My Ventures

My older posts bespoke of this change in my life, from a complacent educator to a mind-spinning businesslady, and here is the establishment which is my pride and joy, which goes under the unassuming name of `Pusat e-Tuisyen & Siber Johor'. It's creation is totally my own - the concept, the designs and the operation. Of course, the factor that had moved me out of my cosy couch is a story of its own and requires another chapter in this drama of life, but the fact remains and the proof is standing here at Jalan Kebun Teh, Johor Bahru. PeTSJ will soon celebrate its 1st birthday...a year of much learning for me.

Prior to its inception, I registered a company - `MyMotherboard Sdn. Bhd' -the name itself is a story! Anyway, in the first picture you will see that the whole place is glass-walled so that there is nothing that can be hidden from public view. Very transparent. PeTSJ is family-oriented, and it's so cool to see parents coming in with their children as young as a few months old -no kidding!
So with a babe in their arms, mothers would surf the net, fathers would check their e-mails or stock markets, older children their facebooks or youtubes. Businessmen have their own corner I labelled `BizHub', a more comfortable nook with ample space for quiet discussions with a partner. There are 44 PCs running there, and wifi facilities. 2 Streamyx lines so its really fast. The 2nd picture is the front of the shop - lovely parking area right in front so all my bikers just vroom and park.

And a surprise...the first floor of PeTSJ is also mine! It's a small budget studio called `Regal Studio' with facilities for seminars, workshops and even computer courses, will comfortably seat 100 participants. Direct-selling companies have used it for their monthly previews and it's really convenient because after their talks, they will take their refreshments in the cafe (Picture 3), which is in PeTSJ.The world map you see on the wall is a conversation piece...Raoul is an Indian who worked for a telecommunication company and he travels a lot, and would show me places in South America that he had been to. I like to see older men look at the map and tell of their experiences in various parts of the world.The cafe serves very light menu - toasts are all-time favourites and cup noodles are my bestsellers. I sell cold drinks at only RM1 because schoolchildren would come in, count the coins in their hands and ask `What can I buy with a ringgit?' There are tidbits to munch while at the PC.

I will give a sneak into my latest venture: something I will talk about in the next post. An extraordinary concept that is so exciting and challenging that it got me very nervous, actually..Picture 4 looks like a kitchen does it not...but it is not. It is `Regal Tea Room Boutique', and God Willing, will begin its operation after the Eid.

So.

It is for all these that Sleeping Beauty had awakened.

The Lonely Red Lorry

This little red lorry, left alone
on the cold wet floor,
sad and forlorn
watching the door.

This sad red lorry
longs for the merry
bath-time again,
with the winsome twain.
For the frolicking twins
Are now in school
learning to follow the rules
of life and how to begin.
Dear lonely red lorry
Do stop feeling sorry -
Here Nenek is sad, too
Missing the squeals and laughter of the two
of the wet splashy bath-time hullabaloo
when ImanImran would soap you!
Ahh...they are already aged two, you know,
So to school they must go;
Learning to share
with new friends over there.

Masihkah Kau Ingat

Does anyone remember this old song by Kopratasa? I was out shopping when I saw a remastered CD by the trio and decided to hear their songs again. What memories this particular track brought back! It's not merely a love song because I read it as a message of grit and determination, of seeking a dream and how we have to suffer hardship together before it is realised. A renowned (local) State leader had used this song to express his vision statement and at the late Dato's retirement, this song was played instead of the usual `My Way'. Read the words and see what the song is about; look for the substance in its poetry (ImanImran will help out with the ..er..melody) (PS: they were about 16 months old then so please pardon their mispronunciation!):

Masihkah kau ingat
Pada waktu itu
Sekuntum bunga mekar
Ku selit dirambut mu
Masihkah kau ingat
Ia menjadi mimpi
Dan menjadi rindu
Masihkah kau ingat...
Masihkah kau ingat kita berlari-lari
Di kaki langit
mencari pelangi
Lalu hujan turun kita basah bersama
Masihkah kau ingat
Masihkah kau ingat...
Masihkah kau ingat, sekuntum bunga itu
Ditapak tangan ini
Ia menjadi layu
Lalu ku genggam
Ia menjadi debu
masihkah kau ingat..

