Song of the Sea: Laments of a Heart: A Tale of Innocence

In solitude
I crossleg on the millions of granules,
witnessing the birth of a new day.
It's peaceful around here.
Before me spreads a priceless painting,
Splashes of pink and orange spice the dull blue.
entitled "happy colours of the innocence".
Strange as it seems, the colours that remind me of you
are created on this land.

As children we breathed the same salty breeze.
We frolicked under the same sun.
We watched the high and the ebb.
But I had strayed from our playground.
And you, with the gentleness of the lapping
waves in June,
brought me back.
We were the innocence.
We confided our dreams,
We laughed, and we shared.
But today there are only regrets and a sharp pang.

This emptiness in me will no longer be filled with innocence.
The waves still lap gently.
They come and retreat.

I'm sitting here alone
Realising I can never catch my waves.
Realising I will miss you a lifetime.

penned on this day, 29th June 2003.

the football match

last thursday, when our beloved sultan mizan was installed as the 13th agong, my top lcds committee came for a meeting at my house (the president's idea, since his house is near to mine). when the children arrived (i'm very fond of calling them children, although obviously they are teenagers, i feel that there's a certain charm to it that i just cant resist), the smell of chocolate muffins greeted them, and they stayed for 3 hours for a meeting regarding our summer camp which will be held at one of the pulaus.

and just today, we had our annual football tournament, amidst the soft patter of a drizzle. i was there with another lcds teacher, and we stayed until 10 matches were played. everytime we began to walk down the stairs of the astaka, one of the boys would ask "teacher, where are you going?" obviously, we had to stay and we kept ourselves busy chatting (as all women do).

the final match finally ended at nearly 3pm, with the underground fc winning the title...amidst the sweat, lots of mud and empty mineral bottles (which i told them to pick up before the admin makes noise).

hopefully after this the next activity will be a blast.

The Climb

i hate climbing anything that is vertical. the last time i had a climb was in 95 when i was forced to climb a mountain in kluang. that was a torture. nowadays i spend most of the days walking on flat land where it seems more stable and i've no fear of falling.

then, a few days ago, my neighbour, a neurosurgeon, asked me to be her buddy for the hill climb. in KT, that only means Big Hill (direct translation, please). for a lesser mortal like me, the hill is precipitous. she already told me not to talk too much while climbing or i'd lose my energy. she's right. i couldnt even talk because my breathing was so laboured... i already told her if i couldnt go to school because of jelly legs, she's supposed to issue me an MC.

my neighbour takes the climb as a challenge because "the heart rate accelerates" and it's a good workout. so i was huff and puffing and we stopped a few times, watching some of the other locals with envy. while we were struggling, some men in their 50s were jogging and talking leisurely the whole way up.

when we reached the top, we could see a marvellous view of KT. nice. the descent was much easier, but it still took us half an hour. today is my 2nd day, and hopefully i'll do better.

This Thing We Call Love

since time immemorial, both men and women have been plagued with this incurable sickness/madness/euphoria (choose whichever is applicable).

i dont know why it wasnt that complicated for my siblings - for my eldest brother, it was an arranged marrige; for the rest of siblings, well it was easy. but for me, as the youngest, living in a totally different era, it is a hurdle that is hard to cross. and my nieces agreed.

one of my nieces is back in KT, to recuperate. we went for walks on the beach...more walks on the beach...staring into the aquamarine sea hoping that the tranquility will heal the wound. and all the while, we talked about relationships and men, about temptations, expectations and the brutal reality.

of course, love is not THAT BAD. it's like chocolate. it tastes heavenly and you'll be on cloud 9 or 12 or 15. you ll be smiling for no reason, the earth seems a better place for you and you just want everybody to be happy for you.

but when something goes wrong, and i'm not talking about a minor glitch, but a major one that forces you to rethink; love, like chocolate, leaves its scar. only then you feel the pain of the fall because you ve fallen so deep that you cant possibly get up. you think that the world is unfair because some !@@#^& broke your heart, and while to some, crying is all they can do, for some others, stabbing that person or ram into his new beloved car seems a very sensible and justified action. he's hurt you, so why shouldnt you hurt him?

yes, and so the heart bleeds....but hell hath no fury like a woman scorned either.

i've had my fair share of heartbreaks. and from each breakup, although i was hurt, i learned. the process of healing is always long and arduous and there are times when i feel that life is unfair. i wish i can just let go of the pain, but it's not that easy. healing IS long, and can be trying but it is through this process that we know ourselves better, that we become wiser. which is why we make mistakes. people dont listen to advice when they're in love. they learn from mistakes.

and hopefully, the next time i'm in love i'll be wiser.

