A Parents' Guide to Backpacking

.........Or how to survive duration of child away backpacking with ventolin

When your child announces that he/she is going backpacking, take a deep breath and a puff or two of ventolin . When your breathing is more regular and your hands stop trembling, google “backpacking” and that will take you to several sites, as this is indeed a very popular mode of seeing the world amongst youngsters, especially those who refuse to tag along with their parents and want to avoid the well trodden path of visiting relatives and museums and familiar places that Tourism Malaysia has on offer.

Most sites will have keywords, such as “unlimited level of flexibility with travel itinerary”, “cheap accommodations” and “cheaper means of travelling”. That alone should be enough to tell you that you DO NOT call up friends and relatives in places where your offspring plans to be. If you had unwittingly called friends, or friends of friends and relatives or relatives of friends or friends of relatives, then apologise profusely to child in question and say that you only wanted her/him to call them once he/she is there to convey your salam. Then, take more puffs of the ventolin.

And when child in question announces that he/she is backpacking in Thailand, attach inhaler permanently to your nostrils and at the same time, trembling hands permitting, go through 25 ways to calm your nerves here.

Several other tried and tested tactics are also recommended. (Success rate not guaranteed)

Bribery: Go to Bangkok BUT only on transit and offer to pay for the rest of the holiday in Malaysia.

Blackmail: You go to Thailand and I promise you I will NOT sleep and eat, until you come back. (add "breathe " if you are really desperate.)

Eleventh Hour Emotional Blackmail at departure lounge: Compose your face suitably as you hug him/her at the departure lounge. Quivering lips accompanied by endless flow of tears and loud blowing of the nose is recommended.

If all of the above fail – doa. Lots of doa.

PERSONAL NOTE: Called up travel agent friend and scolded her for issuing the ticket and not lying and say that tickets not available or too expensive.

Preparation: Ask not just once or twice about travel arrangements, travel companions, parents and background of travel companions. Get phone numbers of travel companions, and that of their parents and grandparents.

Backpack and contents: Go through contents of clothes and essentials to make sure the child does not carry anything you or customs on both sides of the immigration table don’t want he/she to carry.

PERSONAL NOTE: Got at least five padlocks for each pocket available on backpack. Not satisfied with padlocks, get backpack to be cling-wrapped twenty times over at the airport. With backpack looking more like nangka bungkus, child relented for backpack to be checked in, rather than carried on back.

MANTRA PRE DEPARTURE: Don’t talk to any strangers. (But seeing that everyone will inevitably be strangers…) don’t talk to suspicious looking strangers. (Googled images of suspicious looking strangers…couldn’t find any). Don’t accept anything from anyone, keep drinks close to you. Go in groups, do not wander off by yourself.

SMS every move you make.

PERSONAL TRACKER: In the absence of trackers such as GPS, have page permanently displaying TIME NOW IN BANGKOK as screen saver. Google every place mentioned by child, such as “backpackers hostel”, koh samui, th khao san, ferry to Koh samui. Click on images of the above and then more puffs of ventolin.

Place handphone, cheap international call cards nearby. Template added in handphone messages: Where are you? Where exactly are you?

On receiving reply via sms, call.

On hearing loud music and atmosphere of fun and laughter, take more puffs of the ventolin.

A letter to my sayang mamas 2

Hello all,

Awang Goneng will be at MPH Midvalley on 20th January 3-4pm for a booksigning session.

Hope to see all of you there.

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We are now in Penang where AG is giving a talk on his book at USM on 17th December (ooops- its January!!) at 9am (while yours truly will be talking about what she does for a living.)

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My dearest ones,

It has been a while since I last wrote as we do not have internet access all the time. Daddy and I are now familiar faces at the internet café in front of the KLCC surau after we’ve had a spot of breakfast at Delifrance. We pay RM8.00 an hour, which is a bit steep, but it is worth it because the place is clean and most important of all, we do not get people standing right behind us reading our emails!