Talcum Sea

Haha Tok Mat! Look who's handsome now! We poured talcum powder under Nenek's table and SWAM in it..whoosh! And swiped the chairs with it and our faces and our bodies and we had such great fun! Did Nenek scold us? Naah..she took our picture instead because she said Widia (that's her Indonesian maid) can mop the floor and we can bathe and the chair can be wiped clean but we cannot have the same fun again when we are bigger so she said go ahead, boys, rule the world!! Wooo...

ChokiChoki

IMRAN & IMAN

Read in the papers today,

about the falling stock market

and the soaring price of gold;

I read about `The Pregnant School'

and kids allowed to be wedded;

the weather in the four corners of the world going haywire,

about a Malay Muslim shooting himself in the head.

A Grandfather raping his 8-year-old grand-daughter,

or the 100-year-old Grandmother with a 38-year-old spouse;

Babies are dumped,

Dogs become heirs to billionaires.

And I wonder what is going on

Adults are so very complicated.

Perhaps -

If I read the newspaper

Upside down,

Then the world will be alright again.

Or give me a stick of choki-choki

and I'm as happy as can be!

The Smart School - Version `Vision 2010'

Pak Man: We come to pick the flower in your garden.
Mak Minah: But she is so young, she cannot cook rice yet.
Pak Man: Don't worry, Che Minah, you know lah now got rice cooker all, no need to learn.
Mak Minah: But for which bee you want my flower?
Pak Man: You know the son of Haji Noh.
Mak Minah: Oooh..that one with rock pimples on the face. I know, I know.Wait-ah, I ask Lili.
Lili! Lili! Got people want to pick you already. You want or not?
Lili (from inside): Mak Ngah...wait one minute, I finish my Sejarah homework.
Mak Minah: Alaa...put aside first your homework. Tomorrow-tomorrow can do. You know the son of Hj Noh?
Lili (bashfully): I know. He's in Form 5. Next class only. Everyday I see him stand on the chair, Sir punish him..hehe..
Mak Minah: (whisper) His name Etok. He want to marry you.
Lili: Hehe...can also...but he stay with us la, or I stay in his house after that? I want to stay with him, his father can send us together to school, he got orange colour Kenari.
Mak Minah: Eee this girl, so money-eyes. Eh, you are right also. His mother can wash your school uniform then I don't have to do it. If you get baby, how?
Lili: Alaa Mak Ngah..if we married now, we don't have to throw the baby away in the dustbin..or toilet...
Mak Minah: Ok lah in that case, ah, I tell Pak Man lah. Your school how? You in Form 3 only.
Lili: Mak Ngah, school ok what now. Nani and Tipah married last week, then my friend Anna Katrina also want to married next month before deepavali.
Mak Minah: Hmm...
Lili: Eee, so excited! Wait I take the form in school, no need to apply anything, just fill in form only. Some more, Mak Ngah, the form we take in the canteen, not office. Easy, Mak Ngah.
Mak Minah: So itchy, this girl.
Lili: Mak Ngah, you know my friend in 3 Clever (3C), she pregnant so big, doctor said she got three babies in her stomach. She go to school like buffalo, cannot sit at her desk you know, cannot fit. Then teacher said no need to go to school.
Mak Ngah: Her husband, how?
Lili: Her husband also in her class, both classmates, Mak Ngah. But you know one secret, Mak Ngah..don't tell people ok..now the husband don't like her already. Now always chat with Mary Sia Ling Ling in facebook.. He said his wife so big, so ugly. He so jijik. Mary small and cute, she in Form 3 Intelligent (3I).
Mak Ngah: Eh this girl, so many stories. Pak Man waiting outside.
Lili: Mak Ngah, my hantaran how much?
Mak Ngah: Hantaran? Take you freelah also never mind. Where got money to return the hantaran? Buy Hai magazine also cannot. So long already I never read about artistes. Don't know what colour already Rosnah Aris hair. So miss. No sugar never mind, Hai magazine must read.
Lili: Mak Ngah...quickly go and tell Pak Man lah. (To herself) Puan Etok..eee...best nyer. Sure jealous ler my friends...ada mat rempit nak amik aku jadi bini..so lucky stay in Melaka.