The Wish and the Disillusionment of A Teacher

a true teacher is satisfied when her students have succeeded in life. she doesnt ask to be repaid in money (though a pay raise by the ministry is eagerly welcomed) nor does she ask the students to paint her name in the sky or be printed in papers.

thus, i always get a warm and fuzzy feeling when my students and ex students succeed. it doesnt matter if they're straight A students, so long as they're doing well, and they turn out to be decent people. because i believe not only in teaching them english or literature, but to mould them to become a good person. and that's the hardest task.

i'm reminded of a movie entitled "The Emperor's Club" starring Kevin Kline - a History teacher who teaches the History of Roman Empire to his students, and how he trusts and tries to "tame" a wild rich boy by giving him a chance in their annual Caesar's Quiz. the boy cheats in the quiz. he grows up to become a corrupted politician. and in his old age, the teacher becomes disillusioned, wondering if he can trust his judgment of people.

i feel the same way as that teacher feels today, when i saw an ex student requested that i add him in the list. i was shocked when i saw his pictures. not exactly what i thought my student would behave, and that really disappoints me. because i feel like i've failed as a teacher. i sent him a message asking who he was, but his answer was arrogant. it's not what i had expected from a student of mine either. especially a religious school student.

it makes me wonder.

soreness n frizzy hair

last 2 weeks,i was told by my head of panel to replace him for a course in KL.

"why me?"

"because, after the head of panel, the next person who should go is the secretary"

thought of LCDS badminton tournament.... the LCDS high comm meeting...my first Cycle 6 Literature in English class... *sigh*

in accusing tone
"you should have told me earlier"

"hey sorry la, i would have been there myself, but i'm stuck here"

yeah right.

so on sunday morning, i made my way to JPN and boarded the JPN bus with the other KT teachers. i saw familiar faces, my SPM marking teammates, and my longtime tesl friend maizah. the journey was full of chatter, but in the end, after 9 hours on the road, we just wanted a good stretch and a proper bed to lie on. we reached the hotel. looked at it, and sighed a big sigh. (read between the lines please)

later that night we met the ELO, DELOs, the GC and vicky. i was looking at vicky's hair, and thought "that's really a frizzy hair". from time to time she would twirl her fingers around her hair. later on, when i was in my group, i wasnt alone in my thoughts. one male teacher joked of buying her a metal comb.

during her session, we were amused with her american accent, especially when she pronounced "modules", which we thought at first was "mahjong". when we did catch what she said, we, the english teachers, became just like our students, and imitated her american accented "modules". now i know how my students feel like whenever i teach them phonetics in class.

it was another long journey on the road, and the bus driver did not see the humour when i was the last one to board the bus at a stopover - you see, i saw a teacher bought a cornetto, and i just had to get one. grinning at him didnt help either. thank god for the cuti perjalanan that we got the next day....too tired to even move.

well anyway, despite the soreness, i learnt something and am inspired to work wonders in class. and despite her hair, vicky did teach me something (or reminded me of what my lecturers taught)- to vary the teaching methods. which i did, and the debate in my form 4 class was a roaring success, with the students actively participating in the heated discussion.

well... at the end of the day, i smiled.

dated 26th march: An Elegy for Fluffy

i had so many cats before, eversince i was a girl of 6. i think cats are so affectionate and loyal, with the adorable qualities as well.

my beloved half persian, fluffy, was such a cat. i fell in love with him when he was 3 months old, and i bought him frm a pet shop. he's active, as all kittens are, and had a really cute face. all my family members love him, including one of my sisters who hates cats.

the thing about fluffy is he's really manja. too damn manja. he would meow in that manja way of his. and would come and take a nap in my room. sometimes he'd wake me up in the morning, asking me to open the door for him. when my students come for tuition, he'd come to the table and bask in the glory when people fuss over him. i used to feel menyampah over his act, but i love him.