I am now back at Pak Ajie’s after sending Daddy off at the UKM station heading for Gombak. Everyone is fast asleep. Tok must be so tired as she had had a long day today. We all trooped off for breakfast at Taman Warisan and Tok enjoyed a a bowl of mee curry which was actually someone else’s. She forgot that she had ordered nasi lemak. That is Tok. But it is amazing that there are certain things that she doesn’t forget. She was telling Hilman on his first day at school, that I actually cried and kept running out of the classroom on my first day at school! And that must have been some ^%$#@ years ago!

Tonight I am sharing Hilman’s and Iman’s room and watching them sleep so peacefully, I thank Allah that they are safe and sound surrounded by their loved ones. I hope and pray that five year old Nini who went missing a few days ago, is also sleeping safe and sound and being cared by someone who will not harm her but will return her soon to her parents. Yes, not another one, I hear you say.

It is every parents’ nightmare and this happened not long after poor Nurin Jazlin was found in such a sorry state after being abducted for nearly a month. There are some very unsavoury characters around and it is sad that we have to bring up children to be suspicious of people.

When all of you were small, I used to be so paranoid – I believe I am still so. I’d hold your hands so tight that it hurt. I used to sew our phone number inside your clothes, just in case. Let us pray that Ninie will be returned to her anxious parents, soon. Real soon.

It has been more than a month since we said goodbye at Heathrow and I remember thinking “It is going to be a long two months away from all of you!”

If truth be told, I really don’t know where time went. The Singapore book launch seems like a year ago and we’ve been whizzing up and down the country – all GUiT related trips. So far, we’ve been back to Trengganu twice and I must admit I have fallen in love with the place AND the people.

Remember I told you that after the booksigning in Kuala Terengganu, we were invited back by the Chief Minister of Terengganu. He suggested a wonderful and interesting idea – which materialised into an event called Sembang-sembang Awang Goneng. And that happened on 7^th January at 3 pm at the Kelab Warisan on Pulau Duyong.

For the event, your cousin Mi and his wife Na bought Daddy a silk batik shirt. I must say I have never seen Daddy in a batik shirt and there’s always a first. I was presented with a similar piece of material which I sent to Mak Su’s tailor who made a baju kurung for me, fit for the occasion. Daddy was expecting about 50 people to turn up – instead, when we entered the grand hall, there were about 300 people , mostly pensioners and people old enough to remember events, people mentioned in GuiT. There was a big picture of Daddy on the screen and that was enough to give him a heart attack! Daddy talked for quite a bit, remembering his growing up days in Kuala Trengganu but when he spoke about the need to keep the people, the soul of the city, in the city, to grow with the development, he got a bit emotional and couldn’t speak for a while. I have never seen him like that, but then again, he had never been invited by the state to speak about his hometown. After the talk, the MB invited people to sembang-sembang, and exchange stories on Trengganu, but quite a few people stood up to speak about their concerns. A few spoke about the need for local writers to be recognised. Yes, I do agree with that.

Before the food arrived at our table, Daddy was surrounded by people carrying GUiT, courtesy of the state government. I don’t know how he managed to stand and sign all copies – but that he did, while answering lots of questions and posing for photographs.

Read about it here.

Earlier in the morning, he gave a talk at Universiti Darul Iman and considering students had classes to attend, many turned up and the hall was ¾ full. Suffice to say, Daddy is really enjoying doing the university rounds, speaking about creative writing, blogging and journalism.

We met a lot of people this time, his ex-classmates organised a reunion and one former teacher, his English teacher, in fact, turned up. The next day, his maths teacher came all the way from Ipoh after reading his book. If my maths teacher were to turn up searching for me, I’d run miles in the opposite direction!

Anyway, the stay in Trengganu was great. We stayed an extra day at Primula because I fancied
a walk along the beach after subuh. Every night I’d look out of the balcony – the south china sea right at our doorsteps! We could hear the roar of the waves lapping the beach…its mesmerising, fascinating but scary. I was in awe of nature , this creation of God. So, one morning, we decided to take a walk along the beach, and test the water, so to speak.

