitu Newnham College, sebuah kolej untuk pelajar perempuan sahaja, salah satu daripada 31 kolej di Cambridge University)

Balik kampung

Perjalanan pulang ke kampung beberapa hari sebelum hari raya tempoh hari (cerita basi rupanya) membawa saya mengimbau nostalgia perjalanan-perjalanan ‘balik kampung’ sewaktu saya kecil lebih daripada biasa. Dahulu, sebelum Lebuh Raya Pantai Timur dan Gombak-Karak siap dibina, perjalanan pulang ke Trengganu mengambil masa lebih lama kerana menggunakan jalan satu lane. Jika berhenti hanya sekali pun mengambil masa 8 jam, apatah lagi kami yang kerap berhenti. Waktu perjalanan 10 ke 12 jam itu memang biasa.

Walaupun saya suka balik kampung, tapi bab perjalanan itu saya ‘kurang’ gemar – I loved going back to Trengganu, but I didn’t look forward to the journeys. Salah satu sebabnya ialah, saya cepat pening-pening dan mual! I have tendencies to get motion sickness easily. Kadangkala saya menyimpan kulit limau untuk dihidu sewaktu perjalanan bagi mengurangkan rasa pening. Kami kerap berhenti sewaktu perjalanan – biasanya untuk bersolat, menggunakan bilik air dan makan, biasanya di Karak (teringat Masjid Jamek Karak, bagaimana keadaannya sekarang) dan Kemaman (teringat Restoran Zarina yang bertahan berpuluh tahun sehingga hari ini, cuma berpindah lokasi), singgah di rumah saudara-mara, dan kadangkala untuk berehlah (contohnya di Hutan Lipur Lentang, and di tepi pantai apabila sudah di timur sana). Sekarang, kita cuma kenal dengan R&R dan tidak lagi masjid atau restoran tempatan. Barangkali usahawan-usahawan kecil tempatan yang dahulunya mencari rezeki dengan adanya pengembara-pengembara seperti kami yang singgah di tempat mereka mengeluh apabila laluan kami sudah beralih ke lebuhraya.

Meskipun bernostalgia dengan kenangan lalu, yang sebenarnya, saya amat bersyukur waktu perjalanan kini dipendekkan dengan adanya lebuhraya. Tak sabar rasanya menunggu sambungan kepada LPT disiapkan lagi hingga ke Trengganu. Apabila saya rasa sukar berkelana dengan anak-anak (dan rasa pening sendiri), saya sering mengingatkan diri saya bahawa zaman ibu bapa saya dulu lebih mencabar dengan waktu perjalanan yang lebih panjang, jalan yang lebih kecil, dan kami adik-beradik yang lebih ramai dan bermacam ragam. Tetapi mereka gembira sahaja dan sentiasa cuba balik kampung sekerap yang boleh.

"Atakallamu Arabiyya?"

Di sebuah restoran berapa hari lepas, saya memberanikan diri menegur seorang muslimah dari Asia Barat.
“Min aina anti?”
“Min Libya,” jawabnya. Saya mengangguk.
“Can you speak Arabic?” Dia bertanya pula. Satu soalan yang saya cukup ingin menjawab‘Ya’ dengan yakin! Tapi seperti biasa, jawapan saya “Just a little”.
Atau jika ditanya dalam bahasa Arab “Atakallamu Arabiyya?”, maka jawapan saya “Qoliilan.” Sedikit.

Setelah belajar bahasa Arab selama lebih 20 tahun (formal atau tidak, berterusan atau terhenti), masih Qoliilan! Kini, ‘pelajaran’ bahasa Arab saya cuma menerusi siaran Radio Ikim, terutamanya siri Hayya bil Arabiyya yang ke udara jan 8.30 pagi setiap hari bekerja. Sesekali mendengar DJ Mona Jasman mengendalikan siaran atau membaca berita dalam bahasa Arab, saya cuba juga untuk memahamkannya. Dengan internet yang terbuka luas sebagai sumber ilmu, saya tiada alasan untuk tidak menambahkan lagi pengetahuan bahasa Arab saya. Cuma mahu atau tidak sahaja.

