Al-Khaadem Youth Camps

Al-Ustaz Haji Hussein Yee, Founder of Al-Khaadem

Al-Khaadem - Introduction

Those of you living in Klang Valley would probably have heard of Pertubuhan Al-Khaadem, a charity-based Islamic NGO established in 1984 by well-known Hadith scholar, Al-Ustaz Hussein Yee.

Al-Khaadem means 'Serving Mankind' and it was established to reflect Islam's compassion and to do charity work among the underprivileged and the needy. Headquartered in Kampung Kayu Ara, Petaling Jaya, Al-Khadem is run by volunteers.

Its founder, Al-Ustaz Haji Hussein Yee, was born and raised as a Buddhist but embraced Islam at the age of 18. Upon conversion, he pursued studies at the University of Madinah in Saudi Arabia where he majored in Hadith. He joined Perkim, an organisation that looks after the well-being of new converts, upon his graduation in 1978.

Six years later, with a group of like-minded friends, Ustaz Hussein embarked on the Pertubuhan Al-Khaadem project, with the aim of fostering a peaceful and harmonious existence between mankind regardless of race, colour or creed.

I first found myself in the sphere of Al-Khaadem in the early 1990s when I was introduced to it by my former sister-in-law, Datin Sofwanah Abdul Rahman (Kak Nah). A lady of too much leisure then, she was actively involved in the activities of Perkim, and had wanted me to be a part of Perkim in view of my public relations business and connections.

Over the years I had followed Kak Nah to many of Ustaz Hussein's Islamic discourse. I enjoyed listening to Ustaz Hussein simply because his lectures and talks were conducted in English. As such, his sessions always drew good crowds, mostly from the corporate sector.

He was also a favourite speaker/teacher amongst the non-Malaysian Muslim students pursuing their respective studies in local universities. One could find many such students, especially from International Islamic University Malaysia (UIAM), at his lectures.

I lapsed on my Al-Khaadem commitment for a few years but picked it up again last year at the behest of a friend. Unfortunately, I have not been consistent with my presence; my attendance is, at best, spotty.

Upon my return from the Hajj, my youngest daughter Nawwar, 24, made the startling decision to trade all her fashionable togs for the hijjab, to quit her job at the advertising agency and to study both Arabic Language and Islam full-time at Al-Khaadem. She also volunteers at the Foundation. This posting is written at her request.

Al-Khaadem Youth Camp 2009

As in past years, the organisation is again putting together two separate youth camps, for teenage boys and girls, in conjunction with the school term break. This year's camps, however, are eco-based and coincide with Ma'al Hijrah.

The youth camp for boys will be held at the Endau-Rompin National Park from 17th to 20th December 2009. Programmes for the four-day camp include Night Walk, River Crossing, Jungle Trekking and Treasure Hunt, apart from motivational & inspirational talks and team-building. Special guests will be Sheikh Hussein Yee and Sheikh Feiz Muhammad.

It is open to boys age 12 and above, at an all-inclusive RM350 per person. Closing date for application is 7th December.

Al-Khaadem is also looking for individuals or corporations willing to sponsor orphans and underprivileged children to join the camp. There will be 15 boys from the Al-Khaadem Home of Hope, five of whom have found sponsorship. The boys of Home of Hope come from multi-ethnic, multi-religious background.

Those interested to sponsor a child can contact Brother Mateen (012-2470749) or Brother Shahril (019-3196005) or check out the Al-Khaadem website at http://www.al-khaadem.com.my/ for details. The Al-Khaadem office number is 03-7726 4146.

Banaat Eco Camp 2009

This three-day Islamic environmental camp organised by Al-Khaadem is open to girls age 12 and above. It will be held from 18th to the 20th of December at the Forest Reserve Institute of Malaysia (FRIM), in Kepong, Selangor.

The three-day camp offers participants an opportunity to experience nature, while at the same time learning more about youth and Islam. As with the camp for boys, Al-Khaadem will also be bringing 15 girls from the Home of Hope to participate in the eco camp.

