KRI LEARNS TO BLOG!

Tuesday, September 28, 2004

The Back Forty


Just to show you my postcard-perfect backyard. We mow the lawn twice a year using giant harvesters :) Posted by Hello

But if you look closely, you'll see the bald patch up on the hill in the background where they're using huge machinery and explosives to blow up the hill. For the next 20 years! I've written earlier about my village making it to prime TV when heavy rainfall brought down sludge, rocks and debris into the river and into our living rooms. Please click here to more pictures of the damage.

Friday, September 24, 2004

You Are Here


For those who haven't heard of the place before. Posted by Hello
The greatest place on earth. Kri lives here.

Tuesday, September 21, 2004

Add Some Water and Heat Gently...

The class reunion brought up some fond memories of the school which I shared with fellow ex-classmates and their families that night. Not that we are getting more senile but many have forgotten the funny details.

During our first English Composition lesson in Remove Class (1967), the teacher, Mr Chan Teng Hong, read to us works of previous students. These examples were NOT for us to follow, for instance the one that went: "On Hari Raya day, I second hand with my father."

Those who understood enough English laughed. Those who didn't, yours truly included, laughed too but didn't really get what the joke was all about. But that night at the Bukit Merah gathering, everyone laughed their heads off.

The original author was a senior from Baling, Kedah. In the North, we informally use seken, a corrupted form of "shake hands" instead of the formal Malay bersalaman. The poor guy must have anglicised it further into second-hand! Of course, "Hari Raya day" was wrong too; we only realised that later in Form Four.

And in Form Four, Solahuddin was caught napping during Physics class. The teacher threw a question to him and our friend Solah, still not completely out of slumber, looked left and right for assistance. Yusuf Mahmud who was sitting on his right whispered something and Solah confidently bellowed out: "Add some water and heat gently, sir!"

That brought the whole class down, including the Physics teacher. After regaining his composure, the teacher congratulated Solah for coming out with a common answer to all science questions!

Monday, September 20, 2004

Class of '72 Reunion

It has to be my best weekend ever. I attended our annual class reunion at the Bukit Merah Lake Resort near Taiping, Perak on Saturday and thoroughly enjoyed the gathering. I have not been attending all the recent reunions, so there was a lot of fuss and laughter during registration. Everyone is turning 50 this year so we have some problems recognizing each other, what with added beards, wrinkles, pot bellies and reduced hair, teeth, and eyesight.

Many of us stood outside the reception to welcome new arrivals. A friend, who had registered earlier, and I had a lot of fun guessing who the guys were and many couldn't quite place me because of my gray beard and darker skin tone. That went on until all attendees were duly registered and I still couldn't remember what this guy's name was (but were afraid to ask).

It was during dinner that night and after much table-hopping that I found out his name was Iskandar! So while having a puff on the lakeside deck that night I confessed to him that I couldn't recall what his name was until just then.

And if we weren't too old for pranks, I would've ended up in the lake!

Friday, September 17, 2004

Cool Guy, Grumpy Looks

That was just me having fun with Photoshop. The picture on my profile, I mean. Many find it funny because of the traditional head dress, the tanjak. The best remark so far has got to be the one from Beta-Blogger: "... because your tanjak looks so stern, and the kris, threatening."

LOL. Happens to me all the time. I remember when I was working in KL, my female co-workers would confess after knowing me for about a week that they were afraid of me before. They thought I was ogling at them! Of course I denied it vehemently. Maybe I was but I always blamed my eyes for sending the wrong signals. Funny how ladies don't really mind you ogling at them if they know you personally.

But really, I'm not as grumpy as I look. I tell jokes among friends, I do all sorts of crazy things and I even do the bhangra at home in front of the kids. Only the bhangra part, not the crazy things.
-------------------------------------
I'm heading south for the weekend. The old boys are meeting somewhere in Taiping for a class reunion. Would be fun to find out how old and grumpy everyone has become! :)

Wednesday, September 15, 2004

Dear Diary, I'm Sick!

Read in the papers yesterday that keeping diaries can make you sick. According to the report, writing down your feelings, especially unhappy ones, tend to make you even sadder and eventually you can end up in hospital!

But the researchers admitted they forgot to find out if the subjects they were observing were already sick before they started writing in their diaries.

And they didn't mention blogs. (LOL. Yes, I can hear your sighs of relief!)