Namun, dengan kosa kata bahasa Arab terhad ini, dapat juga saya manfaatkan ketika berkembara di bumi Maghribi dahulu, Alhamdulillah. Boleh juga lah bertanya yang asas-asa, sekadar keperluan seorang ‘pelancong’. Tetapi tidak cukup untuk menemubual penduduk tempatan dengan lebih lanjut dan bertanya perkara-perkara yang lebih kompleks. Yang menariknya, bahasa Arab jugalah yang kami (saya dan suami) gunakan sewaktu berkunjung ke kota Paris! Ramai penduduk Muslim yang berasal dari negara-negara Afrika Utara (seperti Maghribi, Algeria, dan Tunisia) berhijrah ke Perancis kerana Perancislah yang telah menjajah mereka dahulu, sama seperti rakyat India dan Pakistan berhijrah ke UK. Dan soalan kegemaran kami “Aina l-mat’am halaal?” J (Di manakah restoran halal?)

Tiba-tiba saya teringatkan Hannan (apa khabar dia agaknya), seorang muslimah yang berasal dari negara Maghribi dan kini bekerja di UK, yang membuka kelas belajar bahasa Arab dengan suka rela untuk Muslim tempatan sewaktu di universiti dulu (kelas ini tiada kaitan dengan universiti). Kelas biasanya diadakan seminggu sekali pada hari Ahad selama satu jam, dan menggunakan buku Arabic Course for English-Speaking Students (Dr V. Abdur Rahim, penerbit UK Islamic Academy) sebagai panduan. Hannan menerima bayaran 1 pound seorang setiap kelas, dan hasil kutipan itu didermakannya kepada sebuah rumah anak yatim di Maghribi. Suatu hari kami berkunjung ke rumah Hannan selepas dia habis berpantang, menarik juga mendengar dia mengagah bayinya dalam bahasa Arab!

Saya ingin kongsikan sebuah jenaka yang diceritakan oleh Hannan dalam salah sebuah kelasnya.

A new teacher came into a class of pre-school students and started a taarruf (getting to know each other) session.
“What’s your name?” she asked the first girl.
“Kauthar,” she answered.
“Can you recite the Surah al-Kauthar?” the teacher asked.
She answered yes, and proceeded to recite Surah al-Kauthar.
At the corner, a boy starts to fidget.

The teacher asked a second boy, “What’s your name?”
“Ikhlas,” he answered.
“Can you recite the Surah al-Ikhlas?” the teacher asked.
He answered yes, and proceeded to recite Surah al-Ikhlas.
The boy at the corner fidgeted even more.

The teacher asked the boy at the corner, “What’s your name?”
“Ermm Fatihah,” he answered.
The whole class laughed.
His name is actually Yassin.

Saya tertarik dengan jenaka ini, kerana jarang sekali saya dengar jenaka ‘harmless’ yang sangat spesifik kepada Islam.

Remembering 55CC

Occasionally I reminisce about my 4-year stay in the UK years ago - in solitude usually, or with MHH sometimes, but this time I feel like sharing in my blog, do bear with me. I’m remembering 55CC, short for 55 Cliveden Close, the house we rented in our final year in Cambridge. This was brought about by a combination of Mommy Lyna’s post on renting houses to target occupants (which was actually dated months ago) and an announcement I came across on a college university building a campus in Semenyih (and I remember thinking that it would be a good investment to buy a house in Semenyih to be rented out to students because there’s a number of campuses there and looks like there’s more to come). By the way, I like to trace my trail of thoughts this way.