All 15 have, Alhamdulillah, found sponsors. Application, however, is still open to any girl above 12 who wants the experience of camping in the flora and fauna of one of Malaysia's oldest forest reserves. The cost is RM250 per person (all inclusive) and closing date for application is 7th of December.

Bo Lah Awe...

Jemaah Haji Malaysia daripada maktab kami semasa menziarahi medan Perang Uhud dipinggir Kota Mekah. Syahdu melihat perkuburan para Syuhada terutama tempat bersemadinya Saiyyidina Hamzah, bapa saudara Rasulullah saw, yang gugur di peperangan tersebut.

[Bo Lah, dalam loghat Kelantan bermaksud Cukuplah. Ertikata Bahasa Inggeris yang paling hampir mungkin enough is enough. Marilah kita merenung bersama halatuju kita sebagai saudara seagama. Yang penting: politik diketepikan, ibadah diutamakan]

Kadangkala saya rasa dosa diri ini bertambah-tambah pulak sejak dua menjak ni. Musykil jugak bila memikirkannya, lebih-lebih lagi kerana pada hemat saya dosa yang dibuat hanyalah 'dosa kering' semata-mata. Tapi kerisauan tetap menggugat jiwa.

Apa tidaknya, menjelang Hari Wukuf, yang mana di musim Haji ini jatuh pada hari Khamis 26 November, genaplah setahun saya menadah tangan di Arafah, dengan linangan airmata memohon keampunan Ilahi.

Keheningan malam di Muzdalifah dan Mina masih terasa, dan sebak kembali bertakhta di dada bila menghayati saat-saat syahdu mengatur langkah-langkah kecil mengelilingi Kaabah yang suci.

Kalau boleh, diri ini tak mahu lagi mempersiakan sisa-sisa hidup yang sudah menjelang senja ini dengan dosa. Tak kiralah apa jenis dosa sekalipun, apatah lagi dosa besar.

Tapi, saban hari tidak lekang daripada membaca rentetan dan cetusan hati pembicara politik semasa tanahair, baik dari pihak kerajaan maupun pembangkang. Pelbagai isu diperkatakan dan kadangkala bahasa yang digunakan begitu kesat sekali.

Tuduh menuduh, keji mengeji, fitnah memfitnah, maki hamun dan carutan; demi mendokong pegangan politik yang berbeza kita sanggup mencemar maruah diri kita sendiri. Dimana letaknya ketinggian pekerti kita sebagai seorang Muslim?

Pokok pangkalnya saya sekadar membaca; benar atau tidak isi kandung komentar sudah tentu sekali tidak dapat saya pastikan. Andainya fitnah, maka secara tidak langsung terbabitlah saya kerana turut berburuk sangka terhadap sipenama. Inilah dosa kering yang saya maksudkan.

Kenapalah begitu tidak keruan sekali keadaan umat kita sekarang. Bila agaknya kita hendak berbaik-baik sesama kita demi agama, andainya tidak mahu berdamai demi bangsa dan negara?

Adakah politik itu tonggak segala-galanya sehingga kesucian agama tergamak diperlekehkan begitu rupa? Tidak wajarkah kita bersatu demi Ummah? Sesungguhnya, EGO telah meranap dan meruntuhkan akhlak dan aqidah antara kita .....

Budu Power

Terengganu has done it again! For nine consecutive years, the state has achieved the highest percentage of straight As in the Ujian Pencapaian Sekolah Rendah (UPSR) examination in the country.

The State Education Department reported that of the 24,156 candidates who sat for this exam (it used to be called Pepereksaan Darjah Enam during my time), 3,664 scored five As.

This is equivalent to 15.3 per cent of those who sat for it and an almost one per cent jump over last year's 14.4 per cent. What is even more heartening to note is that rural schools were doing much better than urban schools.

