Shadian

Shadian

I saw a pretty Chinese lady in tudung awaiting us as we alighted the coaster, which departed from Kunming almost three hours earlier. Khatijah Wang later informed us Zaharah is the local government officer appointed to meet us. It was an awesomely huge and beautiful mosque built entirely from the local people’s funds. It is said to be able to hold 10,000 people in prayers and is the pride of the local Muslims. The small electronic board next to the mimbar showing current prayer times, had the waqt entirely in Chinese characters next to the time of prayers and it was an invigorating sight to Malay Muslims like me who I guess always hold a quiet secret wish that all their fellow Chinese Malaysians are also Muslims. Wouldn’t that be just awesome? Being just the true Shongti or brothers in Mandarin, that I suspect all Malaysians dream of.

Shadian this quaint little town to the south east of Kunming holds only about 20,000 of the entire State’s Muslim population of 800,000. They are definitely less than the 100,000 or so in rural North east Chao Tong but they are an industrious and invigorating population contributing almost RMB4 billion, and at its peak RMB14 billion, to the State GDP. This industriousness was epitomized by the elegant looking youngish entrepreneur Aishah Ma who greeted us earlier at her family’s halal instant noodles factory in Najiyen, the sister Muslim town of Shadian. Aishah said she is the youngest of seven children of her late businessman’s father, a respected leader in the local community. 

Khatijah our guide and friend who speaks English with the ever-present Malaysian ‘lah’, explained Ma is actually a short form for Muhammad.  During the Yuan Dynasty the Chinese Muslims were asked to Sinonised their name to assimilate further into Chinese society. The majority of the Muslims in China are of the Hui race who display traces of Arabic or Central Asian descent.  Hui we are informed literally means people who wants to go back ; that wish is of course now cast to the wind and they are as Chinese as the majority Han. Khatijah further explained like Ma which is the shortened form of Muhammad they also have Chinese surnames like Na, Sa, Ru and Ding, which you’ve guessed it, is the shortened form of Nasarudin the son of the first Muslim Governor called Governor Zahid. I heard that explanation not without a tinge of pride, imagining myself as a Chinese State Governor in days of old.

In Shadian we met Imam Daud, the Ahom (Imam) of Shadian Great Mosque, students Ibrahim and Musa, and Khatijah’s sister and auntie called Fatimah and Mariam. Khatijah explained traditionally the local imam will be invited to name all new born babies and hence the preponderance of Khatijah. Aishah, Fatimah and Mariam in her hometown. In order to not confused the local school teachers each Muslim child also carry a Chinese name. So she is Khatijah Wang Zhe and Aishah the entrepreneur is Aishah Ai Tse. I wonder what the Muslim governor’s Chinese name was.

The hospitality of our hosts wherever we were was overwhelming. As usual we were treated to an 18 dishes dinner. We were informed there was a circular from Beijing requesting the number of dishes to be reduced for guests of honour. We understand the Chinese Provinces appealed this circular and compromised at a maximum of 30 dishes. We were glad our hosts did not take full advantage of this relaxation of the rules. The food as usual were delicious but one can only take so much of a good thing.

The province we were in is supposed to be one of the backward provinces but with bullet trains, and twin towers amidst the glimmering skyscrapers we were hard put to seek the backwardness in the capital city of 8 million. We also forget sometimes that a state in China can be bigger than most countries in South East Asia in terms of size and population.  With a population of 1.4 billion people they are slightly bigger than Malaysia’s 31 million. With such a cutely sized population that we can hold our heads up high to a nation/continent of 1.4 billion in some areas is something we can appreciate with a tinge of pride. We teach them at what we are good at, and they do appreciate that and if we can instill a little bit of dakwah in our efforts we may just plant the seeds of a hopeful harvest in the future. May Allah swt guide us. We pray the blessings of Allah swt on the roh of Sa’ad ibni Abi Waqqas r.a the Sahabat sent by Rasulullah s.a.w during his lifetime, and the father of almost 100 million Muslims in China now.

