Remembering The Victims

The recent attack in Bangladesh was unforgivable. There are young, innocent lives taken away just like that. Religious extremism has no place in this modern world.

Our deepest condolence to the grieving families.

Read on the victims here.

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Farewell To A Friend (Tribute To Pak Ngah Ben)

I am truly lost for words on how to say farewell to this friend.

 A humble man who had dedicated his life to rescuing, saving and helping stray cats, Pak Ngah Ben was a well known man among the circle of rescuers. He had rescued so many strays, cared and nursed them back to health and treat them with so much love.

His rescued strays, from ugly and sick cats turned into such beautiful cats that people thought they were of high breed.

It was quite late in the evening of Friday, 31 December 2014 when another close friend, Emi called my mobile. George and I were returning back home from one of our evening drives. That was when she shared the news that our friend has just passed away after Maghrib prayers.

We promptly make a detour and drove to the other side of the city to his house. It was already 11.30 pm. We arrived at his apartment but was told by the neighbour that his jenazah (remains) was sent to the nearby surau.

There were a lot of people there. I approached the wife, Mak Ngah and we both broke down. And next to us was the remain of Pak Ngah, covered in batik sarung and looking as if he was in deep slumber. The Al Quran readings around us were drowning my thoughts.

It was too terrible to accept the loss as I just saw his FB posting not more than 5 hours ago. He was there, and then, he was gone.

This evening, as I perused old photographs of the various events we had joined together, I realized that there was no picture of us together. The last visit to his house was after the Eidil Fitri last year when we paid him, his wife and the furkids a visit.

Widdy at Pak Ngah Ben's houseThis was taken during that visit. The furkid I was holding was named Widdy, a stray that now looked like a Persian or some exotic looking cat, thanks to his daddy.

A real loss to the rescue circle, and to friends who appreciate him for his friendship.

Rest in peace, Pak Ngah. We will all miss you.

Dennis

Dennis was the most recent furbaby that died due to the stray dogs. I couldn’t find him the day before that fateful day. Looked for him the entire evening. Called his name but he didn’t come back. The next day, the neighbour came by and told me that she saw him deep down in the storm drain.

The Daughter going down the storm drain via a smaller drain nearby. This was her very first attempt at picking up an ex cat in a storm drain…..she had never done this before as there was always me around. But somehow she wanted to on that day. Armed with a black bag, a long pole and disposal gloves, she slowly trailed down the small drain.

Poor, poor Dennis.

RIP Dennis.

Cuts Both Ways

It cuts both ways
Our love is like knife
That cuts both ways
Its driven deep into my heart each time
That I realize
How it cuts both ways
Cant be together
Cannot live apart
We’re heading straight into a broken heart
But I cant stop

Cause I feel too much to let you go
I’m hurting you and its hard I know
To stay and fight for what we’ve got
Knowing it will never be good enough
Cause you and I are dangerous
We want too much and life aint that way
Dont ask for more
Dont be a fool
Havent we already broken every rule

It cuts both ways, we’re in too deep for sorry alibis
Cant have regrets or even question why
We cant say goodbye
Because it cuts both ways
No more illusions of the love we make
No sacrifice would ever be too great
If you would just stay

Cuts both ways
Our love is like a knife that cuts both ways
Its driving deep into my heart each time I see we living the lie
And it cuts both ways
It cuts both ways
Cuts both ways
Cuts both ways

~~Gloria Estafan

The Last New Year That Wasnt With You

Time: one week to count down, 2006. 

All the flights back to KK were full, even one week before the departure date. This is afterall, time for almost everyone to fly home and you are so adamant to go back. Your friends needed you, you said. They have been texting you endlessly, asking, begging for you to be there at Promenade.

You are their centre of attraction, life of the party, the Banker.

So, a popular guy, all the friends are calling now, decides to pay for the exhorbitant Business class one way. Your head honcho follows too and travels with the boss with style as well. Afterall, how can a Chairman walks alone without his trusted body guard?

I was left behind, spending the quiet new year at home with your daughter. Watching the fireworks on tv, and just imagining what festive atmosphere you were having there. With all your friends and endless pits of whiskeys, wines and band girls at the club.

I called you close to midnight but both mobiles went unanswered. Must be the band singing and getting ready for the countdown. Or could it be that you chose not pick up the calls as you were busy with the hoards of girls surrounding the table downing the bottles and wiggling their Pinoy asses on your lap.