(End another Drama of Life)

Pelangi Ibu

Seorang Pelangi
duduk disebelahku semalam,
...indah.
Ceria Kuning cahayanya
senyum tawa mengiringi bualnya
matanya Biru redup penuh kasih merenung kami,
penuh lembut Ungu menyelubungi wajah
penuh aman Indigo jiwanya ku sangka,
Hijau tenang bicaranya...
Riang Jingga teruja
atas kejayaan kami.

Tetapi tidak ku duga,
Tidak juga ku sangka
hujan...
...petir...
.......kilat....
Merah pelangi menduga jiwamu, Ibu..
Rupanya
Pelangi indah disebelahku
malam tadi
sedang tertanya tanya
dimanakah mentari
dalam hidupnya.

Ibu,
pernahkah engkau khianati
kebahagiaan yang diberi?
Sanggup engkau hidup sebagai Pelangi
sedangkan namamu Taufan?
Tapi aku tahu -
Kami semua tahu
Ibu berpura demi kami.


Found this piece of sajak that I wrote some years ago. Must've been very inspired to able to write in Malay! Dedicated to all Mothers out there who choose to suffer in silence, not because they are pathetically passive, but because they are self-sacrificing.

Letter from Nye Ariffin

My beloved Iman and Imran,
This is Nye Ariffin, your Great Grandfather, your Nenek's father.
We are not destined to meet but I know you as I know Harith, Etek, Adriana Hanna, all my great grandchildren, and soon, I know your aunty Emek will also have a child of her own. I know how wonderful that would have been, to gather here on this verandah and hear all your shrieks and laughter and to see Nye Lah strut around like a proud and cheerful peacock as she served her little flock of energetic great grandchildren. And I would sit serenely here, the same way as you see me now...and how you would scramble and fight to sit on my knees, search the pockets of my baju melayu with your tiny hands. I could feel gentle Iman kiss my cheeks and Imran my hands, or even my toes because I know one day Iman did that, didn't you, to your Nenek, you kissed her feet and she cried? You are as kind as your Papa and Atuk Rashid, the generations of men with Southern roots; while many had thought I was formidable in my silence and often piercing eyes! Maybe besides Nye Lah, your Nenek knew me best. I wonder if she could still remember how she sat on my knee and I brushed her hair with my songkok brush? Well I had pampered her a little bit more because she came after two boys, your Tok Ayah and Tok Ming, and after her, another boy, Tok Mail.
ImanImran, I had to surrender to my illness. I grew exhausted fighting it for almost four years. Your Atuk and Nenek had done so much for me in the battle against cancer. Nenek had taken so many leave from work to be with me in KL hospital and she saw my hallucinations each time I was drugged with morphine. Nye Lah was optmistic throughout my illness but Allah is Almighty, my boys...I had to leave all that I had loved in this world not too long before you came along.

2005. The family celebrated what was to be my final Hari Raya in the hospital ward. I had worn a maroon baju melayu that your Nenek bought for me (because I had wanted it) and the doctor allowed my oxygen mask to be removed just for that day. I knew everyone faked their joy as your Tok Ayah Mat clicked away on his camera.
One day when you both are old enough, Nenek will tell you about me. She will not tell any fabricated fairy tale (I hope) because my life had been a full one, a real one. No my beloved, I was not a hero. I was not wealthy either, but I had my riches. Nye Lah was the most faithful of wives and she withstood almost 60 years with me with amazing patience and love that I don't think anyone could be as lucky or as `rich' as me then. She slept on the hard, cold hospital floor to keep me company...she never left my side. And I opened up my heart to her and finally declared my long, long love for her, but maybe professed too late before I left her forever; that I know she keeps that confession as a talisman to keep her going now. I was also `rich' with my 9 children, including Tok Syila, and all my children-in-law. Your Nenek being the furthest there in Johor but I was comforted in knowing she was well-taken care of by your Atuk. She is perhaps very lucky in that sense and I was proud of how well her life had been...still keeping the record of being the first in the family to go for the Haj, eh..and to study overseas and all...globe-trotting with Atuk, much to the envy of everyone; sitting next to Royalty and other highbrows..but Na, Allah is Al-Muntaqim... the Inflicter of Retribution; the Nemesis will come to those who do injustice to you.

