| Wednesday, 9 July 2008 |
| A time to be silly |
****I am having so much fun reading all your contributions! Thank you! Still too busy to update but not too busy to read your comments and contributions to list of names parents give their children.*****
So, we now know why Nicole Kidman named her baby Sunday Rose - her father was inspired by artist Sidney Nolan's muse Sunday Reed. So, no more speculations or jokes about it, OK? Well, not until she goes to school and starts having to fill in forms and what nots. Can you imagine telling people, Hi, I am Sunday Rose.
Anyway, this name reminds me of a friend who is no longer with us. We were in the office one afternoon when I heard him arguing with someone on the phone.
He received a call from someone who said he was Rabu. I then heard him say "I am Khamis" as he was indeed Khamis Ahmad, a Berita Harian journalist based in Penang. Rabu apparently thought that Khamis was pulling his leg and was slighted. So, that is just one problem Sunday might encounter.
Do parents really think when they name their children? A neighbour decided to name her son Sirhan after the assasinator and a cousin named his child Hospi because that's his only child born in the hospital.
Well, another one before I go back to my work.
Was telling someone about how in Terengganuspeak, words ending with n, are always pronounced with ng - as in makang, ikang, etc. Apparently the sultans of both Terenggangu and Kedah (this is a long time ago) had a bet and the one who loses will lose the G. Kedah lost and thus we have kucin, anjin, kunin, etc.
But this friend narrated another hilarious story about how the Portuguese changed their mind about conquering Kedah. After they had taken over Malacca, they set their sights on Kedah and sent several spies to do some intelligence work. The report they received wasn't very good.
"It was easy to take over Malacca. They had only Hang Tuah, Hang Jebat, Hang Lekir Hang Lekiu and Hang Kasturi. In Kedah, they have thousands of Hangs!!
Hang Loklak, Hang Bodoh, Hang Samseng, Hang Tak Senonoh...etc!
OK, OK! I promise to come back with a more serious story soon!Labels: nicknames, trivia |
posted by Kak Teh @ 11:06 AM   |
|
|
|
| Thursday, 3 July 2008 |
| A Tragic End...for DS |
I give up. I was hoping that Dang Sarat and her dalliance with a leader of a state and her hocus pocus would lure more readers to my blog. But I was wrong – I simply can’t compete with other blogs with more explosive issues and more revealing ends (pun certainly intended).
So it is DS as I refer to Dang Sarat in my work versus SD. And I can’t win, Even as I am typing this, another sms came in about another explosive and damning revelation. DS, about more than a century old can’t afford to compete with real time stories.
But on reflection, and I am not saying that whatever is flying around in the blogs and media; accusations and counter accusations, are true, but there are certain things which I realise, never changed.
In most scandals, there’s always the femme fatale, the monstrous feminine lurking somewhere to make an appearance. And in the case of Syair DS it is the eponymous character herself.
DS was actually an ex-employee of a Singapore ruler. ( Am not drawing any parallels here!) She was in fact recommended to work for the Sultan because of her obvious skills and abilities in certain areas, but she took it upon herself to do more than that. She wanted to get closer to the Sultan. And this, as I had mentioned before, was through the use of hocus pocus.
The dalliance between employer and employee went on for quite sometime under the very eyes of the officials and of course the wife. Now, tell me, which wife could tahan the frolickings right under her nose? The wife here, who happened to be the Queen of Patani, had been so patient and even allowed the establishment of another residence for the other woman. While her own maids smirked and laughed openly at DS’s antics, the Queen, or sometimes known as the Peracau, merely turned away when she saw the other woman with the ugly oversized chastity belt, who at times, demanded her husband to piggyback her. What an ugly sight! But one day, she couldn’t stand it no more and gave these orders:
Menengar sembah segala menteri - wajah bertambah manis berseri
lalu bertitah raja pis[t]ari - ‘Memanda bendahara pergilah sendiri
Dengan segera suruh dikerjakan - Dang Sarat itu PACAK SULAKAN. (OUCH!!!!).
[When [she] heard what the ministers said, - her face became increasingly sweet and shining
then the illustrious Queen said: - 'Please Prime Minister go
and order that the following be done immediately: - Dang Sarat [must] be IMPALED.