My heart swelled with pride upon learning this, not so much because I am Terengganu born-and-bred, but because it shows how much Terengganu, once considered the most backward state in the country (in infrastructure and everything else), has advanced in the realm of education for the young.

It wasn't long ago that Terengganu was Malaysia's own "Hickville", the ultimate boondocks of the ulus. This is not counting charming Kelantan of course, because Kelantan is never ever ulu, just not cut from the same kain semutar, that's all.

Coming from an ulu primary school myself during those long-ago days of the '60s, I can identify with kids like 5A-achiever Mohd Fadli Amin Khairuddin from Sekolah Rendah Kebangsaan Ladang Gajah Mati, 50 kilometres from the nearest town of Dungun.

Now, that distance to the interior from quiet Dungun would definitely place the school in the middle of nowhere, as with two other schools in a 50-km radius to it, SRK Pasir Raja and SRK Terus.

These are all schools with less than 100 pupils but blessed with dedicated teachers who, according to Fadli in a press interview, kept an eagle eye on their academic performance from the very beginning. It is such teachers who make a difference in the lives of these kampung kids.

Today Terengganu is blessed with natural riches, a stable (if squabble-prone) state government (please stop all the bickerings and back-biting and get on with nation-building!) and a populace that no longer considers becoming fishermen is about the only lot for Terengganu men.

They still look seaward today, but only to fish for black gold and not the aquatic specie they were used to. Terengganu is a blessed land indeed ... and I'm feeling extra patriotic lately; must be all those kropok lekor that 'The Malay Mail' reporter Gabey Oh brought back from Kuala Terengganu last week ...

PS: Lest I'm misunderstood, let it be reminded that it's not the string of As I am rejoicing about; it's the fact that the kids of my beloved Terengganu are showing their mettle in a most positive way, by coming out tops and staying there continuously for almost a decade... syabas!

Friday Rant - The Pecker Package

What is it with men, especially married ones, vis-a-vis janda (whatever category she may fit in; single mom, childless, old, young, berhias or otherwise..)? What exactly is a janda's selling point or pulling power?

That she has been through the grind and so knows what 'it' is like and now that she isn't getting any she must be desperate? And so deprived is she that she must be an easy enough lay?

Some years ago, the religious department of a particular Malaysian state put forth a proposal so off-putting that even today it still rankles me to mention it. I came across the article while sorting out my cuttings recently, thus this long-overdue rant.

It had proposed a RM1,000 cash incentive to any man, married or otherwise, willing to take on a janda as a wife. I guess if a man wants to fulfil the four-wife quota, he can marry three at one go and make a tidy RM3,000 at the same time. Good bargain eh?

Whoever came up with this insulting idea should be given a kick in the groin. Please don't counter with the worn argument that it was proposed with the best of intentions. If you have the janda's interest at heart, you would offer the money to her instead, so that she could use it for her family.

For many, if the choice comes down to man or money, they would take the money. What guarantee does the janda and her kids have that their welfare will be taken care of, not when he gets a wife-plus-cash package deal for his pecker without spending a single sen?

Being an alumnae of Jandahood myself, I can tell you with absolute certainty that half the time single moms are so turned off by men that they don't want to have anything to do with them anymore. Of course we all have our own specific reasons for it.

I was on track for single-momhood and wasn't in the least worried about remaining a janda until I breathe my last, when jodoh came a-calling. Whilst it wasn't my call, I accepted what God had in store for me for He Knows Best, and I am thankful to have a kind-hearted man to share my life with in my autumn years.

I read somewhere that spousal abandonment is the main reason for jandahood among Muslim mothers in this country. Simply put, the husband just ups and leaves, leaving the wife to struggle alone. Child support? Not a sen.

And if she goes to Syariah Court to demand child support, she'd better be prepared to wait until her kids finish college before she can get a judgement, if she is lucky, that is. Half the time, that sorry excuse of a father would just ignore court order to present himself, or to pay.