How many grandchildren had I? 28 or 30? maybe more? (Eh, Mat??) Who would not be `rich'? A comfortable house, a small car just for me and Nye Lah had been more than enough. So when I was gone, I left nothing. Nothing. Nothing to be shared among the siblings and their children. No fortune to be fought over, no so-called`heritage', much to the disbelief of family. Syila took my spectacles, Ana took my fountain pen, my dentures must still be with Che.
But Iman Imran...I left a legacy that you must bear. I had honour and dignity. I had wisdom and foresight. I left behind values that money and wealth cannot buy. I had no need for too much money; happiness was being able to sleep well and peacefully, with Nye Lah (who could fall asleep even sitting down..); to be healthy in mind, body and spirit. To have gone to the mosque and madrasah was more than I could ask for. Oh I had a weakness for cigarettes which cost me my life, but that was not to be a reason. I sold off what little bit of property I had, that piece of land somewhere in the far end of Kelantan was of no use to me except to have caused so much petty squabble.
So remember Iman Imran, Nye's legacy. I know Nenek has these traits that is why she is what she is today, and she upkeeps the sanctity of my principles. She has my boldness of character, my pride and quiet dignity. Fortitude. Her seeming indifference is her defence mechanism. She will not beg for anything and neither must you or anyone in this family. Stay clear of greed for material comfort; I know your world is so very challenging that's why you need to be extraordinarily strong!

I will always look down upon you and pray for you, ImanImran, all my great grandchildren, my grandchildren, my children. My wife.
Look after her for me, and love her. She doesn't ask for much, except to be remembered by you. I miss all of you, and
I love you.

May Allah bless each and everyone of you.

Nye Ariffin.

The Verandah

Four generations have stood on this part of the house, to welcome or to bid farewell. It would be on this verandah that one generation, then another, would wait for the ice-cream man on a hot day; it had always been here that families would sit on chairs or just the cool planks while the madre brought out trays of sweet hot BOH tea in the afternoon, and huge plates of keropok that would be gone in seconds; it was here that little Iskandar, or Abe, toddled and Azrul fell; fierce little plump Kaklin would bite Adam's cheeks and he bawled; little Ali with his long curly golden locks would shyly crawl towards his Che Ngah. Those rainy December holidays would witness the Johor family and Dungun families come back for very long vacations, and Tok Ayah cuddled Adik and everyone brought out their warm clothings and there was such bedlam! Tears of the very young and shrill laughter of the older ones comingled...and at this same spot where old uncles and aunties sit to gossip late at night while the children watched `Thundercats' or `Ultraman' inside; birthdays were celebrated here, barbeques three steps below; and the cars! everyone fought for the space nearest the tangga and the ones with the smallest babies always won and Abang Mi would win because he had the largest family back then. Che would be jolly even at 5.30 in the morning as she stood to welcome a homecoming child, or quietly wept to say goodbye.

When did all this begin to change?

Even in the advanced stages of his illness, late Ayah would still hung onto the strong steel bars as he spat blood that came out of his lungs...then at even more advanced stage, he sat there on his wheelchair and watched in silent sadness at healthy neighbours walking to the mosque across the road. We sorrowfully bid the final farewell to him as he left through this verandah...

Then - the house just became silent. The second generation became too busy to bring the third generation home. And now, the fourth generation hardly understood. Harith, Iman, Imran, Etek, and Adriana Hanna, and EmekJunior...and soon, Kakak Melissa Junior...welcome to Lot 606, Lorong Kenali, Kubang Kerian.

The Circle of Life

Iman & Imran,
I watched as the both of you struggled
To sit on the chair I take for granted;
To put the spoon into your mouth to
Feed on the food with less salt less sugar less oil.
You struggled to put on your little shirts;
To put a shoe into the correct foot.
Your eyes huge as I counted how many times you blink
Because in your innocence you do not.
And most of all,
I watch as you desperately try to say words I choose not to say
Anymore.
Iman & Imran,
I took you to see your Great-Grandfather just the other day.
NYANG SIHES.
Wasting away in a bed-confining stroke.
How like you he is...
As I watched him struggle to sit on his chair with wheels,
To put the spoon into his mouth to
Feed on his food with little sugar little salt little oil...
He could not put on his own shirt,
He could not put on his own shoes,
His eyes small with aged wisdom and teary because
He can no longer say the words he wanted to say
To you -
His Great Grandsons Umar Iman and Umar Imran.