And she said all these with a smile!
Many commenters wanted to know what happened to DS – and I can reveal now that her once pride and joy was cut, she was sula’ed – impaled with a rod pushed through her end – a tragic end one might say.
The Sultan then sailed back to his state, with the oversized chastity belt and DS’s hair hanging from the masthead of his boat.
There – I will put DS to rest – for now.
PS - femme fatales come in many different forms. And so do tragic ends.Labels: syair |
| posted by Kak Teh @ 2:05 PM |
|
|
|
| Sunday, 29 June 2008 |
| The Debut of Dang Sarat in Liverpool |
…on 21st June 2008, to be exact.
Some said she had a very good singing voice and that she was a fine perfomer. Some said she was just very good at what she was doing; delegating work, a mine of information and a shrewd leader of those under her wings. But most agree that she was not much to look at and in fact lived up to her name – the over laden maiden. And to make it worse, she suffered a kind of skin condition that made her look quite unsightly. Bidasari she certainly wasn’t.
However, the former employee of the Singapore ruler knew how to transform herself into a real beauty - if only in the eyes of those who mattered. And this she did by befriending those dark forces from the other world and summoning their help during the bleakest nights when she yearned for the warmth of his body next to hers. On nights like this the owlet would appear on his rooftop, as if calling out his name and to beckon him over and leave his unsuspecting wife in their comfortable boudoir.
Once the king fell victim to her black magic, he could see no wrong in anything she did. Not with her blotched skin, nor her demands for an oversized chastity belt.
That is Dang Sarat or Dayang Dang Sarat, although some had suggested she is Dang Sirat or Serat, depending on how you read the old Jawi text in the early 19th century manuscript. But it matters not as the lady in question, the femme fatale and monstrous feminine is the same one that not only destroyed the union of a loving couple but also that of two nations; Patani and Johor.
I was introduced to Dang Sarat, the eponymous character of this early 19th century syair in 2005. The manuscript, bought from John Crawfurd in 1824, has been in the safekeeping of the British Library and is still in pristine condition, in beautiful handwritten Jawi script by one or possibly more scribes from the days gone by. Trawling through the Syair was to say the least a most painstaking experience, especially for one who was not competent in the reading of Jawi scripts. But one had to learn the hard way, and throughout the journey on the number 7 to and from the uni, the character and the story of Dang Sarat unfolded before my eyes, but of course not without a lot of help from the likes of Wilkinson and Winstedt and my Sifu.
To say that I was consumed by Dang Sarat and the beauty that lies in between the finely composed verses, was an understatement. I ate, slept, talked and thought in syair . I was overwhelmed by what my professor described as Keindahan erti dan erti keindahan – the meaning of which came through vividly in many scenes; especially the one of the king wooing his new bride, the longing for the beauty he had never set his eyes on, the shy young princess battling with understandable insecurities and apprehension and more.
Last weekend, at a conference in Liverpool. I finally introduced Dang Sarat to my audience of mostly scholars from the world of Traditional Malay Literature who came from far and wide. The experience was not unlike delivering a baby long overdue and all this while had waited for this moment within the chapters of my dissertation. The post conference euphoria was akin to post natal bliss – what pain?
I leave you this little beauty:
“Setelah jauh malamlah hari - tirai pelaminan dilabuhkan beri
duduklah baginda raja pis[t]ari - teralu suka membujuk isteri
dipeluk dicium seraya berkata - ‘Tuanku nyawaku emas juwita
Tuanku jadi cahaya mahkota - sudah termeterai di dalam cita
Berbagailah bujuk raja bangsawan - dipeluk dicium di dalam pangkuan
Peracau pun tunduk malu-maluan - sedap manis barang kelakuan
ayam berkokok pungguk merindu - baginda kedua masuk beradu
di dalam tirai kelambu beledu - ditunggui kanda Dang Raya Dadu
Setelah selang sudahlah hari - bangunlah baginda dua laki isteri
keluar dari peraduan memimpin jari - keduanya manis tiada berperi.