despite his manja ways, fluffy could be very haughty. he could give anyone that haughty stare of a royalty. and he's also very smart. when he wanted us to let him out to enjoy a morning romp, he'd give us that melting pitiful look.

the whole neighbourhood knows fluffy, of the fact that in the evening and at night when he still hadnt returned, i or the maid could be heard calling his name.

last night, fluffy was extra manja, more manja than usual. i called his name from time to time, and he'd come near me and slept. when i was baking bread, he kept me company in the kitchen.

today, one of the neighbours' son came to the house to tell us that fluffy was found dead at his garage. there he was, fluffy, in his white and caramel fur, lying very stiff, eyes wide open. i was so shocked and held him dearly, and the trip back to my house (though a few metres away) was dreadful. that was the last time i held him, with his soft fur... i was crying openly, but i just didnt care. fluffy died. and he wanted to spend the last moments with his mistress. fluffy died, and my heart is crying...i can still hear his manja meows in my head. may his soul rest in peace.

entry dated 24th march: The Lovers of Literature s Meet

i always dread going to courses. may be it's because i like the mundane routines and hate being yanked frm its dreariness. so i always complain (loudly) about the stupid courses - like, the one i attended 2 years ago, about encouraging the teachers to use the textbook in class (DUH!! i've been using textbooks in class long before that). there was once a one-day course where english teachers had to jazz chant and jump. i wasnt amused at all.

and so, it was with great excitement when i was told by the top JU here that i would be attending a briefing on the new syllabus for the 6th cycle of Literature in English. yep, i was on the moon, jumping over it, around it, whichever prepositions you prefer. you see, i've been teaching the subject since 2 years ago, and after much racking of the brain, i realised that i need help in teaching the ending cycle - the one with the e.e. cummings (why on earth did they select a modernist poet who wrote run ons and gleefully wrote cryptic words?). i also need the new syllabus. i'm very happy to know that they chose Neruda's poem. the selection of texts are carefully thought of, and the texts are student friendly (except shakespeare's julius caesar)

will start the class next week...cant wait!

thumbs up to CDC

well my heart leapt up on thurs when i went to school and the typist handed me the texts of the new cycle for Literature in English SPM paper. because the first title that i read is the title of my mostest favouritest poem in the world, written by the most passionate poet, Pablo Neruda. the people at the Curriculum Dev. Centre must have a soft spot for the Chilean poet like i do.

i first read the poem 10 years ago when i was recovering from a breakup. now everytime i read the poem i still cry, as i can feel the poignancy n the emptiness felt by the persona.

well my literature students will hear me raving about the poem during our lessons...that's for sure...haha...for those of you who've never heard of neruda or read his works....read this poem...btw there are some other versions as neruda wrote this in spanish, so this is a translation.

The Saddest Poem

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."

The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I love her, and sometimes she loved me too.

On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think that I dont have her. To think that I've lost her.

To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to the grass.

What does it matter that my love couldnt keep her?
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.

That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is so lost without her.

As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for her, and she is not with me.

The same night that whiten the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

I no longer loved her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.

Some else's. She will be someone else's. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short and forgetting so long.

Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
My soul is so lost without her.

Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem i write for her.

Pablo Neruda (1904-1973)

the lament of a shoe freak

i was walking in town 2 days ago, and passed by vincci. i couldnt resist stopping by, especially when there's a sale going on. so there i was, in my shoe haven, and i saw rows and rows sandals, there were at least 10 that i like, but alas, with a great sigh i realised that those were all at least 1 1/2 inches high. ah! i sighed again. such pretty shoes! and i cant bring them home because my feet are killing me if i wear heels when i walk to the form 3 blocks. and another reason is, i counted my wearable shoes, and i have at least 20 pairs of heels. i guess i'm turning into carrie bradshaw and her blahniks (but mine are just vinccis, carlo rinos and primavera), but i hope i'm not turning into imelda marcos. and so, i sighed again, walked out of the shop. alas, pretty shoes, parting is such sorrow!