Tuesday, September 14, 2004

Found: Azlan Adnan

Cyberspace is indeed a small and weird place. Some years ago, I managed to track down some long lost relatives. I found a name that looked familiar while surfing the 'Net and I shot him this email: "Roslan, if your mother is so-and-so and your father is so-and-so, then I'm your Uncle." That started a series of emails from Mercedes and Houston and I was glad I was able to convey to them of Hassan's passing in October, 2001.

Then I started blogging and I love reading other people's stuff. Following the links on their blogs, I came across a very wicked blog written by a guy I met briefly when I was working in KL. As it turns out, every member of the family blogs too! I found out later that we both like Inul Daratista (oh, she's just a girl, you don't have to know who she is or what she does best) and that he was my senior at school in Ipoh. Very much senior; very small world.

And following links on his blog, I came across this guy: Azlan Adnan. I met Azlan once in KL through a mutual friend, Zabri, ages ago. Through Zabri, I have borrowed one of his books which I have been keeping with me ever since. Not because I like to keep other people's things (although I wouldn't mind keeping this one) but because I don't know where they are. I have been moving around so much that I simply lost all contact with both of them.

I'm going to email him tonight: "Azlan, I've got your book..." and see if he freaks out.

Saturday, September 11, 2004

Go East, Young Man! :: Part II

SEBERANG TAKIR ON MY MIND

When I got off at the Kuala Trengganu bus terminal, my classmate Nasir Majid was already there waiting for my arrival. Another Nasir, but the two of them were miles apart in many ways. We were later joined by Syed Yusuf who lived somewhere in town. The two of them gave me a brief tour of the town, perhaps saving the better sights for later. Kuala Trengganu then was a quaint seaside town with old buildings and narrow streets. That was all I could remember of the town as impressions of subsequent return visits have sort of, in computerese, overwritten the old files.

(For a better description of the town and life in those days or earlier, you just have to read Di Bawah Rang Ikang Kering or Jalan-Jalan!)

Nice town nevertheless, but I subsequently realised that my fake Kelantanese dialect was of little use here. I concluded that the only way to survive and have meaningful conversations in this town was to switch to the usual southern dialect, and add the obligatory g's after words ending in m and n.

Next, we went to the jetty to take a boat to Seberang Takir. A boat ride, how exciting! Seberang Takir is not an island but a village on the other bank of the rivermouth, so the quickest way to get there is by boat even though the village can be reached by other forms of land transport. So Nasir and I hopped on a waiting boat and I braced myself for the boat ride of my life.

As the boat moved away from the jetty I observed that the rim of the wooden boat at where I was sitting was only inches from the water. And as it gained more speed, sprays of seawater began to come in, wetting the legs of my jeans and the floor. I began to look around making mental notes of the things that can be used as flotation devices, just in case. The other passengers didn't seem to be worried at all, their faces as bored as those seen on city buses. Halfway through the trip, waves from the South China Sea began to be felt as the boat rocked about. That was no place for a cowardly landlubber like me so I told Nasir that maybe we should've taken the taxi instead as I held tight to the seat.

After what I thought was an eternity, we arrived at the Seberang Takir jetty. Ah, land at last! Was I ever so glad to climb up that jetty. There was a wakaf at the end of the jetty where some men were engaged in what seemed to be the major male diversion in the East Coast -- playing draughts and watching people play draughts.

Nasir's house was only a short walking distance from the jetty and his parents were already on their verandah waiting for us when we arrived. His mom made us some tea and we sat in a circle dunking biscuits in the fragrant tea as I told them about my family and my village. And all that while, Nasir's kid sister -- a very pretty girl with fine brownish hair, a family trait -- would just sit behind her mother and smile without saying a word at my exaggerated stories.

The next day, I got to see how the famous kropok lekor was made. Nasir's mom, sister and some helpful neighbours were gathered in the kitchen to make that unique Trengganu specialty. I reckoned those meter long concoctions were not very pretty to look at so we went out to explore the village. Of course, there was nothing much to see so we went to see the most exciting thing in the village: people playing draughts in the wakaf!