A Cu Berry Memory

A Cu Berry Memory,

It didn’t happened, the Zahid family stayed firmly in Malaysia this December school holidays. After three years in a row, Globe- or rather Europe- trotting Mama said lets rest this year, and see what happens after Kakak and Zahir finishes their respective PT3 and UPSR/KSSR this new school year, God willing. A last minute Asian location for snow was also voted down. So we decided on a cuti cuti Malaysia location but only after the mandatory visit to KB for the children to reconnect with their cousins. Papa also had University Seminars and Surau Ceramahs to attend to in KB which fits the bill to a tee, whilst Mama reengage with her siblings. We learnt our lesson this year and decided to fly to KB instead of driving, to avoid what happened last year during the flood prone season. A back to KB trip turned into a sojourn in Pangkor when the East West Highway became impassable through a land slip. However we were not spared flood related suspense when Cik Yum’s house seemed temporarily threatened with a mini flood. As Papa was a Seminar speaker the next morning, we seriously considered buying Papa, Phua Chu Kang plastic boots to walk to the main road to be picked up by Hj Shukri for the Seminar. However providence was with me, the mini flood didn’t happened and I managed to drive Cik Yum’s Wish to the Seminar. A participant have the option to miss a Seminar, a Speaker has to be there come hail, rain or fire. I, and other members of the Movement for Monetary Justice NGO, are passionate about our Cause, in revealing the true cause of the current financial woes of ordinary people, being the virulent, poverty gap widening, and purchasing power stealing, current Monetary System.

A choice was given as to where our cuti cuti Malaysia location should be, and led by Adila the choice was overwhelmingly Cameron Highlands. There is only one place for us in CH and that’s the full of ambience hamlet like Resort on top of the Tanah Rata hill. I will name the place if the Resort owner will agree to a suitable advertising fee 😄.  Papa have always wanted to return to this place to chase memories and repeat picture poses we took ten years ago. Ten years ago strawberries were cu-berries to the two preschool girls, and Zahir’s stroller was a permanent part of the family armament. We found the location where we took the picture 10 years ago and tried to repeat the pose with Mama as camerawoman. Kakak repeated her pose perfectly, Adila replaced her cheeky grin with a teenager’s smile, and Zahir stood in front of Papa instead of being carried in Papa’s arms. Yes Cousin Kat, your Uncle cheated by not carrying Zahir but you will forgive me I’m sure for the 2 month old baby then is, well, not quite a baby now. We also repeated one together with Mama in front of the Resort’s signpost, but this time with a family selfie just to keep up with the times.

We had more time to explore Cameron this time round and drove through every nook and corner we missed before. The famous Resort-organized Cameron Walks will however remain in Papa’s Wish list as the magnetic attraction of internet and Miss Weefee was too strong for the family. 

And I might add Cameron was particularly cold this time round, middays at 16C and I’m almost certain much lower in the wee hours of the night. I am glad we were not born Cameronians though, as the family could hardly get out of bed in the hibernation inducing cold. The cold however reminded us of how luxurious a piping hot rain water shower can be. 

Praise be to Allah for simple blessings.

Zahid

A Brother Too Far

A Brother Too Far.

Assalamu ‘Alaikum,

Being born amongst the youngest in a family of eleven means in adulthood I’m usually spared most of the heads of family duties when it comes to marriage of siblings etc. However things changed when you marry a girl who is amongst the eldest in her family. I married the eldest girl in a family of seven. So when the youngest brother but one, in her family is to be married I found myself promoted in my station in life. I am now a rookie Head of Engagement Delegation on behalf of my young brother in law. At times like this you’d wish MPH will stock your wish list Dummy books like “Head of Bertunang Delegation for Dummies”.

If my brother in law decided to marry someone in Perak or even culturally awesome Negeri Sembilan I wouldn’t have really baulked, but he had of course to choose to marry someone in Limbang Sarawak, a sweet girl he met at a Polytechnic in Kuching.