But, let me tell you something. A thing of beauty can also be dangerous.

Some very interesting people came to meet Daddy and one of them was French lady who had made Pulau Duyong her home. I remember visiting her in the 70’s. I just couldn’t reconcile the fact that we have all decided to adopt a foreign land but when asked where is home?, we had the same answer: wherever we happen to be at that time. I remember pencilling in “Going home “ in my diary on 2^nd December. And I am home now. And when we meet again, that is home too for that is where you all are.

Daddy is doing more booktalks at universities in Penang and two more in Selangor. He is really enjoying it. He seems to be in his elements talking about writing. Anyway, Pak Su, Mak Su and I took him to an Indian barber yesterday. I was worried that they’d do a real goneng on him, so we briefed the barber carefully. We looked through Bollywood magazines on the rack, no, not the shahruh khan look, nor the kapoor brothers. Pak Su helpfully said: Yul Bryner!

Well, this will be all for now and I don’t know when I can get my hands on a computer with internet connections again. Will call. Missing you all lots but take this time to be together, look after each other and be friends, not just brothers and sisters. And of course don’t forget Tabby, Gizmo, Kissinger, Moaner and Snowbell. They are your siblings and friends too. Here, Daddy keeps feeding stray cats.

Oh yes, there will be a booksigning at MPH Midvalley on 20^th Jan. 3-4 pm. Come lah…..hehe!

Lots of love,

Mama

A Letter to my Sayang Mamas

To my dearest sayang mamas,

A very happy 2008 to all of you minding the fort while we are away. And let’s hope for a fruitful year, blessed with happiness and success. Insya' Allah.

It looks like I have to update you on last year’s events and this, hopefully will be more than the usual rushed phone calls and brief sms’es of things GUiT.

The latest on GUiT is that Daddy was invited to read sections of his book at Seksan’s organised by Sharon Bakar. It was held on a fine Saturday afternoon in Bangsar, quite near where we got married 28 years ago. Daddy’s hair, I must report, was getting a bit long and how I wished Taufiq was around with his electric gizmo. Daddy thought it was okay, but I persuaded him to let me have a go trimming a bit here and there with Cik Su’s scissors.

A lot of people turned up and according to Sharon, it was a record number – well, I counted at least five of Daddy’s cousins, some old friends who came with their own copy of GUiT and some people who had perhaps read about GUiT in the media. You know that gentleman with the white beard and long hair, whose talented son, As, came and strummed his guitar for the cats? Well, as you know he is a well known national laureate who married an old classmate of mine. Both of them came to give Daddy some moral support.

There were other readers, like Dina Zaman, who actually interviewed Daddy two weeks ago. Then there was Patrick Teoh, a veteran broadcaster, whose dulcet tones and perfect diction and pronunciation earned him the title “The Voice of Malaysia”. It was great listening to him ‘live’! We don’t have anyone like him anymore.

I was a little nervous for Daddy as he had misplaced his reading glasses. The first reading was okay but I thought he struggled a bit with the piece on Besut. But all in all, everything went well and copies of GUiT brought along by the Pizzaman went like hot cakes, with one lady buying about ten!

That night we went back to Bangi as Pak Ajie had a small feast before your cousin Ummar makes his way to his secondary school up north.

But I bet you’re dying to hear about the Kuala Terenganu GUiT launch and booksigning. It was, needless to say, something way beyond our expectations. It was great and Daddy was visibly touched by the response and the reception.

He had insisted that we took the bus to KT and later I understood why. He wanted to take in all the sceneries along the route. He had not been back for a while.

I know how much all of you wanted to be here and there was not one moment when I didn’t wish that you were all here witnessing Daddy’s important moment. He had repeatedly said in press interviews that the book is dedicated to his children. And he said that not without a lump in his throat.

We stayed at Daddy’s cousin’s house – and the morning before the launch at Alam Akademik bookshop, Daddy ironed and wore the blue shirt that Hafiz bought for him just for this occasion. He told several people this. Ngah and cousin Mi managed to persuade him to change his shoes but I couldn’t make him part with his old rucksack which now looks a little tattered. So, off we went, tattered rucksack and all and at 10.30 people were already milling outside the shop. So, the signing began half an hour earlier and stopped only briefly for a press conference. The signing continued until after four.