So where does that leave her? The kids still have to be clothed, fed and schooled and the bills still have to be paid. And so the single mom slogs on, alone, getting herself into mounting debts along the way - hutang sana hutang sini - to keep the family afloat.

It's the same old story, then and now. Why is it so hard for these Muslim men to be responsible fathers? It's fine if he no longer wants to see the back of his erstwhile spouse for whatever reason, but those innocent kids are still his...

A Musical Interlude

A chorus of "bravo!" and "encore!" reverberated in Plenary Hall, Kuala Lumpur Convention Centre Sunday evening, as Sean Ghazi and Estee Pook ended their final performance with a rousing rendition of "The Prayer", Andrea Bocelli's famous duet with Celine Dion.

While Pak Abu joined the enthusiastic crowd in asking for an encore, I docked in with the rest of the concert-goers in showing my appreciation by clapping my hands continuously. By any account, it was a fitting finale to a memorable evening.

We were at a charity event, Konsert Amal DiRaja 'Unforgettable', in aid of Alzheimer's Disease Foundation, Malaysia. His Royal Highness the Sultan of Selangor was the guest-of-honour; other royal attendees included the Raja Muda of Perak Raja Nazrin Shah and his consort, Tuanku Zara Salim.

The main draw of the evening was Sean Ghazi, that iconic, LA-based singer-actor famous for his leading roles in several London West End musicals, and his innovative marrying of the haunting melodies of yesteryears with sophisticated classic jazz arrangements.

Guest performers included American virtuoso violinist Jessica Lee, winner of the 2005 Concert Artists Guild International Competition, and celebrated Malaysian soloist Estee Pook, winner of some 80 singing competitions locally and abroad.

They were accompanied by the Kuala Lumpur International Festival Orchestra comprising 66 topnotch musicians - international and local - under the baton of Malaysian-born, New York-based conductor Eugene Pook.

It's been quite a while since we hauled our ample derriere to an orchestral performance. My last was many years back when the Bangkok Symphony Orchestra put up an awesome show in KL in conjunction with the birthday of King Bhumibol.

Konsert Amal DiRaja "Unforgettable" also presented an opportunity for some women to "do the red carpet". A good many of them dressed to kill as they sashayed up and down the auditorium aisles. Evening gowns crowded the floor, many with lots of bare skin and barely-covered boobs.

While waiting for the concert to start and during intermission, I made the most of my time watching exposed cleavages deep and shallow, in direct proportion to knockers of all shapes and sizes.

For us tudung-clad ones, there was so much we could do without compromising our headgear, so fashion had to take a backseat. Since I had to hide my own, I might as well observe other women's jugs. Pak Abu, my partner in 'titty-watching crime', agreed wholeheartedly :)

It was the first time we watched Sean Ghazi's performance in person. In fact, It was the promise of his presence that prompted us to buy the tickets. As a former entertainment writer, I am loath to endorse artistes but Sean Ghazi is a different kettle of fish altogether.

I think of him as a true thespian; he's just as versatile on Broadway as he is on celluloid and in the recording studio. His is the voice of a crooner in the mould of Michael Buble. Small wonder he was given the lead in a major stage musical depicting P. Ramlee not so long ago.

A satisfying musical interlude that really was for us that Pak Abu felt we should make it a habit to check out the Malaysian Philharmonic Orchestra offerings on a monthly basis. Good idea, that...

Kota Baru Revisited

Yours truly flanked by colleagues Yusof & Hisham (to the right) and batik makers Rashidah & Azizah (to the left). PESENI head honcho is Tn Hj Muhamad bin Jusoh (the one in batik) while noted painter Ismail Kadir, whose studio we visited, is the one in yellow.

Our gracious host, the soft-spoken and very obliging Deen - schoolteacher, post-graduate student into his last semester, artist, homestay owner, loving husband and doting father. Thank you for your hospitality, Deen!