Alas, it has a very ugly ending. More later.Labels: syair |
| posted by Kak Teh @ 12:55 PM |
|
|
|
| Monday, 23 June 2008 |
| Signs of Hard Times |
I was on the 1518 from Liverpool to Euston when I got a call from my husband. He said he was walking back with 10kg of rice from our local grocer when he was stopped by the police. Oh no! I interjected. Then he proceeded to explain. Apparently there had been a fight down the road and police had sealed off the area. People were asked to turn back. A man was so angry with his girlfriend that he doused her with petrol and set her alight.
Thank God, I said, before I could bite my tongue. I thought the police had confiscated our rice!
I repeated the story to our son who met me at the station. He said: What a shame! What a waste of valuable petrol.
Yes, these are certainly signs that times are hard. |
| posted by Kak Teh @ 8:07 PM |
|
|
|
| Wednesday, 28 May 2008 |
| Will be back in a bit..... |
Salam all,
I have not totally disappeared from blogosphere but suffice to say, there's not enough hours in a day. Will be back in a bit - am off to Geneva and hopefully will come back reenergised, refreshed and relaxed. Insyaallah. Meanwhile, take care.
Kak Teh |
| posted by Kak Teh @ 10:34 AM |
|
|
|
| Thursday, 15 May 2008 |
| Don't be a mule or an ass |
Some time ago, I received a phone call from a lady telling me about her predicament. She had been working in a comfortable job in Malaysia for some time but was lured by her boss’ client to come back and work for him here in the UK, with a more lucrative offer, a comfortable life and of course the constant company of the man who made the offer.
She packed her bags and left. She worked and worked but payment was nowhere to be seen. He took her around, of course but her passport was always with him. And, yes, he has a wife.
A few months after repeated albeit empty promises about her pay, she decided to call anyone who could help her out of her predicament.
I listened to her and was quite stunned that a well spoken, intelligent woman could fall for such a promise. She wasn’t young, not like most of the mules who were doped into carrying drugs across the world and are now languishing in prisons abroad. Nor was she like those 20 young and attractive girls who said they answered adverts luring them to good jobs in London but later found themselves to be part of the sex trade coming from our part of the world.
She had actually known the guy for some time. Someone she counted as a close friend.
But it is the same story, isn’t it? The promise of a good life in greener pastures, the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
Don’t these people have alarm bells ringing in their heads when approached with such too good to be true offers? And don’t they discuss with friends and relatives and ask for their opinions? I just wonder.
Recently I met up with our new Foreign Minister and I can see that he is clearly serious about having some kind of regulations for travelling – especially those young ones. But I can also see that getting letters of consent is a bit too much. But I can understand that at the end of the day, it is the officials of his ministry that will have to bear the burden of visiting prisons, answering questions and dealing with pleas from desperate parents at home. That is what they are doing now with those banged up in prisons in Malta, Peru, Spain and China.
I don’t know what happened to the lady I mentioned above, but I suspect she was given a temporary travel document by our embassy to go home. The same happened to the 20 gullible young ladies who were duly deported. They discovered that their life of comfort translated into living in crammed accommodation with 20 others and luxury and excitement meant servicing 50 clients a week.
If I were to receive any offer which I thought would change my life, I would certainly have discussed it with my family. I would have asked their opinion. I would ask the advise of my close friends. The fact that certain transactions were done in a hush, hush manner, means that there’s something not right.
While many are doped into working for a bigger syndicate, which is always looking out for gullible people, some actually knew what they are doing. They took their chances, forgetting that the authorities are always one step ahead. It is not worth it, sayang – no matter what the offer. Try watching Banged up Abroad – a programme about people in foreign prisons who were caught with drugs in their possession. In my younger days I have covered too many court cases similar to these and they sure come up with very lame excuses.
Anyway, one of the 20 girls who were rounded up in brothels in and around London two years ago actually escaped and ran to Malaysia Hall. That was where she got help and was sent back. It was her story that helped the arrest of the ringleaders. Apparently, she was told by her boyfriend to come and work in London to repay her debts to him. What kind of a boyfriend would send his girl to the devil?
These are only tip of the iceberg – we only get to know about them when they are reported. What about others?