Fine, so what do I know of Limbang putting aside the Head of Delegation fears for the time being. The ladies in my wife’s family came into the fore when it comes to engagement ‘perhantaran’ and all that. I suspected my wife and her sister had gone to secret night classes for Malay engagements and wedding with their detailed knowledge of what to do which impressed me no end. I was of course already practicing my head of delegation speech in my head. I sought tips from various sifus in my extended family of course, and what came through was the “menyambung silatarrahim’ phrase which I’m told and I found is a natural winner in the scheme of things.

And it was indeed a ‘menyambung silaturrahim’ event indeed on the day of the engagement. My three youngish children found themselves on a journey again having weathered Europe, Johor Baru, Lenggong and now Brunei and Limbang all in a space of four weeks from the start of their school holidays in November. I told them that even before their teacher asked Papa wants a travelogue of what they did during their school holidays in my constant effort to sharpen their English language skills. Adlin went off tangent with a Korean teen age love story, Zahir started page one and sort of took a long break since, and Adila secretive as always, not willing to show me until she has completed the exercise.

I digress; we thanked Air Asia for the huge savings in family flight to Brunei which now include my sister in law and her primary school going daughter, and dad in law and mum in law. We checked in into a family hotel in Bandar Seri Bagawan and waited for my sis in law to be to make the connection. We had no idea in which direction Limbang is and how to get there. Naively I offered we take a taxi there but I’m glad we didn’t, as direction-telling wise to the taxi driver it may have been a bit complicated. Her uncle and son came with two SUVs and we breathed a sigh of relief. And that was where I learnt about a family separated by historical boundary decisions.

We knew she was from Limbang but we had no clue of the family relationships with Brunei. For those whose East Malaysia geography is a bit vague, Limbang is the strip of Sarawak, Malaysian land that splits Brunei into two separate parts. Yes, no land access between Bandar Seri Bagawan Brunei and Temburong Brunei, Malaysia goes straight to the coast. You sought of feel for the Bruneians, for the split of their country into two separate halves, but Wikipedia immediately eased my guilt feelings when I learnt it wasn’t us Malaysians who did the splitting but some White Rajahs well, well before us. We all know of course that at some point in time, in days gone by, the Sultanate of Brunei actually covered almost the whole of Borneo.

I was surprised to learn that my sis in law to be’s father is the only brother this side of the border whereas most or all other brothers and members of his family are on the other side. They or their fathers were all residents of Kampung Lumapas which was split into two when they set the border between Brunei and Malaysia. So I imagined my Kampung Sira in Lenggong Perak split between two countries, Pak Lang Ibrahim’s house which is just a shouting distance away is now in country A, whereas me and my gramps in country B, though I could throw a rubber ball that would go through Pak Lang Ibrahim’s window if I wanted to. Well that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but that’s what Kampung Lumapas residents found themselves facing in that boundary-placing year.

Many brothers thus carry Brunei Passports while my sis in law to be’s father and his entirely family carries Malaysian Passports. Now if you understand the economics between Brunei citizens and Limbang citizens you would wish to draw attention to the Malaysian authorities that it is long overdue they do Limbang citizens right, and make them proud to be Malaysians. The Zahid family will do our part with the sillaturahim of marriages etc, but the powers that be need to buck up and do the rest.

Back to the engagement event, praise be to God all went well yesterday. I didn’t do too badly I think, and hoped. As everybody was happy and smiling I presumed I had not grossly offended anyone by any rookie mistakes, and I think they liked my regaling of Islamic finance teaching tales in safari Africa and all. I knew that is always a fall back I can rely on. Alhamdulillah armed with this invaluable experience I’m now ready in sya Allah to handle more of such events as I may have to, for fatherless nieces and all. In sya Allah and Alhamdulillah.

Zahid.

C72

The Elusive Snow

Assalamu 'Alaikum

The Elusive Snow.