KOTA BARU. "Newcastle" of the East, and just as provincial as its British namesake. Charmingly so I thought, as I watched the sunrays peeping through cottony clouds, its reflection glistening on the wing of the Firefly aircraft as it swooped low over the flatlands of Kota Baru, heading towards the airport in Pengkalan Chepa.

It was 8.30 Saturday morning. Aboard the Fokker, my colleagues Hisham and Yusof, and I, were shaking off the remnants of sleep in anticipation of a fruitful day in this well-known northeastern outpost where the populace is among the most parochial in Malaysia.

We were in town for a crucial meeting; our first face-to-face with PESENI, the umbrella for Kelantan artists and painters. Our mission - to present our plan for a major art exhibition involving members of PESENI and other Kelantan artists.

Despite sporadic visits (I was here last in 2001), Kelantan is a place I hold dear in my heart for it is 'kampung tok ayah', hometown of the grandfather I never knew (he died age 25 during the Japanese Occupation, leaving a young widow and 4 small children, the eldest of whom was my late mother).

Thus this trip, brief as it were, was almost like a homecoming of sort, even if there was no one waiting for me. There were relatives aplenty in KB for sure; aunts in Taman Guru, cousins in Jalan Sultanah Zainab and Lorong Tok Semian, an uncle in Jalan Bayam, other kin in Pasir Mas and Kuala Krai.

It's just that time did not permit social calls. Ours was a day trip and there were many things that needed to be accomplished within that short period of time. Much as I wanted to meet my relatives, such social calls had to wait. I have to come back, hopefully soon, to do the needful.

From my window seat, I could discern Kelantan River, with its thick yellow 'teh tarik' hue, snaking sluggishly towards South China Sea in the far distance. Dotting the scene were patches of water yet undrained, for the floods had just receded.

We were met at the airport by Cikgu Mazeri (Deen), he of my art piece "Buoh Seto TokMa" fame. He had gamely taken on the quadruple role of host, guide, chauffeur & chaperone for the day in the absence of Pok Zawi, who was indisposed.

He took us to a kedai makan just yards away from our meeting venue. There, Hisham and Yusof went adventurous with 'nasi pagi' and 'pulut manis' for breakfast, while I stuck to tried and tested 'nasi lemak'. Actually my eyes were eyeing the 'pulut inti', but I dared not overeat!

Then it was on to the main business of the day. The two-hour meeting, held at the State Tourism Office, was cordial. Many issues were raised and discussed. Generally speaking, PESENI was agreeable to our presentation and terms. Barring unforeseen circumstances, we would be back for the MoU signing in December.

Two smiling 'makciks' joined the meeting as we were about to begin. Pn Azizah and Pn Rashidah, both voluble and very charming, were on the PESENI committee and I learned they were noted batik makers in Kelantan.

As we fell into conversation later, I was pleasantly surprised to find out that the duo, who were sisters, were first cousins of my late mother (their mom and my maternal grandfather were siblings). What a wonderful coincidence indeed!

I only knew their other sister whom I call Makcik Nora (mother to Johan Nawawi the well-known composer) and her late husband, Ayahcik Nawawi. Nora and Nawawi were first cousins too; as such I am related to them twice over. Now in her late 60s, Makcik Nora was a portrait painter of national repute in her younger days.

A hearty and hefty 'nasi ulam' lunch at a popular restaurant adjacent to the building concluded the discussion. There were ikan patin dishes and crispy sembilang and budu that just blew my dieting away. Oh, well...

A visit to the house-cum-studio of well-established Kelantanese artist Ismail Kadir followed. We were told his works had fetched good prices, in the realm of tens of thousands of ringgit. Whilst the bachelor lived in such artistic disarray, the walls of his two-storey bungalow were covered with some of the most captivating paintings I had ever seen.

We moved on to Deen's spanking new abode in Pasir Mas 30 minutes away to freshen up and rest awhile. Stepping into Deen's house was like entering a new art gallery. His paintings, bright and cheerful (except for one in sombre black and green), were everywhere, and one particular creation actually would look more at home in the concourse of a corporate office building.