Anyway, back to 55CC, most colleges at my uni guarantee accommodation in the first three (or at least two) years, but usually students are requested to find their accommodation outside in the fourth year, especially if the colleges are facing shortage of rooms. Sometimes the college can still provide rooms, but it’s the students themselves who choose to be more independent and looked for a place elsewhere with their own gang. My gang, came together naturally – me, A, L, and N. After the usual search and hunt, we shortlisted the houses down to two. A was away in the USA for a student exchange program, and L had to fly back to Malaysia because an aunt passed away, so I looked at the 2 houses with N, and preferred 55CC to the other one. We were quite amused when the owner, a Mr Fesharaki hold an interview with N and myself. He was also interviewing several other interested groups. The questions were easy. Do you smoke? Do you have late-night noisy parties? Mr Fesharaki chose us as his tenants.

55CC in winter
55CC is a double storey terrace house, but it’s not as big as the ones in Malaysia. I estimate the build-up area to be less than 1000 square feet. The rent was 900 pounds per month for a 12 months lease. 900 pounds is pretty expensive, but we didn’t really have much choice, that was the market rate for Cambridge. The house has 4 rooms, with the fourth being the only bedroom downstairs which was converted from a garage. It wasn’t difficult to choose rooms, because I wanted the smallest, N wanted the warmest, and L and A, well they didn’t really mind. How did we divide the rents? We sat down and each wrote a suggested rent (which I believe was all reasonable amounts) for each of the four rooms, compute the averages, and rounded them up. The house was furnished, each rooms came with a bed, a cupboard, and a desk. There was a sofa set, dining table, and tv, and the kitchen was fitted with a stove and washing machine. The living room saw many nights of watching Blockbuster videos, playing Uno and cho tai ti, ordering halal Flying Pizza, holding parties (jamuan), even majlis tahlil.

Other than sharing the rented house, the four of us also bought a car. The Nissan Sunny was as old as ourselves then, and costed us 400 pounds, or 100 pounds each. 100 pounds can buy a brand new bicycle, which is the main transport around Cambridge, especially for students. We still cycled to lectures because there’s no parking available for students at all, and we had different schedules. The car was used mainly to do grocery shopping in the weekends and to go to Arabic classes or other talks outside the city centre.

This entry is dedicated to A, L, and N (although only A reads my blog occasionally). To ten years of friendship - and more to come, insyaAllah ;)

Sandwiches for books

Some seven or eight years ago during uni days, a group of us did a little charity project – we sold sandwiches and the profits were used to buy books for orphanages. The girls would get together, usually at B’s room, on Thursday nights to prepare the sandwiches. Each of us would do one task. The manufacturing line would begin with B slicing the chicken breasts, which she had marinated and roasted earlier. Next, another one of us would butter the bread, another would cut the salad, another would assemble the ingredients and finally one of us would pack the sandwiches in pairs in clingwrap films before arranging them in a box. I had enjoyed those sessions, because while our hands were busy working, we would be chatting away and catching up.

The next day we would take the sandwiches to the Jumu’ah prayer (solat Jumaat) in the Bowett Room. Over there, it’s very common for ladies to attend Jumu’ah prayer. The khutbah was usually delivered by the university’s appointed Muslim Chaplain, whom we called Maulana. Occasionally, Syeikh Abdul Hakim Murad, or Tim Winter, would also give the khutbah. The khutbahs were usually topical and excellent reminders to us all. Throughout the Jumu’ahs, I’ve seen one guy and one lady (not related to each other and in separate occasions) who first came as observers. They would sit by the side, listening to the khutbahs, and then watching people pray. After months perhaps, they joined the saf! Subhanallah walhamdulillah..

But I’m digressing. I was talking about sandwiches, wasn’t I? After the khutbah and solat, we would pass bulk of the sandwiches to the boys, MHH (then friend) and M, who would sell them to the brothers at 1 pound per sandwich pair. That’s considered cheap, because at the same price you would only get an egg sandwich in a shop. A chicken sandwich (yes, there are halal chicken sandwiches in certain shops there) would cost nearer to 2 pounds, 1.85 maybe. Each week we made about 60-70 sandwiches (if I remember correctly), and they sold out all the time. “Tell the sisters this sandwich is delicious! MasyaAllah.” We just giggled and hesitated to take the compliment – because the tandoori paste we used was straight from the bottle! The profits we made were used to purchase second hand books from charity shops and car boot sales. As I once mentioned, they were really cheap – a Ladybird book cost only around 10-50 pence, depending on the conditions. So we shipped quite a few boxes over to this side of the world.