I need a Holiday!!

on the 1st day of school, i was at the last coordination meeting for spm paper code 1119/2. when the last bundle was carried into the team leader's car, i was stumped. pooped. tired. felt like a zombie... yes, i was mentally tired.

the next day i went to school, and felt, for the 1st time the agony of walking to the new form 3 block, which used to be form 4 block and was the agony of all the form 4 teachers. my heels are either 2 inches or 2 1/2 inches high, so just imagine walking a long long way and climbing the tiny tiny steps in my heels to all my classes. and i groaned. my classes are all on the 2nd floor. including my form 4 class.

which is why, i need a holiday. thinking of the next trip...ah! cant wait to see the culture, to visit the historical places....how ppl there live...and to shop!!!

The Standard of English of Young Malaysians

back in the 70s, my late bro, who came back fr. the UK after getting his MRCP, was offered as a lecturer in the faculty of medicine of UKM. my brother, like me, was concerned with the quality of students produced. we both want our students to come out to the outside world with knowledge that befits them - in this case, for my brother, to produce quality doctors. unfortunately though, he was pressured to pass the students eventhough they're not up to the mark. finally, my brother left, and became a specialist in the govt. hospital. he was offered a lot of money to join the private hospitals, but he declined the offer - because he wanted to train young doctors doing their housemanship and to ensure they're of quality.

now, i raise the same question of quality, and although i'm not a medical doctor like my late brother, i question the standard of english among the young malaysians nowadays. to be sure, there are good english speakers, good english writers - those who are exposed to the language at such an early age or use it at home as their 1st language rather than their mother tongue. then there are those who are motivated because of their keen interest in the language.

one of the reasons why students dont perform well is that they're not interested in the language. yes it's the same excuse, but it is the reality. they dont see the point of learning the language, or worse, they would rather read other subjects such as Physics, Chemistry, Biology. some brilliant graduates are jobless because they cannot communicate in english. which is a big shame, really. my niece, who went for the interview to become a PTD (diplomatic and admin officer) was appalled to see how graduates who could speak eloquently in bahasa during a presentation, struggled to speak in english during an oral english presentation.

parents should play the key role in motivating the students by speaking in english at home. yes, everybody is embarrassed to speak in english at first (for those who are not used to it) but it gets better with practice. which is more important, pride or the benefit of the children? they should also motivate the students to read in english. as i often told my students, even the most brilliant professor in english cant teach them everything there is to know in english, and they should help themselves.

unfortunately though, some students live in communities that still see english as a colonial language " bahasa penjajah", and some extremists view english as the language of the infidels "bahasa kafir". english is just a tool for communication, it has no religious nor political connotations. if the extremists are so worried for the souls of their children, they should bear in mind that their mother tongue is not the language of the Quran either (read this in a very dry note).

another main reason: some organisations which i cannot mention here, are instrumental in presenting malaysians with a facade. the teachers have a certain standard for their students, but after the results of public exams are out, students often get better results. some deserve the good grades, but some are questionable. sometimes we are told to accept answers that do not really answer the question. which makes this brain wonder again.... what has become to the standard of english? thus, we present malaysians with another reality. a constructed reality. my fren, who is working at one of the organisations, said that there are some who question why students who performed well in 1119 cannot perform in muet. i'm not going to provide the answer here. it is up to the readers to think. as descartes said, cogito ergo sum - i think, therefore i am.

Getting a Maid:A Manual

i'm maidless right now, which is equivalent to a greek tragedy. i've been so used (and spoiled) to having small luxuries, that now i miss all those days. like having all my clothes including nightgowns and caftans ironed.

i'm waiting for the new maid to arrive now, and you'll never believe how expensive a maid can be. last 2 years, we paid RM5k to get a maid in and paid her RM370 a month. now we've to pay RM6.7 to get a maid in, and her salary will be RM500. if you get one through licensed agencies, that is.

so basically, what do you have to do if you want to get a maid? first of all, survey. you ll have to know
1. how much the agency's service charge is
2. how much the indon agency's service charge is

however, it is my advice that you do not opt for unlicensed agencies, as the qualities of the maids might differ. of course, they offer much cheaper price usually half of the price set by licensed agencies, but if you want a peace of mind in your house, it's going to be difficult.