Deen's wife Haslina, a trained counsellor, had graciously prepared some desserts for us. After having our fill, I excused myself for solat and a brief shut-eye in the guest bedroom. I was too full, to the point of lethargy, to do anything else!

Around 3.30pm we bid Deen's family adieu and took off to visit Pok Zawi at his house some five-minute drive away. Pok Zawi was temporarily house-bound due to gout, all because he just couldn't resist food that was forbidden to him during a kenduri the night before (tsk tsk tsk!).

The last lap before going to the airport was a stopover at Pasar Siti Khadijah and Plaza Buluh Kubu, the two 'must-go' shopping stops in KB. The former is a market for fresh produce and foodstuff while the latter offers mostly traditional items like batik, songket, handicrafts and such.

I ended up with serunding, dodol, lempuk durian, brooches, batiks and shawls. What actually stopped me from buying more was the non-availability of ATM machines in the vicinity; you have to walk quite a distance to the nearest bank.

The flight home was rough. I think we were riding turbulence for a better part of the one-hour journey. I still managed a snooze, though. All those walking had really pooped me out. We disembarked into a slight drizzle and got home safely by 9pm, exhausted but happy nonetheless, that all went well as planned.

PS: Thank you too, Deen, for your gift of a 'wayang kulit' puppet. A good conversation piece, that one...

Of Titty & A Shower of 'Babies'

Took an early morning drive to KLIA today to send daughter Ann, who was leaving for Tokyo after being summoned to appear as a witness in a Japanese court case. The occupational hazard of a reporter, as always. She'll be back Friday. Hello Titty visiting the land of Hello Kitty? Ahak!

As luck would have it, ran into Ana, the fourth of my five sisters, at the airport. She was bound for Johore Baru to attend a function. Ana, the sole academician among us siblings, is attached to UiTM Shah Alam, where she lectures business and entrepreneurship.

Also met her daughter Amirah who drove her to the airport. Glad to note Mira is looking better than the last time we saw her. The 24 year-old college grad is currently undergoing chemotherapy for cancer, having lost a leg to the accursed disease four years ago.

This little bundle is Kayden Riley Stewart, the latest addition to my sister Idah's family. Born to Idah's daughter Amilda and hubby Sabran Gary Stewart in Cleveland, Ohio, two weeks ago, Kayden's their firstborn. So Grandma Idah lost no time in flying to Ohio, to be with her new (and second) cucu.

And this is MY own baby, a spanking new laptop, a birthday present from Pak Abu. Thank you, Pa. I promise to be a bit more rajin in updating my blog.. hehehe..

Here's another new 'baby', from me to me, purchased at the Pahang Art Exhibition on the last day of the event Friday. Thank you Mamasita for taking the trouble to reserve it for me (it could have travelled to Washington DC in Ambassador Datuk JJ's consignment otherwise).

"Rambutan" is a beauty to behold. With the forthcoming Kelantan Art Exhibition, I am hoping to expand my visual fruit orchard to include more varieties of buah-buahan..

And last but not least, here's the fifty-something "Golden Girls" as well as those not-quite-golden-yet girls lineup. From left: Mamasita, NanaDJ, Kama, Zendra, Desert Rose, Ezza and cutiepie Kay_Leeda. Thank you ladies for the pleasant birthday surprise. Blogger Edelweiss had left by this time; tak sempat bergambar together..

Baby, Baby Don't Get Hooked On Me....

The other day I had a go at Carpenters' timeless classic "For All We Know", the first time I had sung that song in over 30 years. I was pleasantly surprised to find I could still recall the lyrics with ease.

Way back in the late 60s and early 70s, that song, along with a few other hits by Carpenters and Anne Murray, was a staple in my meagre repertoire as a teenage vocalist in a small-town band in Dungun.