Today, it’s no longer sandwiches – it’s SimpliSiti’s apparels. 20% of all profits from cash sales from 1 July to 25 July will be used to buy books for the AnNajjah boys (we first visited them in April). They are going to have a one day event (open to public) on the 26th of July to mark their second anniversary, and there will be various activities including health checks and sales of souvenir, food etc. The batik paintings will be on sale, too. (Mardhiah12, you are interested right? Here’s your chance!). I will update more details later when I receive the information. I’ve asked the secretary if I could set up a stall and she said yes. So, I’m seriously considering setting up a SimpliSiti booth there and I will give 50% of all profits made on that day to them. My only qualm is that I don’t want to stay there the whole day from 8 to 5! (Apalah punya usahawan wannabe ni, macam malas berusaha je… hehe) Hmm… maybe I could ask the boys to take turn manning the stall.. If you have some old (but still in good condition) books you’d like to donate, you are welcomed to do so through me. FYI, AnNajjah boys are between 7 to 17 years old. It’ll be really good to get some tafseers, dictionaries, board games etc. This book collection drive is part of our surau initiative. And, as I put in the notice: The reason why we are doing this is help foster the love of learning and knowledge, and the culture of reading. You’ve probably heard the famous maxim - If you give a man a fish, he will eat for one day. But if you teach him to fish, he will eat for many more days of his life. This will be an amal jariah for us, InsyaAllah.

Robocon

Last weekend, we had a chance to drop by to see the quarter finals of the Robocon 2008 because it was held very near our home. It wasn't as exciting as the ones we've watched in 2005 and 2006, but it was fun nevertheless. Robocon is part of Robofest (Robot Festival), an annual event happening in Asia Pacific countries. It is a contest to design and construct robots that can perform certain task based on theme and rules. The host gets to lay out the task and rules. In the year Malaysia hosted Robocon back in 2006, the task is to build a twin tower, surprise surprise. The teams invited to participate are from local universities and colleges. I'd like to see the organiser open the contest to anyone who'd like to join - from schools or even as independents. But I suppose funds would be an issue. I've mentioned this before, but I'd like to see something like this as some sort of reality show. Something like the Nescafe Kickstart variety, but with building robots/machines or 'solving problems' generally as the contest.

The Robocon reminds me of a project we did in our second year uni. We had to build a robot that can sort 'black boxes' containing open circuits, short circuits, resistors, capacitors and transistors into designated containers. Each team comprised of 3 pairs, each pair took care of the mechanical bit, electronics bit, and programming bit. My team's robot could sort the black boxes, but failed to navigate around the arena because of poor programming. But what I remember most is the marker's remarks on my report - "This is not necessary" (or something to that effect) referring to the part where I had expressed disappointment on the non-success of the robot. I felt so silly - it's a report for goodness sake, not a diary! Is it a wonder why my dad thinks my car logbook should be titled 'Aku Sebuah Kereta?' Maybe I should start writing short stories instead on technical reports, hehe..

Nostalgia Ramadhan di Perantauan

Meskipun telah agak lama kembali ke tanahair, sesekali saya suka mengenangkan kembali kisah-kisah lama waktu belajar di UK. Dan kali ini, bersempena bulan Ramadhan yang mulia ini, rasa teringin pula nak berkongsi cerita berRamadhan di sana (harap kalian tidak kisah!).