I must say, I was in the limelight too as a few bloggers and blogreaders turned up and requested my signature as well and had my pictures taken with them. What a day! My feet were aching and I ended up wearing Japanese slippers.

Daddy shook hands with so many people that day, and at one point the queue was so long that it went right outside the shop, spilling into the street. There was a bit of a carnival atmosphere with bright yellow banners and posters of Awang Goneng being displayed everywhere, even on vans and neighbouring shops. While he signed, they played ‘Baliklah Wok’ or “Come home, My Beloved Child” – a very touching and sad poetry in Trengganuspeak. I couldn’t understand most of the words but I felt tears stinging my cheeks and I knew Daddy was also trying very hard not to let the dam burst.

We didn’t have much publicity before this but people came clutching their GUiT. Daddy’s English teacher, Mr Wee and his history teacher, his schoolmates and classmates came after hearing of his return. I was so truly amazed. People who knew him when he used to come to Pok Loh Yunan’s shop to get a copy of Utusang Melayu for Tok Wan, still recognised him. “We want him to come home,” said one Chinese friend who dragged another one still in his Pagoda singlet.

There were lecturers and professors and some important looking people whose appearance caused excitement among the local media. We didn’t know who they were and they queued up quite patiently like the rest. The event was open to everyone. But the next day, pictures of Daddy appeared in the papers with them and that was how we knew who they were. I wish the media had latched on to another interesting angle, i.e. the presence of the oldest surviving member of the Pok Loh Yunan clan.

When Daddy went for his prayers, I was approached by a lady who addressed me as Kak Teh and told me that the Chief Minister was inviting us for tea. Oh dear, how does one behave in such company? But if you must know, the CM was a very simple person who does not stand on ceremony. As soon as his iron gates swung open, he appeared in his kain pelikat and we sat and enjoyed tea with his lovely wife. I was tempted to have second helpings of murtabak Kelantan which was so delicious but really, I must behave myself. There were some funny moments that afternoon that we had tea with the CM. Sitting outside the porch with the breeze from the South China Sea gently blowing in, Daddy and the CM sang the Trengganu anthem!

Anyway, it was a long day, but a wonderful one.

The next day was Boxing day, but it was also the anniversary of your grandma’s passing away. We walked to the cemetery and I sat down saying my prayers to the mother-in-law that I am only beginning to know through GUiT. Later that morning, we went to the house in Tanjung. Ngah and Cik Su had already washed the floor and swept the dust and we sat down and did the tahlil for her. The house still holds many books, but sadly, many are now hollow. The silverfish had devoured the contents but I believe Daddy beat them to it. I stood at the window looking out to the new buildings outside but I imagined the qasidah and prayers that Daddy used to hear being recited from the nearby surau.

Even at the house in Tanjung, people were coming over to have their books signed. Many came to confirm and share stories about events and characters that Daddy had written about in the book.

I wonder if you have read the chapter about the unfortunate incident experienced by cousin Dah? Well, we visited cousin Dah, who from a distance beamed and giggled, recalling the day she was knocked down by a tok peraih on a bicycle carrying fish to the market. Ngah even took pictures of the junction where the fishy incident took place. There were many, many memories being rekindled and many were amazed at Daddy’s memory. I was dumbstruck too as I recalled the countless times he came back from shopping without most things that I had written on my shopping list. But that’s by the by.

Daddy’s cousins and uncles and aunts all wanted to feed him – so we were constantly being fed with kerepok lekor, laksa Terenganu, roti paung and many more which I can’t pronounced but are mentioned in GUiT.

This trip back to Trengganu is indeed an educational one. Daddy took me to Makam Tok Pelam and the caretaker was kind enough to allow us in. And once the door to the Makam was opened, lo and behold, there were the two bird’s eggs that Daddy mentioned in GUiT in the chapter on Eggs in a Net. Even some of the locals didn’t know of the existence of the eggs.