 

I recalled it used to snow at Easter in London during my student days in the seventies, so the family now on London trips, never held much hope for snow in London in winter, if it did it was a bonus. Last two trips, the family had to fit in Papa’s work time so we never expected any snow during the late November early December trips, and we were not wrong! This year the planning was for snow, although Papa has to make London a first stop for work purposes. The family, well Mama and Papa, homed in on Helsinki, for can it not snow in Helsinki in late November, early December?! Well, as we are finding out, it can, not snow in Helsinki in late November early December actually.

 

We’ve been here two days now and although the temperature is decidedly lower than London its not the snowy kind. The pictures of snowy Helsinki at the Tourist Centre were nice but it wasn’t happening then. Helsinki is a beautiful capital city at the southern coast of Finland surrounded by an archipelago of islands.  Vlad the handsome Finnish boy who greeted us at our apartment homestay tried very hard to search for snow in Finland where we can take a day trip by train, but Lappland at 700 km away was not quite the distance we had in mind, although it most certainly is the capital of snow. The Finnish girl at the City’s Tourist Centre also showed us a blotch in the centre of Finland in her laptop where it is currently snowing but she said its only 10 cm of snow and I surmised it might just not still be there if we were to take the 5 hour train ride there!

 

So we walked the beautiful lighted city of Helsinki, taking in the atmosphere. It was certainly their celebrative time of year, with street lamps that are iconized as reindeers. It was only half past three in the afternoon, but for someone from Malaysia who may be without a watch, it could easily be 9pm at night.

 

Helsinki seems a very nice quiet city, without the hullaballoo of London traffic and people jam. It’s more laid back with huge, rectangular box mansion-like buildings lining the streets, and well dressed people moving purposefully to their destinations.

 

Paying for tickets on trains can be a real challenge for the honest passenger though. Firstly there is no ticket counter at any station! The locals all seem to have that plastic thing which they touch at some reader thing as they enter the train. The visitors then would not have these plastics and is ready to pay with cash but there is nobody to take the cash!

 

Vlad said there will be someone to collect your money as you sit in the coach but nobody came. We asked, but the man said wait for the ticket collector to come. The ticket collector did not come as we arrived at Helsinki Main and the guy said go on, it means you don’t need to pay. Sure enough as we left the train and walked out of the station there was nobody at the exit requesting for tickets!

 

On the return trip home I was determined to pay my two adults and 3 children tickets but all the coaches said “No Ticket Sale”. I was a trifle bit confused- they don’t seem to want your money here! Then the coin dropped and I remembered Vlad said there will be one coach where there will be ticket sale! Sure enough we found the coach and we entered it, me absolutely determined to pay for the tickets.

 

Our policy overseas is to follow the rules to the letter, for we don’t want vacations spoiled by us not following foreign rules. We almost already reached our stop, when I saw the ticket collector. So I got up quickly and proffered her a 20 Euro note as the train arrived at our stop. She just smiled and waved us off the train without paying, as they was not enough time for her to do the ticket thing on her gadget. I failed again to pay, but comforted that this time it was no less than the ticket collector that let us off.

 

Today is Helsinki Zoo time and I did pay the train tickets this time. But I did not pay the bus tickets to the Zoo, as you can travel anywhere on any transport in Helsinki for free, after purchasing your first tickets, provided you do the travelling within one hour of your first ticket purchase.

 

So we found ourselves at Helsinki Zoo, which was on a little island connected by a short bridge from the Mainland. If you can imagine a zoo in the coldest freezer you can find in KL, that was Helsinki Zoo. The winds were icy and the day darkening as we went on our search for the polar bear. Well actually there were no polar bear at the zoo. In fact there were no animals at the zoo, that can be seen that is, all snugly hidden somewhere probably having a good laugh at the humans out there in the cold trying to eye them.

 

However after the bison and the elk, things got more exciting as we neared the end of the zoo. Close encounters of the furry but scary kind. We were face to face with Siberian leopards and an Alpha lion and his two lionesses. Although these are animals we should be familiar with coming from Malaysia this was the first time we were figuratively speaking, breath smelling close to these big cats separated only a by a two inch glass wall. The Lion King took a liking to my eldest daughter Adlin and was stretching his paws lightly pounding the glass door that separated him from Adlin. Adlin said the Alpha lion winked at her twice; I teased that’s probably because she looked like roast chicken to him, although I must say the lion comes across as a very friendly pussy cat.