We sang a lot of Malay numbers then, only because our most frequent gigs were weddings. It was only when we had the occasional opportunity to perform on stage in public, usually as a prelude to some government-sponsored concerts, that English numbers, mostly those by The Beatles and Bee Gees, saw the light of day.

I remember only too well why I quit singing "For All We Know"; it was the ex's "theme song" with his Aussie girlfriend, the one he had harboured hopes of marrying. Circumstances saw that hope dashed, and he returned home alone upon completing his studies.

He came clean about it, but only when I found her photograph with the lyrics scribbled behind it, while sorting out his piles of books and things. Long after we parted ways, I still balked at singing that song, until last week. Perhaps it was a closure of some sort.

I am pretty sure we all share similar experiences when we were young and carefree and madly in love. Many of us would have had our own special songs, usually those saccharine-sweet, sentimental love ballads that had the innate ability to turn the best of us into blathering fools.

And then, when for some reasons the relationship came to grief, we found that we just couldn't bear to hear that special 'our song' anymore without feeling like strangling the erstwhile suitor or the singer, or both.

All through my colourful life, only two songs had affected me so, and for markedly different reasons. Besides "For All We Know", there was a pointed reminder in the form of Mac Davis' somewhat selfish "Baby, Baby Don't Get Hooked On Me."

Here's an interesting take on that second tune; I met the one-time steady again two years ago after a lapse of 36 years (we dated briefly at the tail end of 1973). It was a chance meeting at a golf club; I was attending the wedding of a niece and he was checking out the club membership with a view of becoming one.

A recently-retired army general, the Datuk, now with grandkids, looked as spiffy as ever. We had a good laugh over our brief and completely innocent courtship. He was then my eldest brother's best buddy, thus toed the line religiously (or risk bodily harm, I'd think!)

Come to think of it, maybe that was why he finally called it quit; that friendship with the brother had left him with no room for 'creative maneuverings' with the sister! Dumped me he did, for "Miss Chinatown" no less (and I kid you not).

Months before giving me the boot, however, he started playing "Baby, Baby, Don't Get Hooked On Me" each time we got together. A good strategist he was; at 21, he was preparing my 19 year-old heart for the inevitable breakup.

This may sound laughable by today's standard, but our courtship was conducted almost entirely under the watchful eyes of his parents and two sisters. They were extremely nice people for sure, and I guess they wanted only the best for their only son and brother.

We would sit together and play his records on the turntable, and I would join them for meals before he sent me home to my aunt's at the prescribed hours, and not a minute longer. That was how chaste the whole courtship was; small wonder he felt so stifled.

Being dumped was not a pleasant thing to happen to anyone and at any age, more so if the 'dumper' was your brother's best friend. But losing out to a pliable beauty queen proved to be a lot less painful than I had imagined; perhaps because I wasn't ready to be a 'big girl' any time soon....

The Week That Was

Mom and the boys at Red Box Monday. Pak Abu's behind the camera...

My very able Wonderwoman executive, Zira, manning the fort at the Federation dinner Wednesday.

Birthday girl Ann, new hairstyle all, flanked by colleague Fuzzie (left) and sister Awwa (right) at her birthday do Saturday.

FIRST of all, an apology is due for the slack in updating my blog. Believe me, it wasn't intentional. I had wanted to write and write, and there were so many things to scribble about, to comment upon.

Unfortunately, the mind was preoccupied with work and by the time Saturday approached, migraine conveniently took over. Suffice to say it effectively and spectacularly screwed up my weekend.

Yours truly's wargamas landmark which fell on Sunday last week was celebrated with a simple dinner with fellow senior citizen, Pak Abu, at our favourite Italian joint, La Risatta, in Medan Damansara. Monday night saw the family giving Mom a karaoke treat at Red Box, Mid-Valley.