Waktu saya di sana, Ramadhan jatuh pada musim sejuk. Jadi siangnya pendek, sahur selewat 6.30 pagi dan berbuka seawal 3.30 petang! Tambah pula, tak terasa begitu dahaga berbanding di Malaysia sebab cuaca pun sejuk. Bagaimanalah agaknya berpuasa di musim panas, bila waktu Subuhnya jam 3 pagi dan Maghribnya 10 malam? Pasti mencabar! Di musim sejuk, waktu berbuka yang awal kebiasaannya tiba waktu masih dalam bilik kuliah atau dalam lab. Cukup sekadar berbekalkan air masak, buah tamar, dan kadangkala sekeping coklat. Kalau tiada kelas sekali pun, memang kami biasa cuma berbuka ringan dahulu, dan kemudian barulah mula memasak.

Budaya iftar jauh lebih meriah berbanding di Malaysia. Bukan meriah dari segi makanannya, tapi dari aspek sosialnya (ukhuwwah). Ganjaran menjamu orang berbuka tidak dilupa di samping ibadah-ibadah lain. Komuniti tempatan (termasuk kedai dan restoran milik Muslim) memang memberi sumbangan untuk Masjid Abu Bakar (rumah teres dua tingkat yang diubahsuai) menyediakan juadah berbuka setiap hari. Sekali-sekala saya pergi berbuka di masjid; nasi beriyani bertambah lazat bila berbuka bertemankan kenalan-kenalan baru dan lama. Di samping bergilir di kalangan komuniti pelajar Melayu Malaysia (yang tidak begitu ramai di situ), University Islamic Society juga menganjurkan majlis iftar, dan saya juga berpeluang dijemput ke rumah beberapa sahabat local Muslims. Memang seronok! Bila sesekali berbuka sendirian, terasalah sunyinya.

Highlight pastilah solat tarawih di malam harinya. Solat tarawih di sana santai dan relaks sekali; biasanya mengambil masa dalam dua ke tiga jam. Ada dua pilihan, sama ada bersolat di Masjid Abu Bakar bersama komuniti Muslim tempatan, atau di sebuah bilik luas yang disediakan oleh University Islamic Society bersama komuniti pelajar universiti. Kebiasaanya saya memilih yang kemudian, kerana tempatnya yang lebih dekat dengan bilik asrama saya, hanya beberapa minit berjalan kaki, tidak perlu mengayuh basikal. Tarawihnya 20 rakaat, satu juzu’ setiap malam, dengan rehat seketika selepas 10 rakaat, lengkap dengan sedikit biskut dan minuman. Alas kami cadar putih yang bersih, dan tiada tirai pemisah antara saf lelaki dan perempuan, cuma sekadar jarak yang sedikit jauh. Imamnya bergilir-gilir, terdiri daripada kalangan pelajar-pelajar sendiri – teringat bacaan Hisham dari Palestin yang sungguh merdu, Zilani kelahiran bumi England berdarah Pakistan dan seorang hafiz, dan wakil pelajar Malaysia juga ada Alhamdulillah, dan lain-lain lagi. Waktu mula-mula dulu, saya sangkakan semua imam hafiz, tapi kemudian barulah saya tahu sebahagian daripada mereka memegang mushaf sewaktu bersolat. Oh, boleh rupanya! (begitu dangkalnya kefahaman saya). Selepas itu, saya juga turut memegang mushaf (terjemahan) sekali-sekala untuk membaca terjemahan sambil mendengar bacaan imam. Sesekali, saya berkunjung juga ke Masjid Abu Bakar, untuk menikmati alunan merdu bacaan Syeikh Abdur Razak yang didatangkan dari Tanah Suci.

Di bumi yang dihuni ramai penghijrah ini, perbezaan antara mazhab biasa menjadi isu. Namun, saya melihat masyarakat tempatan semakin mula menghormati prinsip khilaf dan belajar untuk bertolak ansur. Sebagai contoh, solat witir. Ada yang mahu mengerjakan tiga rakaat dengan satu salam, dan ada pula dua salam. Penyelesaiannya, imam akan tahiyat lama sedikit untuk sesiapa yang ingin menyempurnakan salam dahulu sebelum bangkit kembali dan turut bersama imam dalam rakaat ketiga. Imam juga akan berdiri lebih lama sewaktu i’tidal dalam rakaat ketiga untuk memberi para makmum pilihan sama ada untuk membaca doa qunut atau pun tidak (dalam separuh Ramadhan kedua).