 

The sea winds on our face in the zoo island made it seems as if it was cold enough to snow but it was not to be. All seems déjà vu our Korean trip in days gone by, also waiting for snow. Will it also has a snowy ending this time?

 

Zahid C72

Banda Aceh

Assalamu ‘Alaikum,

Banda Aceh

Mukhti said he lost 105 family members in the Tsunami. I asked him where he were, which seemed to be the same question I asked every Achinese I met, when the catastrophe took place. He said he was not a beca rider at the time, he had a stall selling things. The waves were nearing him when he packed his family of five onto his tricycle bike to rush inland. He was missing one 6 year old son who could not be located. It was a horrific position for a dad to be in to move on to safety minus one offspring but the decision had to be made or the entire family would be sacrificed. Most fathers I think can empathise with his dilemma. However this particular family had a happy ending for the boy lodged himself in the minarets of one of the mosques. But it wasn’t a happy ending for 105 of his relatives of which he said they could locate only one body to be properly buried. Due to pressing circumstances the Tsunami victims were mostly buried in huge common graves which are now under barriered but unmarked lawns at several places you will see on the way from the Sultan Iskandar Muda airport.

Mukhti was a persistent beca rider to whom we eventually succumbed in view of our consideration to his obvious economic plight. The new leaders of Aceh are trying their best with infrastructure buildings and all, but until the economic impact trickles down to the poor they do not see the impact of economic growth. This is one economic lesson we need to learn and relearn. Progress is not about percentage point increases to the GDP nor profit increases to mega corporates, it is about how the most underprivileged is taken care of economically by the government. Just like the monetary system where the traditional method is to enrich the rich so that some spoils will trickle to the poor, economic systems cannot rely on this formula either. Whilst yes it is obvious infrastructure building will eventually enrich the economy, what do you say to the beca rider who said the big port they are building has so far has not touched his life. He does see however it enriching the companies involved with the project. So the object lesson in new economics is, parallel upliftment of the plight of the poor whilst you go for your broad infrastructure development. I will unfriend you from Facebook if you even mentioned the word BR1M! Technically however it is a not such a bad solution provided it comes from the profits of an expanding economic cake, but not if it comes from reputedly dubious sources.

Now the beca that Mukhti takes you for Aceh rides in are not the nice bicycle trishaw you see in Melaka or similar. It is a rickety trishaw somehow attached to an old motorbike with an engine that seems about to die any which time. I wanted to take the taxi but the hotel receptionists all insist the trishaw is better and cheaper. We did take a taxi for the longer distance rides but we did what I thought was economic jihad for the shorter ones. It does take a huge dose of bravery to sit in one, while your beca rider weaves through the pretty scary vehicles traffic. We are acutely aware that the beca is no match in a heads on fisticuffs with a car. However beca rides gives a street view of Banda Aceh, the capital of Aceh Provinsi. I will describe Banda Aceh as having huge potential, although presently it is very much a 1960s Malaysian city town.

The Achinese are a very proud race with a very proud religious history, the source of entrance and the cradle of Islam for the Nusantara. They have been fiercely independent and has hardly succumbed even to the Dutch during the hey day of Dutch colonialism. So it is hardly surprising they were at odds with Jakarta even after independence. The Aceh strive for independence from Jakarta lasted 30 years and was premised on Jakarta’s failure to honour the pre Merdeka pledge to them to uphold the rule of Islam for whole of Indonesia. But this is now water under the bridge, GAM or Gabungan Aceh Merdeka made peace with Jakarta after the Tsunami catastrophe of 2004 in a historic Helsinki led peace agreement brokered by Ex President Ahtisaarri of Finland.