Tuesday was packed to the brim with last-minute preparations for a gala dinner to be held the following day. The event, organised by the Federation of Public Listed Companies, Malaysia, was to honour the media. As FPLC's public relations "achi", I had to take the lead in organising.

The heavens opened on Wednesday afternoon, giving me the shivers about attendance. Knowing city folks as it were, I was afraid invitees would be deterred by the possibility of massive traffic crawls that they would decide not to come at all.

Thank God turn up they all did - we had a full house - but (there's always a "but" lurking in there somewhere...) the performers arrived at 6 pm instead of 3 pm as earlier planned. As such, the dry run flew out the window, pissing me off no end for I was deprived of an opportunity to give the whole event, including my emceeing, a run-through.

At times like this I thank my 20 years of experience in this line; scribbling notes at the last minute, ad-libbing my way to suit the occasion. I so much dislike unpreparedness for it offers too many opportunities to screw up.

Thankfully, everything went well (err, there was a slight glitch in the final dance performance when the music inadvertently stopped halfway, leaving the dancers flapping like lost chicken looking for their mother hen, but who's complaining?)

Somehow I felt those dancers scored points with that faux pas. I think the girls' outlandish (and skimpy) 'samba' attire with multi-coloured feathers, heavily-sequined boleros and God knows some other fancy stuffs they had up the ropol-ropol sleeves (they could have hidden a ferret or two in there and I wouldn't have been any wiser), were enough entertainment for guests.

Thankfully too, the Tan Sri president didn't chew my head off about the slip-up. And that he accepted the speech that I had prepared for him, verbatim. I guess he was being a good sport. Perhaps he too found the whole ridiculous scenario entertaining enough.

I thought I could take it easy Thursday; then I remembered my team had scheduled a meeting with PESENI (Association of Kelantan Artists) member Pak Zawi, to brief him about the forthcoming art exhibition that we are planning for PESENI.

Pak Zawi was returning to Kelantan after spending two weeks nannying his grandson in KL, so it made sense to brief him of the preliminary development so he could inform his fellow members upon his return. My team and I will be going to Kelantan soon to make a proper presentation to the association.

Thankfully, Friday was rather quiet. With my nose out of joint, all I wanted to do was sleep (which was what I did, incidentally, with Lillie curled at my feet). Blogging was out; much like Bukit Besi's decrepit iron-ore wagon train (keretapi lipang), the mind had stalled. It simply refused to regurgitate words.

A slight headache greeted Saturday; I instinctively knew it was going to be a bad day. But there was another meeting to attend, in Putrajaya this time. So off we went, praying hard it wouldn't be a convoluted one (it was short and sweet, thank God for His little mercies).

By noon my nagging headache had turned into a full-blown migraine. My migraine episodes, just like pyrotechnic shows, have always been spectacular - the endless throbbing and continuous puke sessions, the hot-cold-hot again-cold again sensation, the neck pain, the blurry vision...

Half the time I would sit up with arms encircling a pail, for hours sometimes, just so I could empty my gut. At times like these, all I prayed for was to pass out cold and wake up a day later with a clearer head.

That night the entire family celebrated Ann's birthday at Italiannis in One Utama without me. While they were merrily feasting on zuppe, spaghetti, gnocchi, lasagna, tiramisu and whatever else they had there, I was holed up in semi-darkness in the bedroom, wallowing in self-pity.

To conclude a sorely imperfect evening, Pak Abu got home on foot. The car wouldn't start! Luckily One Utama is just 15 minutes away (a brisk walk) from home. He forgot there were jumper cables in the boot...

Anyway, the car's back home. Everything's fine and dandy once again. For now. Let's see what this week brings. The way things go, I can bet my bottom ringgit there will be more hilarity in store for my good readers (at our expense, of course...sighhh)


PS: Caught Kak Teh 'live' on TV1 Sunday morning in the "Apa Kata Wanita" (What Women Say) programme. She was interviewed via skype in this week's segment about "Women In Journalism." Looked like she could use some sleep, the poor dear...