Itulah sebahagian kisah lima Ramadhan yang lalu. Sometimes, the memory seems so vivid, I can almost imagine the night walks to the Quiet Room, the cold breeze on my cheeks. Alhamdulillah, thank you Allah for the experience and memory…

Ice-breaker, kenalan baru dan car boot sale

Babies and toddlers are great ice-breakers! It works both ways; people smile and talk to me (after cooing Munief, of course) more easily, and I also approach people more confidently because I know comments like “Your baby is so cute!” can't be unwelcomed. For someone who is shy and reserved like me (malu yang kadangkala tak bertempat), this is something I appreciate very much.

Last Friday morning, when I was taking a walk with Munief, a routine when we are in Nibong Tebal, we came across a neighbour who’s vacuuming her car a few streets away. Suddenly, her toddler appeared besides the car, and to cut the story short, the kakak and I began talking (the usual ta’arruf), and Munief and Diana (the kakak’s daughter, who’s only one month older than Munief) started playing together (if you can consider tolak-tolak and kejar-kejar as playing). It didn’t take long for Kak Ain to invite us in. She took out a big box of toys and Munief sure had fun trying most of them out. Cerita punya cerita, rupa-rupanya Kak Ain and family just got back from the UK less than a year ago. For six years they had stayed in Newcastle, Sheffield, and Southompton while her husband Dr Dahaman completed his Masters, PhD, and then worked as a designer engineer for a few years. Although I’ve been back in Malaysia for 4 years, but memories of the good life and experience in the UK still left a strong impression on me, so we naturally exchanged UK stories.

One of the things we agreed upon is that food (groceries) is cheap over there. It’s also easy to get cheap stuffs from car boot sale, if you don’t mind secondhand things, which most of us don’t (in my experience) with the exceptions of several types of things for example crockery (sebab kena samak dulu), because the quality is still very good and the price is usually very cheap. Imagine buying a Ladybird storybook for 20p each, and a box of Lego at 1 pound. Kalau kat sini, hmmm tak taulah, belum berani nak masuk Toys’r Us lagi, boleh terkejut tengok harganya barangkali. Kak Ain said she bought a lot of toys, and had even distributed a lot to her adik-beradik and nephews and nieces. A friend of hers, she said, bought so much toys from the car boot sale – it almost took up one container. It turned out she was opening a nursery/kindergarten here in Malaysia. On hindsight, I probably should have bought more toys and books (reminder to self: ‘should have’ is not a good term to use!). Although I was already married in the final year I was there, I wasn’t in ‘the family way’ yet, and somehow my imagination didn’t stretch much into the future tch tch.

Munief and I left Kak Ain’s house a good hour afterwards; Munief hungry for his mid-morning milk and his Ummi pleased to have made a new friend. The conversation, however, did make me ask the question: why don’t we have car boot sales ‘culture’ in Malaysia (as compared to the UK)? Or more generally, used items market (their Ebay is a wonder too). If I’m not mistaken there have been attempts to create a similar market, but they weren’t as successful. Of course, there are individuals who do have ‘garage sales’ when moving out, or a mum advertising a used stroller in an online forum etc but it’s still very small, I think. The following are some of my theories:

• Families in the UK tend to have smaller number of children, perhaps one, two or three. So, a lot of things are only needed for a short period of time. In Malaysia however, the average number of children is higher. Clothes, toys, and books are handed down for many years.


• Space is much more of a constraint in the UK compared to Malaysia. When things are not needed anymore, families in the UK really have to get rid of them, and one of the ways is to sell them off. In Malaysia, we can still afford to have some storage space, and some things stays there for many years until they’re needed again. My son is playing with some of the same toys that I had played with when I was his age! (Thanks to dearest Mok)


• And the reason that those things keep for many years is the high quality. Secondhand things in the UK have values because they’re still in good conditions. In Malaysia, most things (that average people can afford lah, let’s not talk about the super expensive high quality toys) have shorter lifespan. So, it’s usually the case of ‘pakai habis’ or ‘pakai buang’ here.