And I say Subhanallah...Praise be to Allah..
How very alike the three of you are:
Two boys at age two, eager and waiting,
The man at age eighty, tired,
and also waiting..

for the Circle of Life to come around.

Ask...Me

I'm Iman and I'm writing on behalf of Nenek for this post. Nenek always tells me things so I know what the poem means to her. When I was a wee baby she loved to sing me and Imran the song `You Are My Sunshine' and even the simple lines have a meaning that only she understands.
Anyway, the poem `Ask Me' is all about Nenek's reflection on life. She finds solace in the steady rhythm, and a comfort in knowing that what is around her surpasses our human concerns.
There are 2 important messages in the poem. One is about how we live our life and next is about people around us.
Nenek's 2nd post, the one about Sleeping Beauty, is a metaphor for her life. Imran and I know that Nenek had gone through a period of depression, that is why the line `Please don't take my sunshine away' meant so much to her. It's about us, it's about people around Nenek. She had left so much behind in her quest to move forward. She has more or less rebuilt her life and what you see now is a new woman; stronger, more confident of herself and definitely very optimistic. "Ask me whether what I have done is my life"...and it is HER life after all. Nenek is no longer a skeptical person. People have come and go in her life. Friends appear in the realm of maybe-help-maybe-hurt, and she has to let go of several `friends'. We know she had one special friend because she (this woman) used to carry us in her arms when we were babies, and she was pretty but maybe she had hurt Nenek in ways which we do not know of. Some others were backstabbers, and Nenek would use her Theory of Elimination: eliminate these people from her life. You see, Nenek is beyond caring now. She always said that Imran and I are her whole world. She loves too much and too deeply...but sometimes people don't understand her. She loves my uncle and my aunties, Papa, Mama, my grandfather Atuk, but she cannot demonstrate her love because she came from a rather conservative family in Kota Bharu (ask my Atuk..). Nenek would rather keep her peace than scream in loud quarrels but her silence is more frightening (ask her students..). She's rather Victorian in that manner, you know, taking her grief away from public eyes and all that.Nenek thinks that her undemonstrativeness (?), her silences, her quietness, her conservativeness... these are her `mistakes'. Life is complicated...but Nenek has found a new lease of life in us, her grandsons. We hope we don't disappoint her, but Nenek doesn't care. She doesn't care anymore because "what difference [does] their strongest love or hate has made". People she loved had turned against her and threw hateful words in her face...people she loved and trusted had betrayed her...but Nenek has risen above all pettiness, surfaced and showed them that she is above all these "comings and goings". Now Nenek smiles and laughs again because she can now "turn and look at the silent river and wait."
And in my and Imran's small world, Nenek' love matters. She kisses all our pains away. Ask me, and I will tell you that grandmothers are simply...GRAND.

[Can I stop now? My fingers ache...].

Ask Me - William Stafford

Some time when the river is ice ask me
mistakes I have made. Ask me whether
what I have done is my life. Others
have come in their slow way into
my thought, and some have tried to help
or to hurt - ask me what difference
their strongest love or hate has made.
I will listen to what you say.
You and I can turn and look
at the silent river and wait. We know
the current is there, hidden; and there
are comings and goings from miles away
that hold the stillness exactly before us.
What the river says, that is what I say.

I'll leave the poem (by Wiliam Stafford) to be paraphrased by my followers because it should be interesting to find out how you personally relate to it...Misty should have a fair bit to say, with all your experiences, eh, or maybe Fadinha is younger but has learnt more of life. Or maybe Emek as English teacher would be able to add meaning to these lines.
Poetry is very deep and it is my favourite genre. So much is said in so few lines, and this poem is especially poignant although it is in free verse. Spontaneity and depth of thought conveys the philosophy which is actually very thinly disguised here.
Then I will say why I have chosen to write about `Ask Me' in my next post.

Twins in Baby Phat

IMAN trying to be a pirate down here and IMRAN with the case on..

Kimora should design baby-proof sunglasses for her Baby Phat collection because Iman has just demolished mine, and Imran is happy with just wearing the case on his forehead. Whatever. They were only too happy to pose for Nenek's camera...the innocence of 2-year-olds! And the carelessness of a 54-year-young granny.