then, after you've chosen the agency, browse through the profiles the agent shows you. my agent uses her Chinese study of judging people from their physical appearances in helping us to decide on a maid. i found it amusing at first, but her judgment tend to be accurate. after you've chosen the the profile, the agent will start on the legal documents. some agencies do all hassle of going to the imigration, some dont. mine dont, but it's okay, because she prepared everything and i just went to the imigration, and they approved my application in a jiffy. to those of you who have to do the paperwork on your own, you'll get a few sets of forms frm your agents. you have to prepare copies of IC, borang EC, 3 months of your payslip, and if you have children under 18 years old, then make copies of their birth certs, if you're getting the maid for your sick parents, then you'll have to make a copy of your birth cert to prove your relationship to the parents. also, get a medical report from a doctor to prove the parents need assistance in doing their daily activities if your parents are below 70 years old. after preparing the copies, get duty stamps worth RM50 stamped on the application forms. when everything's in order, go to the imigration and bring along with you RM430 for the levy. the officer will approve your application, though i cant promise you that the application can be approved in a short time.

when you get the maid, you're responsible in getting her a medical check up. this is done through fomema and they will give you a list of panel clinics. you also have to pay RM190 for this.

before i forget. make sure you get an insurance to cover the maid frm the agency. if, let's say, the maid meets an untimely demise, you'll have to bear the cost of RM8k to transfer her body back to the country. if you apply for the insurance, however, you dont have to pay much, just a couple of hundreds.

so, what do you do when you get your maid? you've to train the maid according to your taste. what i mean is, how do you want your house to be run - how many times does she have to mop the floor in a week, what time is she supposed to set the table and so on. this is the biggest headache, because it's not easy to train a maid. if you get a garang maid, you'll be in trouble if you're soft because she'll bully you. if you get a slow maid, you feel like screaming your head off. you have to use your discretion, dont be too strict. dont be too friendly or else they'll be on your head. be firm but reasonable.

so that's just a few tips that i can offer you, based on my experience. bonne chance!

Judge Dread (not Dredd)

it's that time of the year again - when migraine attacks and gastric pains occur. when you rack your brain, thinking of things linguistically. when you ask yourself - to give or not to give?

yup. judging students' exam scripts. it's not an easy feat to read and to award marks to students. it is, after all, about deciding one's fate. of course, the fact that we dont know the candidates make it easier for us to evaluate the scripts fairly. though the hardest part is trying to decipher what the candidates are trying to convey in their essays. it's like driving a car. sometimes you get to drive a BMW - a smooth ride; sometimes you get to drive cabuk cars so it's a bumpy ride. there are candidates who wrote impressive pieces, so impressive that i thought that this cant be written by a 17 year old...what a diction! such precision, such sophistication!

i'm not going to talk much about this, since i'm bound by the Confidentiality Act. may God give me a clear mind to mark for the rest of the month until 2nd Jan.

Mundane Life

well, was in kl for a week, and all the dutiful children came to pay homage to the matriarch, including our ever-so-busy brother. back to mundane life after spending god knows how much in kl (and getting lost on the way back from putrajaya, thanx to my niece Asha). have to seriously start saving for the next trip with Gina.

besides going here and there trying to complete the application for the new maid, i'm currently reading The Postmodern by Simon Malpas. no, it's not a fiction. it's a required reading, to equip myself before i embark on my next migraine-inducing mad project in the quest of enlightenment and self-betterment. well, it's not as dense as Homi Bhabha's. i keep myself sane by searching for soundtracks, the familiar tunes as well as out of print ones. i found a slow romantic rap song by Squeeze entitled Heaven Knows, which is featured in Hackers, starring Angelina Jolie (she was still young at that time, it's where she met her ex-hubby Johnny Miller). then, there's another obscure song, which i remember from my teenage years when i watched the 80s teenage flick Just One of the Guys by Ronnie Spector called "Tonight You're Mine". my current fave is Michael Buble's Home, featured in The Wedding Date.