• Families in Malaysia are closer to their extended relatives. So, if one feels like some items are still good but not needed anymore, one is more prone to giving it away to relatives (could be cousins, second cousins, auntie’s in-law’s and what-not) and friends who could use them.


• Buying power in Malaysia is lower (on average) compared to the UK, where families have more disposable income. Fancy the latest sofa design? Just buy it. And then sell the old one cheap. In Malaysia, I believe we tend to use our stuffs till they’re broken or got really worn out. In a way, this is good, because it implies we have lower level of consumerism culture.

Dreams

Do you believe in dreams? Of all the people in the world, I recently dreamt about G, someone who used to ‘torment’ me in my previous department. I dreamt that G would be joining my current outfit. If you know my experience with G, then you’ll know that it’s not merely a dream - it’s a nightmare! G is the kind of people who likes to micro-manage. He would peer over my shoulder (not literally) checking if the things I do were correct. Ask for status report every few days. I couldn’t blame him though; he’s very adamant about getting his projects perfectly on course, and I admit, I did ask for deadline extensions occasionally. He’d made a perfect subordinate because he’s sure to get the job done on time and all right, but he made a difficult boss, well, precisely because he expects people to get all jobs done on time and all right. All these pressure, merely months after I started working, had stressed me, and I was always thinking of out. (Alhamdulillah, I have since moved to a new department, where both the work and environment tremendously improved.) G is supposed to be a ghost from the past, so what’s he doing haunting me today?

From some of the excerpts I found online, the ulama’ are unanimous in categorizing the type of dreams. The first type is from Allah, of visions of good tidings or warnings etc, the second is from the syaitan (mimpi sebagai mainan tidur?), and the third is manifestation of our own consciousness. The first type is quite rare, I believe. The second happens more often, but I think that the third is the most common type of dreams. It could be as straightforward as repeating events that you have experienced, or perhaps a reflection of your fears and hopes, subconscious or otherwise, sometimes direct, and at other times symbolical. I’ve read somewhere that one of the ways to further understand your own self is by ‘analysing’ your dreams.

Have you ever felt like you could control (some of) your dreams? I occasionally do, like last night, when I decide to dine out with MDH before we go somewhere I can’t remember. We were still strolling past a row of restaurants trying to decide which one to enter, when my son woke me up with his “Nak!” (minta susu). Some dreams are relatively generic, like the one where you fall and fall. But I very rarely get that; the one I usually get is the dream of being chased by bad guys. And suddenly I could leap up one-storey and tear up a car-roof. A reflection of worry and insecurity over something? Maybe. The kind of dreams that annoys me most is the restless one, where a short scene or more often ‘a sentence’ keeps repeating until I’m sick of it, but somehow I couldn’t make it stop. An example of this is, “I should’ve check with person A before deciding to do B.” Just that. Over and over. Regret? Likely.

Many years ago, I dreamt that I got an offer letter to continue my tertiary studies at University C. To understand the context, let me explain that it was absolutely crucial for me at that time to get into University C, because my sponsor, strained by the economic recession which had affected so many other people at that time, had informed us, that unless we got into University C or D, we can forget their earlier promised overseas degree and instead study at T@ylors or Sunw@y. Alhamdulillah, the very next day, I received the real offer letter. Rather than a ‘vision of good tiding’, I believe that the dream happened as a manifestation of my desperate hope.

In another dream story, also many years ago, a friend J who was close to me at that time, told me of her dream. She dreamt that she was taking a train to heaven, but when she arrived, the gatekeeper or conductor or someone there didn’t let her in, and told her that she was in the wrong train. You see, she is a Christian who had recently converted from Buddhism. Needless to say, I was struck by what the dream implied. I remarked to her, “J, maybe you ARE in the wrong train” but stopped short of elaborating.