Twins' 1st Visit to Desaru

That's Imran calling out "Ayiii...!" as he looked for Ali. Video recorded in February.

Twins in Nenek's hat

This is ...............IMAN..............and this is ..........IMRAN...................................

wearing Nenek's hat. Oh no, I don't wear hats normally but this one was given to me by Nurul when she and Adam went Bali for their honeymoon way back in 2007, and after the hat, they both gave me this adorable pair of twins!

Bits&Pieces

Tried uploading a video clip of the twins' 2nd birthday, but I've been waiting for so long for a message to appear to say that it's done. Guess I'll have to try again tomorrow. This blogging is a thrilling new thing for me and I'm trying everything on my own so maybe something's not right. Fadinha would love this one. For all the bullying on Iman, Imran is fearful of the candles after all! And there were only two on the cake...wait till he has 57 to blow...!!! He'd have the whole Fire Brigade on guard! With apologies to Certain People Who Are Really 57...(Tried making him sleep tonight and he shut his eyes very tight but forgot to close his mouth, he was grinning and his dimples were as deep as soup bowls..)

ImanImran

This is Imran on the left, and Iman above, and the reason they come in separate pictures is that they will never stand still together for more than 3 seconds! And nenek is too much of an amateur with the camera and each time a shot is taken, it is such a feat that I feel a muscle somewhere has got twisted.

So...these are the two dynamites who have, in a big way, taken over my life. And anyone would, too, if they are hugged and kissed by them for no apparent reason, except that their love is so pure and their trust in you so great.

Age & Image

I'd rather be a chameleon
and change my colours
to suit my surroundings;
but I'm not a chameleon.

An original free verse! Just how important image is especially to a woman in this topsy-turvy times. There's so much obligation to fulfill, can she ever be herself? Or does she go ahead and have courage to do what I've done?
About 5 years ago I decided I'd stop fooling myself, trying to be whom I was not. It was tentatively tried at first because I was still serving in the government sector where a certain decorum is expected of one; so I thought I was happy being archtypical...quintessential...safety in numbers, whatever, except that in group photographs every other lady looks like the next woman: long loose floral shirt over black baggy pants, black handbag, black court shoes and a so-called `matching' scarf tied below her chin. And that is considered being `modern', you know, otherwise, it should be the baju kurung only then will you be the Real Model Teacher.
And can anyone tell me what a grandmother should look like?
Am I that radical just because I let my hair long and loose and I call myself a `Nenek'? OK, I've got a bit of highlight here and there; alright, I admit I do go for colours also but it's absolutely out of necessity...Oh? those red heels? They're by Scholl and meant for old dames like me: stable. My jackets too? They're to keep my aging chest from catching cold. What, even my Burberry and Fendi handbags? They're original. You mean once you hit my age a woman should NOT go for labels and brands? Whose rules?
So you see, there are all those unwritten laws that govern a (Malay) woman's image. Especially a grand-mother. No make up...no fancy outfits...no heels...stay home and rock-a-bye-baby like Mother Goose. Get fat! Babies need all your fat to cushion their softness and frailty. The kitchen, not the office; cook, not chase clients; and knit, oh yes..or in our part of the world, crochet or sew patchworks.
No wonder whenever I hold Iman and Imran's hands when I take them to the Malls and of course they HAD to scream `NENEK!!!" out of sheer excitement, I inevitably get hostile looks from women. "Who does she think she is...two grandsons and still acting young.."
All I can say is..well, I AM young.
The best congratulatory wish I received when I became a grandmother came from YAM(Yang Amat Mulia) Tunku Shahariah binti Almarhum Tunku Abdul Rahman who said "Congratulations, Rohani...don't they make you feel YOUNG again?" very unlike most who smartly commented " Wah, dah jadi nenek, dah tua rupanya."
Seriously, though, I feel that a woman should not succumb to her situation just because society dictates that she should be and look like so-and-so. Do not over-do it, of course. The rule of the thumb is that in clothings, there must be one loose item on you. If you wear a biggish blouse, then put on tapered pants, and a bit of heel. Flats will make you look and feel sloppy. If you wear loose flowing pants, then a small short shirt and a well-cut cardigan that goes just below your waistline is smart. Do not show your behind. Do not show your midriff because well, oftimes at our age, it is not very pretty and not as taut as that teenager's over there.
The bottom line is the way a grandmother behaves. You can be covered from head to toe but if you scream and yell and guffaw like a hyena, well then, you are just another woman. Or if you cover your head and not a single strand of hair shows, but you wear a t-shirt with cap-sleeves or a skirt that stops at calf-length and a pair of green Crocs bought at the night market...then I'd say wham bam thank you ma'am, I'll go scarfless but still be a lady. And still be a grandmother. A Grand Mother. That adjective is there for a reason.