When we got back to the house, the ladies had set up a stall in front of the house, selling freshly fried kropok to the village folks. Nasir's mother gave us a plate of kropok with some home-made chili sauce to eat and we sat on the verandah enjoying what I thought was the best kropok in the world. Of course, I had never eaten the thing before in my life. Later, Nasir's sister made some fragrant tea to wash the kropok down. She was, as usual, smiling without saying a word. There was an unwritten law about falling for your friend's kid sister, so I didn't entertain the romantic thoughts and channel all that energy at the task at hand -- the fried kropok.

That night I saw a lot of lights at sea and I asked Ustaz Majid, Nasir's father what was happening out there. He told me that the fishermen were catching squids; the lights were used to attract the mollusks to the surface and they would just scoop them into the boats. The following day we had, well, what else but, squids for lunch. They were the biggest I have ever seen on a lunch plate, each about the size of a small mineral water bottle. The squids, stuffed with glutinous rice, were served in a white sauce. I didn't know that at first and thought the stuffing were squid eggs, much to the amusement of my hosts.

Once, we went to Rantau Abang to watch turtles laying eggs. To get in the right mood, we sat in a food stall and ordered nasi lemak with boiled turtle eggs. The nasi lemak was fine but trying to force down the gooey thing down your throat was a real endeavour. After the meal, we joined the crowd at turtle ogling. I couldn't see all the fuss about turtles laying eggs; after two or three eggs I moved away from the crowd and went to rest in the sand instead for the rest of the night.

One night, Nasir told me that he was taking me to a movie after dinner. The nearest cinema hall was of course in KT. I told him that we should just go the next day as I don't fancy taking a boat ride at night. He told me that we would be watching the movie in the village itself. Right, a fishing village with a cinema, I thought. I didn't remember seeing a building in the village big enough to be used as a cinema. Anyway, after dinner I just tagged along with him until we came to an enclosure made of corrugated zinc. That was the village cinema!

We paid eighty sen for two tickets and entered the roofless enclosure. There were rows of coconut logs for seats and each log could seat about ten people with enough elbow room. Of course, it was free seating; so we sat down in anticipation, without the slightest idea of what was going to be shown. When there were enough people squatting on the coconut logs, the movie came on the screen and everybody cheered. I didn't remember the title but it was an old Hindi movie which we enjoyed very much, given the circumstances.

I was beginning to blend in with the locals when my one week was up. We would have to take the bus from Kuala Trengganu and join the others to board the train at Kota Bharu, Kelantan. Somehow the boat ride didn't seem to intimidate me anymore, maybe it was due to the heavy diet of kropok, squids and fresh fish for the past one week. I thanked Nasir's parents profusely for having me and they reminded me to come again. As I was picking up my bags, the kid sister who was not smiling this time said something to me from the verandah. It was "So, you're going already!" or something to that effect in a regretful tone.

She actually spoke! I just smiled dryly not knowing what to say in reply. Whoever invented that unwritten law ...

Wednesday, September 08, 2004

Go East, Young Man! :: Part I

Passionate Cows on the Beach

The East Coast has always fascinated me in many ways -- the lifestyle, the dialect, the food and of course, the ladies too. Reading TMA Bustaman's fine blog on all things 'Ganu brings back memories of my first trip there more than three decades ago.

It was 1971 and I was in Form Four at a residential school in Ipoh then. Form Four was considered as the honeymoon period of secondary schooling, after swotting hard for your LCE (now SRP) the previous year where I earned my gawky glasses and while waiting to furiously hit the books again for your MCE (now SPM) the following year. No, I didn't get good grades for MCE, just thicker glasses. Back to the story, I just thought that I'd push the honeymoon part a bit further by spending my mid-term (now semester) holidays in the East Coast.

As students of a fully-residential school, we were given warrant tickets for group travel by train back to our hometowns. I told my north-bound group leader that I would be smuggling myself to the East Coast so that he could cook up a convincing excuse should there be a head count. But I doubted train ticket inspectors ever counted heads when students from schools all over the country travel on the same day.

So I found myself travelling south to Kuala Lumpur and subsequently east with fellow students from Pahang, Trengganu and Kelantan. Whenever the ticket inspector passed by, I tried to look as innocently stupid as I could. Those gawky glasses helped a lot too. I had been learning the Kelantanese dialect from a close friend, Yusuf Ahmad, while at school. In return, I taught him the Northern dialect. We would switch from dialect to dialect and corrected each other as we went along.