Having completed our objectives in this beautifully quaint city, we said goodbye to Mukhti and said we will take a taxi to the airport tomorrow. Mukhti insisted we take his beca to the airport with our luggage on the rooftop! I pacified him that we might take a last minute ride before we leave for the airport tomorrow. I don’t know whether he believes me but there is really a limit to my economic jihad, and after all he did enjoy the Nasi Padang lunch we asked him to join us in earlier.

Zahid

C72

The Price of a Smile

Thursday, May 19, 2011

The Price of a Smile

Assalamu ‘Alaikum

The Price of a Smile

It was worth every sen. Now she smiles at every opportunity. Many moons ago in Riyadh when she was a wee bit smaller she must have tripped and hit a coffee table or something. We weren’t sure, it could also have been the tons of sweet the two front teeth had no choice but to process. The end result was a gap in her smile which had us a little bit worried because the stumps were still intact. With the tooth fairy scheduled to deliver her permanent teeth soon we wanted the fairy’s job to be easier without having to deal with the milk teeth stumps as well.
So Mama and Papa agreed, and Papa dug deep in his pocket for Adila to have a dental surgery to remove the stumps. Aah yes, another thing is that it can’t be done in a normal dentist’s clinic. We have run out of dentists in Bukit Jelutong who’s not afraid of Adila. Once she makes up her mind to clench her mouth shut no amount of persuasion by any dentist will get her to open it, leave alone let any dentist poke all those sharp things in her mouth. We suspected the young dentist we last visited broke down in tears as soon as we left; everything about dentist chair side manners she learnt at med school failed miserably with Adila. Well she’s in good company even Adila’s paedi did not fare any better in other encounters.

So it was in this spanking brand new Medical Centre in Shah Alam that we arranged for Adila to have her dental surgery. This dentist fared a little bit better than the others as Adila was under sedation this time. So out came the stumps plus six other little teeth which probably spared the tooth fairy some overtime. Now its endless sweet smiles from this happy eight year old girl. Still with gaps and generally toothless but a happy smile nonetheless. We only knew how heavy it weighed on her little mind when she confided with Mama that she was very shy to smile before this. We are parentally happy too; Mama said we should remember to up her mas kahwin* when the moment comes.

Mama and I also agreed our parents could never have afforded such expenditure for kids. Our tooth problems being solved either through natural means or through the proverbial stringed tooth tied to the doorknob. Dental visits will be when the doktor kerajaan visits our schools; otherwise we just pretend dentists don’t exists, tooth pains being solved by Granny’s clove or two, or the juice of Mum’s squeezed garlic.

There are many other things our kids go through where we had other alternatives in days gone by. When our five year olds stretched their limbs at the playground during kindergarten recess we flexed and stretched muscles through acrobatics on rambutan trees. When they splashed and squealed with float wings in beautifully blue swimming pools, we had natural Jacuzzi in clear kampong streams. When kampong lads in the likes of a Malaysian Tom Sawyer was our childhood hero and caring big brother, Zahir had clean cut little Farhan who pinches everyone at every opportunity. When we had marbles and tops and kites to keep us busy, our kids have zombies to kill, aliens to destroy and buildings to demolish in their computer world.

Well, that’s progress. Wonder what the kids will be writing about their own kids in their blogs in times to come.

Wassalam,

Zahid

Note: * mas kahwin = dowry; doktor kerajaan= government doctor; rambutan= a favorite local fruit;
             kampong= village 

Dari Gong Lilit ke Jakarta

2011

Assalamu 'Alaikum

Dari Gong Lilit ke Jakarta


We wouldn’t have gone if it wasn’t Popo’s wedding but ties that bind and the fear of Kak Ju’s cold stare saw us put ourselves into our kenduri kahwin clothes barely a few hours after arriving from a tiring morning flight from Kota Baru. The journey started just after Subuh from Besut, Trengganu that Saturday morning after a hectic previous day's barbecueing at Tok Aboh’s retirement cottage. Actually it all started on the Wednesday night when we took the overnight mail train from KL Sentral to Wakaf Baru, Kelantan.