Home

Another summer day
Is come and gone away
In Paris and Rome
But I wanna go home
Mmmmmmmm

Maybe surrounded by
A million people I
Still feel all alone
I just wanna go home
Oh I miss you, you know

And I've been keeping all the letters that I wrote to you
Each one a line or two
I'm fine baby, how are you?
Well I would send them but I know that it's just not enough
My words were cold and flat
And you deserve more than that

Another aerorplane
Another sunny place
I'm lucky I know
But I wanna go home
Mmmm, I've got to go home

Let me go home
I'm just too far from where you are
I wanna come home

And I feel just like I'm living someone elses life
It's like I just stepped outside
When everything was going right
And I know just why you could not
Come along with me
But this was not your dream
But you always believed in me

Another winter day has come
And gone away
And even Paris and Rome
And I wanna go home
Let me go home

And I'm surrounded by
A million people I
Still feel alone
Oh, let go home
Oh, I miss you, you know

Let me go home
I've had my run
Baby, I'm done
I gotta go home
Let me go home
It will be all right
I'll be home tonight
I'm coming back home

to the 80s kids

most of you read the fwd email on what it means to be an 80s kid. this is my rendition of what it means to be an 80s kid.

1. you know what nkotb stands for. and you still remember "Hanging Tough".

2. you used to wear baggy blouses, tights and leg warmers. not to mention the unimaginable amount of gel on your hair. and big shoulder pads. thick makeup. "punk" hairdo was in.

3. the silver screen males who ruled the day were tom cruise (remember top gun?), kirk cameron, michael j fox, ralph macchio, scott baio, tony danza, rob lowe. not to forget, johnny made his debut in 21 jump street that made all the girls swoon. the queen of teenage movies was molly ringwald who acted in "pretty in pink" and "sixteen candles".

4.you remember madonna as a marilyn monroe wannabe in her platinum blonde hairdo. not to mention her infamous bustier. and you sang to "material girl" and "papa dont preach".

5.favourite hangout would be the mcdonalds. tea dances were famous back then.

6.atari was a famous form of entertainment. vcr made its appearance.

7.you remember datuk shah rezza not as a wedding planner but as a young actor. as with ziela jalil who wore a very revealing ensemble in "tarzan rimba". you know ogy in ali setan and suara kekasih.

8.the late sudirman was malaysia's top entertainer. the late seha was a healthy young woman who sang "mulanya di sini"with her band. zainal was with headwind, amy with search and acis with gersang.

9.you know the tune of "true" by spandau ballet. you love a-ha's take on me. glory of love was the most romantic song, with the girls wishing that ralph macchio would fight for their honour.

10. you remember michael jackson when he was "natural".

11.sitcoms of the day were family ties, growing pains, the cosby show and facts of life. the tv shows not to be missed - dynasty, the colbys and 21 jump street.

12. you know freddy kruger. you know mahoney in police academy. you love the goonies and the soundtrack cyndi lauper sang for the film.

13. breakdance was introduced and became the craze.

bigotry versus wisdom

in Midnight's Children, Saleem Sinai claims that he is the sum of all the people around him and the people before him. simply put, he means that a person's personality is constructed based on experience gained from being in a community. as for me, what i'm going to write is based on what i've learned in my literature classes, my extensive readings in cultural theories and obviously, my experience in life.

what induces me to write this piece is the film shown on HBO today, entitled "Higher Learning" with the cast that include tyra banks, the guy in Barber Shop and Dr foreman in House. the setting is, as the film suggests, an institution of higher learning, and the main issue brought to centrestage is racism - between the white supremacy and the blacks.

no, i'm not going to write about racial divide. i just want to talk about bigotry. in the dictionary, bigotry refers to the state of the mind of a bigot, one who holds his opinions and prejudices steadfastly. in the movie, a white boy believes in his supremacy over the blacks, just because of his skin colour, never mind that he is not doing well in in studies compared to the black boy.

the question of supremacy has everything to do with binary opposites of Self and Other, the oppressor and the oppressed, and the coloniser and the colonised. when there is a self, there is always an other, that is, when there is one who controls, there is always one who is controlled.

traditionally, we hear the story frm the perspective of the Self, but recently with the advent of postcolonial and feminist theories, we hear the voices from the Other, the oppressed who fights for the change of position of power in the social group.