In some of the chapters where Daddy spoke about his father, he also mentioned a colleague of Tok Wan, someone called Pok Mat. Well, we got news that Pok Mat had had a stroke and we went to visit him. The poor man was in great pain. He couldn’t recognise Daddy anymore and Daddy was moved to tears to see his father’s dear friend in such a state. It was really very sad.

This is becoming a little too long. But let me tell you how Daddy is coping with this instant fame. He is stil not used to being in the news. He is more comfortable writing the news, doing the interviews. But now he finds that people recognised him as Mr Awang who wrote GUiT. We were having breakfast at KLCC when a Uruguayan lady approached him for a signed copy of GUiT. He was all flustered and embarrassed. Oh well.

There’s a lot more to tell, but this will suffice for now and I do need my beauty sleep and lots of energy as I am now managing Daddy the Awang Goneng. He is no doubt enjoying his rest in Gombak and I am sleepless in Bangi.

Take care my sayang mamas, take care of each other and love you lots.

PS, GUiT was knocked down to number three best seller two weeks ago but has gone up to number two again this week. We will be on the move again.

Have a good and prosperous 2008!

Oh, PPS...On the way back, Daddy pointed out to me the haunted house he mentioned in Whispering Wanderers!!!

Missing my sayang mama

My daughter had to practically drag me away from the screen. “Mama, you can’t watch the plane taking off from that screen,” she said, half exasperated, half amused. The MH7 due for take off at 1805 had already registered that Gate 26 was already closed and my Taufiq had long disappeared behind the screen, past the passport and ticket checks, carrying just one rucksack. I drowned my sorrows in a plate of pasta. My husband sipped his tea in silence. He had tried to delay Taufiq going in for as long as he could, with last minute reminders and small talks.

Anyway, that moment came and went and suffice to say, the fog had lifted but there were flash floods at Terminal 3 Heathrow.

It must have been about a month ago when the organiser of the Youth Exchange Programme rang me up and asked whether any of our children would be interested. I had suggested Taufiq. He is sixteen and it would really do him good to join a group of Malay youths born and bred around the world, to take part in an exchange programme that would make him get to know his country and culture better. He was apprehensive. “I don’t know the host family, mama. I don’t know anyone,” he said. “That’s the very reason why you should go, “ I cajoled. And three weeks later, the excitement got to him while I felt apprehension setting in. “It is too late to change my mind, mama,” he said cheekily.

Yes, I must let him go, I told myself as I ironed his boxer shorts and folded them neatly in the bag. It must have been only yesterday that I was ironing his Thomas the Tank Engine undies and Batman pyjamas and now he only wears M&S boxer shorts and Calvin Klein pyjama bottom!

He has brought with him his favourite Barcelona stripes in case he has to play football there. As I ironed his black baju Melayu, I felt a lump rising in my throat. This raya, who is going to help him with the sampin? He may be 16, but every morning, I still tie his neck tie before he goes to school. And this raya, I will miss him doing the takbir in that voice that signals he is already an adult. I miss him most during subuh prayers when he does the iqamah, standing there beside his father, the imam.

I hope by sending him back in this exchange programme, I am not only letting him explore and learn more about the country and the culture that is his and ours but also to let people there know that being born and bred away from the homeland does not necessarily make one forget one’s root, culture, identity and religion.

Taufiq will be living with a host family in Rembau and till today, I still do not know who the host family is. The week long programme starts on 29th December and he will spend Hari Raya Haji with them.

It is every parent’s hopes that a child’s behaviour reflects his upbringing.
“Don’t forget to salam with everyone you meet, say thank you and be respectful of the elders,” And even as I uttered these I knew it was unnecessary for I knew he would do so. As for prayers, it was he who reminded me most of the time. “It’s nearly asar mama,” or “Let me do the dishes, maghrib is nearly over.”