So, what about G then? I believe that my subconscious is trying to alert me about something which I actually know of, but have been trying to avoid facing. That I’ve been slacking in my current job at work. That I’m becoming complacent. That if I don’t pull my acts together, G in another form may appear to apply the unwelcomed pressure.

Ouch!

Recently, forced by circumstances, my husband and I acquired a second car. We wished we didn’t have to, since we are both in agreement that, for something that depreciates rather quickly, cars are very expensive here in Malaysia. With the rising rate of interest for car loans, the recent price slash (though the word ‘slash’ is hardly accurate; ‘nick’ would be more apt!) is rendered almost negligible. And when was the last time you’ve heard of someone buying a car with cash?

So, I can’t help but to be reminded yet again on how high our cost of living is here. And when I say here, I’m comparing Malaysia to the UK, the only other country where I’ve stayed long enough to have a feel about these things. And before you begin dividing or multiplying figures by 6.5, stop and think again – that’s a rather unfair method of comparing cost of living. A more accurate way is to compare earnings against cost of living, because the general rule is: you earn in ringgit, you spend in ringgit. Unless of course, you are one of the lucky few who lives in Malaysia but got paid in US dollars or Euro.

Let’s take a fresh grad salary for instance: in Malaysia it’s RM2k/month (and even then, that’s on the high side, majority make less) and in the UK it’s also about GBP2k/month (and even so, that’s on the low side). I’ll begin with a car, since that’s what triggered my musing anyway. In the UK, a brand-new Mercedes starts from as low as GBP14k! Imagine – if you save up 1k each month (and that’s very possible, provided you haven’t started paying up a heavy mortgage), you’ll be able to buy a Mercedes cash in less than a year! Here? Don’t even dream – even the cheapest Kancil cost RM22k! What about food? A loaf of bread costs 50p (0.025% of 2k) vs RM3 (0.15% of 2k, 6 times more expensive!), a litre of milk costs 60p (0.03%) vs RM4 (0.2%, 7x), a storybook costs GBP7 (0.35%) vs RM30 (1.5%, 4.3x), a litre of petrol costs about GBP1 (0.05%) vs RM2 (0.1%, 2x) and so on and so forth. To be fair, not everything is cheaper in the UK. Human labour and services are especially pricey, hence locally produced good are usually more expensive than imported ones.

But back to where I begin, buying a car here is quite painful. Rarely can one find a reasonable 'affordable' car. Affordable is not anything as long as the installment is lower than one's income (nevermind if the loan is for 10 years and the installment eats up more than half your salary). I define 'affordable' as costing one years' gross income. A bit harsh maybe, but that my gutfeel. Wouldn't paying out 24% of your monthly salary over 5 years sounds better? (assuming 4% interest and minimal downpayment). So, be honest, what car can you afford?

Yet, why the rant? Do I wish to live in the UK where life is easier? No. I agree with the pepatah ‘Hujan batu di negeri sendiri, hujan emas di negeri orang, baik lagi negeri sendiri.’ Why the rant? We are indeed better off than certain other parts of the world for example Palestine, where life is not about getting by but about survival. Truly, I’m ever grateful to Allah for the abundant rezeki He has bestowed. It’s just that I feel annoyed when we are told that we live in one of the cheapest place in the world (yes if you earn in USD or Euro) or that the nation's economics is prosperous (to who?) or that our life is better now than before (at what cost?) or that our buying power has increased (yeah right). In short, don’t take propagandas for granted, especially if it has direct impact on our everyday lives. Awareness and knowledge will make a difference.

But my thoughts has led me to dangerous places – I really do not crave for an easy and comfortable life as much as I crave for Allah’s pleasure. It’s just that – I wish I can quit my job and stay at home to take care of my baby without thinking so much about the financial implications. Ya Allah, jauhkanlah aku daripada bersifat hubbud-dunia…