well then, if we have such theories which write back to the oppressor and try to change the status quo, what's the point of writing about bigotry? because bigotry is alive and kicking. it is not only about racial divide, it's also about beliefs. bigotry can cause many mischiefs, some even go as far as catastrophic level that banishes good will. a bigot is convinced that his actions are correct, eventhough they are not. and to make it worse, we've been taught to stand up for ourselves and so we're in the age where everybody is heard, and one who believes will stamp his foot down. this makes a bigot dangerous, for a bigot is always led to rash actions , more often than not these actions are accompanied with abusive words. unfortunately though, nobody is perfect, and it is not up to us to judge someone. certainly not by a bigot.

which brings us to wisdom, the Other of bigotry. wisdom cant be learned, it is earned. it is through experience, observation and learning that we acquire wisdom. wisdom is usually associated with maturity, hence the portrayal of wise old men with long beards in fantasy fictions such as Gandalf, Belgarath and Dumbledore. however, i've met younger people who are wise beyond their years, which proves that wisdom does not come with age. wisdom leads not only to acceptance, openness and tolerance, but also a moment of pause for reflection before making any actions.

at the end of the movie, an uneasy peace is shown between the black boy and a white girl, a symbol of tolerance and acceptance. the movie ends with 1 word "unlearn".

The Annual Hi Tea

we had our annual hi tea at primula today.it was a success, if i may say so, what with us the committee members working very hard to get sponsors, so that all the teachers would bring back not one gift, but 3, and those who are really lucky would get 4. the grand prize was a 3 day 2 nite stay at aryani resort, which was won by mr phang, whom i think is appropriate, given his retirement and all.

it all started early in the morning, when while trodding the rain sodden road, i nearly spoiled my carlo rino pumps. the male comm members were already loading the bags and the 134 gifts into cikgu zaki's mpv, while phiza and i made our way to top of the world. there, the staff was just starting to arrange the tables and chairs, while the rest of us had to sweat (the airconditioning unit had just been switched on) arranging all the 134 prizes according to chronological order.

at 1.30, the comm were all there, and it all began when the teachers started arriving, the men in their baju melayu n sampin n songkok (the works) and the women in their glittering ensemble. the main event was, of course, the makan part, and because the teachers were told in whispers that there's a grand prize, and the fact that everybody would be lucky, the lucky draw was also the main attraction. it's no joke, having to find all the prizes and pooled them at the stage, but that's what we did. anyway, yours truly won a china casserole dish, something that i truly like, considering that i like to buy anything to do with cooking or dining. anyway, it's been a tiring day.

tomorrow we'll have 2 makan2.... the 1st is the breakfast in my staffroom - nasi lemak, lontong and laksa penang. i've already baked chocolate chip apple cake and now my marble cheesecake is in the oven. and... in the afternoon, the koperasi will hold a luncheon. *sigh*... ah abundance, abundance!

A Reflection

it's funny how our perceptions change as we grow older. as kids we think of life differently, we see certain things as something majestic or grand. i used to remember a relative's house being big when i was 6, but during last raya, i saw that it was just like any other ordinary house.

and so our perceptions in life are constantly changed, by people around us, by what we read, by what we think. i must say that i've come a long way from that little girl of 6.

i was born the youngest, and has always looked to others for approval. this has become a part of my identity, being the pleaser, until lately, when i've come into the full circle of myself. my identity. i went through one of the most difficult times in my life, and i was forced to make some tough decisions.

some may think that i've changed, some even called me not-so-nice names, but they failed to see that i've evolved. i dont follow the herd anymore, i m done with being a pleaser. i've a brain to think, and i think what's best for me. sometimes God lets us learn the most valuable lessons through hardships. although i'm now 33, i only found out that there are those who think that they're in the right therefore they can judge, but then, they forget that they themselves are no saints, and therefore are in no position to condemn someone. i also learnt that the length of years doesnt make someone know you better, sometimes a person who has only known you for months knows you better than your long time friends. i also found that true and good friends dont judge you, they are there for you. they dont call you names either. i learnt that sometimes it is best to keep quiet, because a word might set off a fire.

i believe that this happens to everyone at some point of his or her life. the dawn of recognition. the coming of age. the end of the innocence, the beginning of wisdom.

it s just that i grew up.

raya pics