But, you know what?

I will only let this sadness and nostalgia come and visit me once in a while, and only ever so briefly because I let them to. I choose to reflect on them. After this, I will pack all these memories, send them back to the small dark compartment in the deepest recess of my brain and forget them to oblivions.

Because, thats where they deserve to be.

Remembering Tsunami

26 December 2004.

3 years ago, a massive earthquake scalling at 9.0 magnitude with an epicentre off the the West Coast of Sumatera, Indonesia was described as one of the worst disasters in the history of humankind.

Escaped from severe damages and high number of deaths unlike its neighbouring country Thailand, Malaysia still bore the wrath of the tidal waves at those places located in the coastal sides of Penang, Kedah, Perak and Selangor.

We were vacationing in Penang just a few days before the disaster struck and stayed at a resort in Batu Ferringhi, one of the main areas where Penang Island was worst hit. The weather during the few days of stay was great for picnicking and walking on the beach. You could see miles and miles of blue ocean from the white sandy long stretch of beach. Noone could have fathom what was in store in the next few days. Had Lyn not wanted to go back as she missed her cat, the vacation was supposed to stretch until Christmas day. So, on 23 December, we checked out from the resort and headed home.

Mary, an old colleage related to me of her story of how she and her entire family somehow escaped from this disaster.

It started of as a grand Christmas holiday plan for the entire clan – from grandparents, to cousins and nephews, siblings and parents – to go for a vacation to Phuket. Fate or whatever you want to call it, saw the wanted flight to Phuket full. There was a shortage of one seat for one of the family members. So, they changed plan, and booked a flight to Langkawi Island instead.

The entire family was booked at one of the resorts for a few days and was suppose to check out on 25 December 2004 itself. The check-out day arrived. Head of the family requested from the hotel for an extension of check out time but was denied as the hotel was running at a full capacity.  So, while waiting for the time to go to the airport, the family decided to take a walk by the beach. The ocean, she reflected back, looked as if it was sucked away. The tides were very low you could walk on the sea bed. She saw crabs crawling away and dead fishes were scattered everywhere. She wondered where had the watergone to?

She heard a sudden ominous rumbling, she said, as if a huge army had just marched in, complete with horses trampling the earth, and she could feel a sense of danger in the air.

And there it was.

Giant, black waves from afar came rushing, rolling towards the shore. She got panicked, she said. She had never seen anything like that before. Gut feeling kicked in and she rushed towards the small nieces and nephews and pulled them away towards the resort. Other vacationers started to scamper back as well although a few were still standing there, as if waiting for the giant army of water to roll in.

She ran as if there was no tomorrow, she related with a shudder. The black, murky water rushed in towards the shore with such force that the minute she reached to a higher point, Mary and the kids were already drenched by the waves. Somehow, none of her family members were hurt.

Had one of the seats to Phuket were confirmed, the entire clan would have flown to Phuket and stayed at one of the worst hit resorts. To think that there was a possibility than an entire clan would have vanished in a split second in the dark, destructive waves of tsunami gives me a nightmare to this day.

A miracle? You decide.

In The Star Online today, it was reported that “hundreds of Indonesians prayed at mass graves in Aceh province on Wednesday, while in Thailand Buddhist monks held a ceremony to remember the many thousands who died in the Indian Ocean tsunami three years ago.”

“At Phuket in Thailand, locals and foreigners gathered for a blessing ceremony on the island led by maroon-robed Buddhist monks.”

“NEVER FORGET”

Can Curiousity Really Kills The Cat?

So, she wants to fly back to KK and visit her daddy because she misses him.

“Oh? Really?” I asked her. I could see her twitching and fiddling with her hair, not looking at me and her lips slightly upturned, a surefire way of knowing that she was thinking of other things.

The plan is that she would fly in on the first week of December, spend a few days in KK with him by visiting the Philipina Market, her favourite place to eat bbq fish and the seaweeds. Then, to the Waterfront to get some foot massages.

She was one confused kid, my poor baby. It so breaks my heart everytime I see her in that mood. I know the real reason why she wanted to fly back – to meet Emily. She thinks that her daddy’s life has now revolved around this girl. And to make matters worse, she thinks that she is no longer her daddy’s Princess.