Adult TV

It's Sunday and a day away from PHDC - Play House Disney! A time for Nenek to watch some adult TV and I've always liked the discussions on Astro Awani.
This morning the panel spoke about "How do children see the World?"...and to expand on this view, I have my 2-sen worth of opinion. The knowledgeable panel spoke about children's observation, about nature vs. nurture, even about fetal absorption of `knowledge'. My 17 years at an Institution that trains teachers and wannabes, my part-time stints at a private university and general observation contribute largely to what I am about to disclose.
I will focus on the most recent experience of supervising 6 research students from a private U doing their First Degree in TESL. Last week, to be exact.
They were all teachers from semi-urban schools. They claimed in their papers that their students were `slow learners' or `below average' to justify their research topics. They investigated the kids' background, their cultural and racial origins, they made conclusions. And their topics to be `researched' into? Vocabulary ..Grammar...Pronunciation...Use songs, use pictures, use force even...and I can bet the kids' level of English will remain the same.
Do not blame the children. I partly blame the teachers and their attitudes.. Their topics reflect their lack of enthusiasm; the teachers sadly lack creativity; they have chosen topics so ordinary and where millions of researchers have done. All these teachers wanted is a degree so that they earn better pay. I had to correct THEIR own Grammar ("Why did the students wanted to learn songs?")and Vocabulary ("The control group was very effected by their learning method.")
I had suggested Drama but nobody took the challenge. What..all those hours of practice and rehearsals? No way Jose..
So HOW do children see the world, if not through the eyes of their teachers? Among children to whom English is a foreign language, these teachers are blaming the children for being `slow learners'. Label. That was what the Panel discussed this morning. How quickly and defensively we affix labels to save our own conscience.
Children idolise their teachers. The younger they are, the more they love their mentors. Teachers represent a brave new world to them. I already fear for my Iman and Imran. What kind of teachers will they get in their Kindergarten, will they be able to see the world through the teacher? Will the teacher be hardworking enough, concerned enough, and dedicated enough to bring them out in the morning for a stroll in the school yard to show them the different shapes of leaves and flowers? Will the teacher allow little grasshoppers to crawl on the twins' hands? Or will the teachers, like many do, merely flick open pages of science books?
Or, will everyone, like the Panel (they were educationists), accuse the parents? Or grandparents? Neneks?
My apprehension is real.

William Blake wrote this little poem in the 19thC:

To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour.

I had never given this poem much thought until recently when I walked with the twins in the yard. The meaning of `life-long education' became so real when I watched Iman pick a dry leaf that fell from the cempedak tree, and held it so tightly as if it was the most precious thing in his life.Imran found a piece of gravel and screamed with so much pleasure that I allowed him to grasp it in his tiny fist, dirt and all.
To see the world through the eyes of a child is to wake up from a dream. How many of us have forgotten what a drop of rain feels like? Why do we growl when it rains or scowl when it's hot? Nothing is right anymore. Even the food we push into our mouths is never really perfect. But if we could hold infinity in the palm of our hand, to pause a little while from thinking about our woes and sorrows, then perhaps we will see the beauty and blessings in so many things.
I have a video of ImanImran jumping and yelling and dancing and all because I said "Let's go out for a drive." And for so many years BT (Before the Twins) that phrase bears no meaning unless it's attached with "...to the Pavilion" or any specific destination of my pleasure.
And that is why my early retirement from a routine job gives so much room to plan my day. Mornings until their nap-time at noon is for the babes; afternoons for paperwork and my evenings for meetings with clients. And there is 'eternity in an hour' if you can train your brain to think and plan as you bounce a baby -or two-on your lap. Oh, I mean a baby. The little mite under two years of age?? That kind.