It is these little things that I will miss during the next three weeks. The conversation that we have during our shopping trips, the laughter, the whispers and teasing as we watch our favourite tv programmes. All these years, the chubby toddler who used to sit with me as I typed my work, had grown up to be a friend that I can confide in.

“Yes, I will miss him too,” said the father as we were shopping for biscuits and chocolates to send home. "he is a good friend." And suddenly the dam burst right there, between the chocolate and dairy shelves at Tesco. Although, he didn’t say much, I know that the father will be missing the discussion of world events with him. Just before he left, they were discussing the developments in Somalia.

Both of us kept reminding ourselves that this programme will certainly do him good.

This year had seen him more matured beyond his years, not least because of the responsibilities he had been given at school. Being elected Deputy Head Boy, I am proud to say that I have seen changes in him. He played no small part during Remembrance Day and just recently, was in the panel interviewing candidates for Head Teacher for his school. While he tried hard to promote a positive image of Muslims in his school, the behaviour of some boys who played truant after Friday prayers, meant that the privilege of going for prayers at the mosque outside the school was withdrawn. He fought for the small group of Muslim students to be given a room for prayers and then led the prayers. I remember him preparing the sermon for his first khutbah. In his first message, he reminded his fellow Muslims the importance of tolerance and patience. I think he did quite well. In fact I think he did very well.

Since his arrival he has already met his uncles and aunts, cousins and Tok. He is having a crash course in Nogori speak from his Pak Ngah who hails from Pilah. We told him, when he goes to Rembau he must ‘sopeak proporly’. And yes, he has already gone shopping, with a generous angpow from his uncle JC and his older brother. Tomorrow he meets Malay youths from saudi and together they will travel to Rembau.

Take care sayang mama. And we have you in our doas everyday. See you next year!

She is back!

It was three weeks ago that I sat before three excited girls on the 1715 to Gatwick. They were leaving for Malaysia, with plans to pack in everything possible in the three weeks they were going to be there. They even had a crash course in pronunciation in Malay.

“Mak Ngah” said my daughter who was supposed to be the guide for the other two.

“Mak Nah,” repeated one friend. ”Mak Nyah,” said the other, practising how to address my older sister they were going to meet on arrival.

Oh, well, whatever, I thought, feeling a tinge of envy at the spirit of adventure, freedom and excitement. When I was their age, Mak took me everywhere, even to my first job as a temporary teacher at Air Hitam Secondary School, and even waited at the bus stop! Such a sheltered and boring life. So, no faraway trips that required visas and certainly no school rombongans.

They arrived home yesterday, Alhamdulillah, lugging heavy suitcases full of souvenirs and goodies and stories about the holiday that took them to Kuala Lumpur, Pangkor, Penang and Kedah. They had a lot to show – photographs, new clothes, cosmetics and toiletries (they are dirt cheap!), mosquito bites and marks left by leeches when they did jungle trekking. I sighed a sigh of relief that everything went well – no tummy ache, no accidents and most of all – no youtube visuals of them doing things that usually appear in youtubes!

Anyway, according to the card that the two friends gave my daughter, thanking her for bringing them to our beautiful and friendly Malaysia, they also thanked her for the opportunity to see her as a real Malay!

Indeed, they saw the best side of Malaysia; they enjoyed the scenery, the friendly people, the cheap but quality goods, the wonderful and delicious food and the list is endless. They had a taste of the city, dining at Crown Plaza, Hard Rock cafe, entertained by Chef Ismail himself at his restaurant Rebung, treated to a massage and being chauffered around, courtesy of a strong cable that I still maintain. They also experienced, briefly, kampung life, when they visited my sister in Bukit Pinang, the hustle bustle of Chow Kit Road and the tranquil and serene atmosphere of Masjid Negara where they stopped for prayers.

And how Malay has she become? Oh well, how about loads of kain batik sarongs, the umbrella like thingie to cover food, and....a congkak! So we played congkak while she talked about her holiday and believe me, I have not forgotten how to play!

Although I was apprehensive about letting her go, I now know that it was a good decision. Family holidays is fine, but being able to explore the country, the culture by themselves without us telling them what we want them to know, showing them what we want them to see, is quite different and has its advantages.