I wish that I could make her understand more that certain things in life cannot be dealt with in a confrontational way, or by hurting someone physically. It will not work. This is what she has in mind. And I know she’s capable of doing that. 

Oppression Of Women

Definition 1: Oppression – is the negative outcome experienced by people targeted by the biased exercise of power in a society or social group. It is particularly closely associated with nationalism and derived social systems, wherein identity is built by antagonism to the other. The term itself derives from the idea of being “weighted down.”

Definition 2: Oppression – 1 a: unjust or cruel exercise of authority or power b: something that oppresses especially in being an unjust or excessive exercise of power2: a sense of being weighed down in body or mind : depression

I have been closely following articles on the case of the 19 year old girl who was kidnapped and raped in Saudi. She was subsequently found guilty of being in the presence of non-muhrim and was sentenced to 200 lashes. The sentence was increased after the victim spoke out to the press.

Kidnapped, gang-raped then sentenced to 200 lashes?

They might have just hanged her to death and it will still be a parody of justice. And maybe a better place for her to be in her death than being subjected to such humiliation and degradation of the viliest nature while she is still alive.

 While some may (and had been a heated debate subject among my friends recently) argued that the religion has made the women more liberated than before, but I find this titilliting towards the need for these people to justify their actions to control their women. Simply because they need to stroke their super-ego, their need to show macho-ism and all of these are done in the disguise of their own intepretation of the holy religion. 

Now, I have been brought up in a conservative Malay environment where the majority of people who lived in the village worked the paddy fields, tap rubbers or toiled the farm. We were miles away from the nearest town and the nearest non Malays lived in Sg Ruan which was about 10 miles away. Malays in Malaysia are Muslims by default. I have studied the holy Quran, which was a norm in almost every household in the village.

I am no artsy modern girl and I have always kept that certain conservative-ism so as for me not to forget my roots.  From my observations in my own environment, I tend to believe that certain interpretations of the religion were also based on the intepreters’ own cultural background.

Feeling very lucky that I am nowhere living in a place that practices such oppressive ways towards its women, I can never rest on my laurel as I see some small sentiments are just creeping in for the past few years, no thanks to certain segment of the religious fanaticals who hails from the East Coast, but who have no qualms about crossing the border to enjoy some gratification of a definitely un-Islamic nature.

Go figure.

What Is The Breaking Point Of A Human Emotion?

The answer is:

I have no freakin’ clue.

I met an old friend, lets say her name is Mrs A (fill in here with the filthiest word you could think that starts with the alphabet A).

Three kids, 38 years old, and a husband that has a penis that points to anything in a skirt.

Mr A was bedding some women way back in 2000. He came back home though. When he liked it. And, like all good husbands, he’d left Mrs A with a gift. However, unlike some husbands who gave gifts such as flowers, jewelleries, etc etc, to their wives, he left her with something more profound. 

He gave her STD. Twice.

For seven years Mrs A went through many, many gigantic emotional breakdowns and roller coasters. He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not. On top of that, Mr A also thinks that Mrs A is his punching bag every time he feels like it. What an aXXXXXX (feel free to fill in more expletive word here). Her family is not helping either.

Mr A also thinks that it is OK for him to casually phone his girlfriends while Mrs A is around, and they would talk shop till all cows come home. He also thinks that it is OK for his girlfriends to snide Mrs A on the phone by telling how good he is in bed. What a toot! toot!

Sigh.

I have no idea what goes on in her mind, but one thing for sure, this was what she said, ” All I want is my husband back…..”

God, WOMAN! PLEASE GET HELP!!!!!

What Is Your Verdict, My Husband?

Well, here are some pictures I would like to share with those who care to read my blog.

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  Sleeping in my bed..

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…………….Coming to my restaurant, and chances are, eating my food too.

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This girl was in my bed, in MY house back in Kota Kinabalu, Sabah. Looks like the towels are mine too. I hope my husband didnt forget to send the beedsheets and the towels for cleaning and, better still to clorox all of the items. Not sure what sort of germs left behind. (I am pondering whether to discard my clothes too in the wardrobe just in case….hmmmmm)

One thing I must comment is, my husband does have good taste. 😉 She has nice hair. Oh, heres a new pix of her new hair.

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(posing in the TV room in my house, how cosy…)

And, her name is Emily.

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