So, don’t be a mule or an ass. Be wise. |
| posted by Kak Teh @ 1:24 PM |
|
|
|
| Saturday, 10 May 2008 |
| Mother of an excuse |
We are planning a sisters get together, just for a few days but a precious few days for us. Kak Cik has already made her way to Geneva and she has already listed the places that we should visit. Lilah is packing her bags to make her way to London before we all troop off to meet her there. The last time Lilah was in London was in 1981, the year it snowed so heavily that Kensington Garden was like a fairyland. I remember that so well because she ventured off to the park with Oli while I was still in bed and both of them were stuck in the lift and we had to call the firemen to the rescue. We are all excited, of course and we have planned a thousand and one things. My Rehana will be joining us from Brussels where she will be attending a meeting and then when I leave them to come home because of some work commitments, Rehana will try to bring them to Paris for a whirlwind tour – a snapshot with Eiffel Tower in the background will do to show the folks back home. It is a pity that Kak can’t make it and Nisa has to stay at home to look after Mak. Yes, Mak. At the back of our minds, with all this planning, is Mak. We are all praying that she will continue to be in good health, no emergencies, no problems. All the while, although she is mostly with Nisa, my sister-in-law and Ajie, she spends the weekends and holidays with Lilah and also with Kak Cik. But everyone is nearby and would drop everything to be by her side, when necessary. But how do you tell Mak where and when you are going? For the last few years, our conversations with Mak are well scripted. All our infos must tally. They are not lies but we have to be economical with the truth. Because if Mak knows the real truth, then she starts fretting and finds excuses to go back to the house that Pak built for her. This reminds me of those days leaving the children behind for some non-work related sojourns. It was always with excuses of going to the hospital, the dentist, or work. The number of times I used the line going to the dentist, if they were true, would have left me toothless by now, but at that time it worked. I bet Mak used to do that on us when she had to go out for a breather. I remember her saying, “Mak nak pi tengok orang sakit. Mak nak pi doctor,” and we’d all be gullible enough to believe even though Mak was dressed in her finest to go for a hospital visit. And now we are playing the same game with her. Lilah is dreading that moment when she has to tell her why she would not be around for a few days, in fact for a few weeks. It will have to be a meeting, a course – Mak understands that a kursus would take a few days. And by now, she must be wondering why Kak Cik has not been making her morning appearances with her breakfast takeaways. Am sure Nisa and Ajie must have fobbed her off with some excuses, like ‘Kak Cik balik Pilah, ada kenduri,” repeated a number of times. I imagine her taking it all in with all the innocence of a child, and then she’d repeat the same question again fifteen minutes later. For all her forgetfulness, she knows when her offsprings are not around. When Mak was looking after arwah Tok, once in a while, she too needed a breather. Tok wasn’t an easy person to look after. But Mak endured her last few years patiently putting up with a Mother who used to be strong and independent and a perfectionist. So, when she needed a break, she’d make a visit to Pekan Rabu or Lorong Sempit to get some new materials for her baju kurung. That was her retail therapy. She needed this time away, even for a short while, to come back and be a better daughter to her mother. Sometimes, she needed a longer time away and would leave Tok in the care of Tok Som, but all the while in Kuala Lumpur where she visited her own children, she worried about Tok. When the time comes and Lilah tearfully says goodbye to Mak, and we all meet up in Geneva, Insyaallah, we know that for all the beautiful places that we will be visiting, we will have Mak in mind. We will look at the beautiful flowers in early summer and think of her because she loves flowers and gardens. We will feast our eyes on the intricate and fine crockeries in the shop windows and remember how she lovingly kept her collection. We’d sit around eating and joking and all the while each of us will be missing her presence. Mak always sits quietly, watching us banter at the dinner table, and all the while happy that her children were around. Mak may not know that there is a day dedicated to her and she doesn’t even care. But from thousands of miles away, as a daughter who has not done much to look after her Mak other than think of her in her daily prayers and write about her in her blog, I offer my undivided love and gratitude for making me what I am today, and for letting me be where I am today.....without any question, without any condition. HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY TO ALL
More on Mak: Mothering Mak The lie must go on The crying has stopped ...for now
Labels: mak, Mother's day |
| posted by Kak Teh @ 6:32 AM |
|
|
|
|
|