Sure I worried about how she was going to communicate with Mak, her grandmother. But I needn’t have. Both hugged and cried when they met and Mak, talked and talked animatedly in her pekat Kedah Malay, hands in action to convey whatever she wanted to convey to the granddaughter she had not seen for a while. Even both her friends fell in love with Mak who kept hugging them. “How did they communicate?” I asked my siblings in one of my numerous sms’es to them.

“With lots of tears and laughter” came a reply.

Communication was indeed not a problem. But I did receive this urgent sms saying, “Mama, pls call me back and speak to this person,” I did and true enough, I myself couldn’t quite understand the person I was speaking to. My daughter wanted to know where the bus they were taking, would stop and the time of arrival in Alor Star. They were then at a bus terminal in Butterworth. The guy I was talking to had a very strong Utaghra accent.

I am glad that they spent time with their relatives, met up with cousins and did what young people on holiday do, without their over-protective parents around.

BUT sending them alone to be with your siblings, without you being there to defend yourself is certainly not a very good idea. THE SIBLINGS ganged up on me and told her how I love to pinch, how I cut Kak Cik’s hair and left her in tears and how I virtually got everything I wanted because I was utterly spoilt. Well, whatever!

Next week, another sayang mama is leaving for Malaysia – to discover Malaysia and what she has to offer on his own. Taufiq is joining 20 other Malay youths born and bred overseas in a Youth Exchange programme. He will be with a host family in Rembau. I am stocking up phone cards and I suspect my siblings will have their phones permanently switched off.

So, you're sixteen, eh?

The day he started his weeklong work experience, wearing his new Zara pants, he looked so smart I nearly cried. He was so excited that he couldn’t wait to rush out of the door, giving me only two quick kisses. Only two, when it used to be four or five. I shouldn’t really be complaining, as he is after all almost an adult – he will be sixteen on the sixteenth. So, two kisses cannot be that bad. It is better than none.

He left me alone with my thoughts and memories of the day he came into my life. I remember the day the labour pains came just as H and I were enjoying a bar of Galaxy in the birthing room. When the pain came, I just wanted H to go and tell the midwife that I had changed my mind, that I didn’t need another baby. After all, we already had three. But the waves of pain were persistent and the bar of Galaxy lost its appeal. The next thing I knew H was nursing an aching and bruised arm as a result of being tugged and pulled and scratched in my attempts to make him share the pain. But the pain went with the realisation that I had been blessed with another boy to complete our set!

And all too soon, the toddler who used to cling to the back of my chair and cover my mouth with his chubby little hands whenever I tried to speak on the phone, grew up to be my closest ally, confidante and friend. The little boy whose hand I held throughout our car rides because he was scared of the dark, became my reliable bodyguard on our shopping trips together, my constant companion to just about anywhere, an easy prey to my endless emotional blackmails. A harsh critic of my satorial non-sense, he tolerates my idiosyncrasies which seem to embarass his siblings.

I remember the look on his face the day I started wearing the hijab. He was beaming from ear to ear. He must have been only twelve when I reasoned with him that I was not goingt o wear the tudung just because he wanted me to. I had to make him understand that when I wore it, it was because I was ready and that it must come from the heart. He understood. But it never stopped him from whispering “You look nice, Mama” everytime I donned a scarf to go to the surau. Now that I have a collection of Sri Munawarah’s wonderful creations, his smiles of approval never left his face ‘cos he loves how neatly the tudungs framed my face as he no longer had to sweep in the strands of hair that strayed out of my otherwise clumsily tied tudungs.

Yes, he tolerates me and humours me and for that I am glad I didnt cancel the order that day sixteen years ago. The little baby we brought back from the Hammersmith Hospital has given me so much joy and happiness and I hope and pray that he will continue to be the loving, dependable and reliable son that he is. To my sayang mama, have a wonderful birthday and although I will not be with you to celebrate this day, I will be thinking of you. Love you heaps, my little Batman!