The train ride went without a hitch and we finally got off at Kota Bharu, Kelantan where I would spend the first half of the two-week holiday. I stayed at Nasser Backer's (real name: Mohd Nasir bin Abu Bakar) house in Nilam Puri. His father, the late Senator Abu Bakar Hamzah, was then an ustaz at the Nilam Puri College. It was here that I got to know Nasser's sister, a frail but otherwise very pretty girl who was suffering from leukemia. The poor girl succumbed to her illness and passed away the following year.

I had my first culture shock when I slipped out for a cigarette one day. The Chinese shopkeeper was wearing a sarong and spoke perfect Kelantanese! He asked me where I came from and without hesistation, I answered, "Nee-ley Poo-ri!" And that has been my standard answer whenever anyone asks where in Kelantan am I from ever since. Of course, I'd correct the statement at the end of the conversation by saying that I'm actually from, "Soo-nga Ptanee, Kdoh."

At the end of my stay there, Nasser took me to the famous Pantai Cinta Berahi (now Pantai Cahaya Bulan). Obviously it wasn't tourist season as the whole beach was dotted (I mean big dots!) with cowdung. Not exactly the kind of setting that would invoke Cinta Berahi (passionate love)! It was like walking through a minefield; side stepping here and there to avoid them before you could reach the cleaner part of the beach, which was already too close to the sea. Not wanting to wet my shoes or immerse them in fresh blobs of manure, we went to visit the KB town centre instead.

The whole Abu Bakar family had been very gracious hosts for the whole week I was there. After thanking everyone I boarded the bus to Trengganu. Next stop: Seberang Takir!

Saturday, September 04, 2004

Anwar is Finally Free!

I am not much of a political person, but when the news about Anwar Ibrahim being set free came out, I was pleasantly surprised. Eventhough everyone denied their involvement in his release, I think the Prime Minister has given Malaysia a much awaited Merdeka present. Welcome home, Anwar.

It doesn't matter why they finally did it; this act of compassion is probably the greatest public relations exercise pulled by our new Prime Minister which will be well received by every sane Malaysian and put the country in the right light everywhere. We're now really "standing in the eyes of the world."

Thursday, September 02, 2004

Merdeka Sleep-in

It's Merdeka again! The whole country was celebrating its 47th year of independence from British rule and I was in two minds whether to stay back and join in the merry-making in Sungai Petani (and spend the rest of the night in the office) or take the last bus home and get some well-deserved rest and sleep!

The main road in front of the old courthouse was already closed since late afternoon to make room for the celebrations and last minute preparation on the main stage around the old clock tower. Although it was never reliable at time keeping for as long as I can remember, the clock tower has always been an integral part of major events in this town. I had hoped they would use their watches for the countdown to 12:00 midnight later on.

Traffic around town had been reduced to a crawl and kids on motorcycles were zooming through with flags flapping behind them, making a lot of noise with their horns and the silencers taken out of their exhaust pipes. I was told a concert would be held prior to the countdown culminating in a fireworks show at 12:01. The big procession would be held the following morning. That was it. Maybe I should just go home and get more excitement hunting down the lone mosquito in my mosquito net. Hey, the Japanese guy burnt his house down doing it -- that was exciting.

The whole ho-hum idea of "getting down" in a small town like SP didn't sound too promising, so I headed for the bus terminal. When I was first working in Penang in the late Seventies, the locals there really took their celebrations seriously. All they needed then was an excuse to celebrate -- Merdeka, New Year, April Fool, whatever -- and they'd take to the streets, cruising with their pants down and their butts unceremoniously pushed out through the car windows for all and sundry to see. That was exciting!

If you were unlucky enough to wait for the bus along Penang Road at the wrong time, you would catch these crazy guys mooning at you. It was hilarious to see those old superstitious Chinese ladies swearing at the amount of bad luck those moons would bring them. Of course, one guy by the name of David Arumugam went too far and was arrested for streaking (the 70's term for running stark naked) through the Botanical Gardens. That too was exciting, trima kaseeyyy!

So I opted for the latter choice, went to the terminal and boarded the last bus home. I thought a couple of Nepalese workers at the AIMST campus were still wondering where they were going when I reached home. The bus had to take a shortcut due to the jam and had bypassed their regular stop. Made myself a glass of milk, curled up with an old magazine which I have read a thousand times, listened to same old songs on Light & Easy on the radio and went to bed at the stroke of midnight. Merdeka!