Baju Kelawar

You see, as one of the syarat sah nikah is to have sat through a Kursus Kahwin, I duly spent one weekend attending Kursus Kahwin organized at Bangunan Cahaya Suria near Puduraya. This was of course, some 8 years ago maybe? They had a topic on s*e*x by that famous doctor Sakit Tuan. There were other topics too, some useful, some interesting. As in any courses, some trainers were good, some were downright silly and some I slept right through.

Among the things that I paid good attention to and could still remember the ‘salient points’, even the expression on the trainer’s face is how Baju Kelawar can ruin a marriage.

The trainer said, nothing could turn-off the husband more surely than a Baju Kelawar.

Recently, about two weeks back, over a tv programme aired at ASTRO on marriages, Mr and Mrs Host told the audience that Baju Kelawar can cause this syndrome called ‘hilang nafsu’. I may be quoting them out of context here, so disregard what I concluded from the show and just pay attention to this – they don’t think Baju Kelawar and Good Marriage can go hand-in-hand.

Eight years and the message is still the same - Baju Kelawar can end a marriage.

I am no expert in marriages of course, or s*e*x for that matter. I have only been married 8 years. And through the years, things did not always happen on bed of roses, sometimes it was bed of nails, sometimes things didn’t happen at all, never mind what type of bed – pun intended.

One thing I have conviction of is this: Baju Kelawar is not the factor that defines a marriage. It is neither a deterrent nor it is the reason – babies happen with or without Baju Kelawar.

If your man wants to stay around, it doesn’t quite matter what you wear. Trainers, ustads, councilors should stress on other factors instead, like cleanliness maybe? Freshly laundered cotton cheapo humble Baju Kelawar surely is better than a never-washed, stained, naughty Victoria Secret lingerie? Baju Kelawar made of fine silk or satin can be very very sexy too. Caftan as it is called, has made it on international fashion runways. It can be sexy. So can plain batik sarung for that matter. At the end of the day, it doesn’t quite matter, does it? If baju-pergi-kebun turns you on, then by all means, go for it! Kan?

The message that shouldn’t be sent across is this: the husband strays because the wife wears Baju Kelawar around the house. Not many wives can afford a night gown. Kesian tau. One makcik cleaner I know cried telling me that her husband has left her for a younger woman. She blamed only herself, that she spent all her hard-earned money to buy things for her kids and not one good nightgown for herself. Come on lah.

If he wants to stay, he’ll find your weaknesses – adorable, endearing, cute. Even when you wear a Baju Kelawar that stinks of garlic and vomit, he’ll still be interested. In you as a person, nocturnal activities included.

If he wants to stray, as No.5 as you may smell, as sexy as your slip may be, hair streaked blonde, lips the ripest of red, he’ll still stray wont he? No amount of Jamu Mak Dara can help either. But that's another topic.

Yes, I agree that marriage shouldn’t be mundane, it shouldn’t be boring. Baju Kelawar isnt the reason why marriages are boring!

My late mom once said that one shouldn’t be like a novel that you can finish reading. One should once-in-while surprise oneself by exceeding one’s own expectation. I quite agree with her. Why be one novel when you can be many novels instead? Be interesting. Get interested. Be exciting. Be excited. Life itself is ever changing, no one day can be the same as another day, doesn’t that fact alone excite you? When you are not boring, you don’t fall asleep listening to yourself, wont that help perk up your relationship as well?

I say what you wear to bed should be the least of your worry! Go to bed butt-naked, go to bed wrapped up neatly like the dead, whatever you fancy, whatever he fancies!

Baju Kelawar should NOT be blamed for broken marriages.


Batgirl wears Baju Kelawar too. Sexy what!

Jiwa Rojak

Hari ini ialah hari penggunaan bahasa Melayu di jabatan saya.

Saya tahu, banyak kementerian menganjurkan Hari Bahasa Inggeris (BI) seminggu sekali. Namun pada pendapat saya, keadaan Bahasa Malaysia (BM) lebih parah lagi. Bila satu hari dalam seminggu dikhususkan untuk Bahasa Inggeris, hari yang enam lagi Bahasa Malaysia tetap tidak digunakan. Bahasa kebangsaan kita mungkin Bahasa Malaysia, namun bahasa pertuturan kita setiap hari adalah Bahasa Rojak. Kerana itu, kami menjadikan setiap hari Isnin sebagai hari BM.

Ketika suatu rancangan temubual di TV, ada suatu kementerian menghantar 3 wakil – seorang Cina, seorang Melayu dan seorang lagi berbangsa Inggeris. Rancangan TV tersebut disiarkan di RTM1 dan sepatutnya menggunakan Bahasa Malaysia.
Si Cina menggunakan BM dengan baik sekali.
Si Inggeris tidak tahu berbahasa Malaysia. Dimaafkan.
Si Melayu sama seperti si Inggeris. Alangkah malunya!
Saya sendiri sama bersalah. Saya lebih fasih berbahasa rojak dari BM ataupun BI. BM cukup makan, BI pula sekadar ‘so-and-so’.

Institut Alam dan Tamadun Melayu, (ATMA) UKM membuat penyelidikan terhadap penggunaan Bahasa Kebangsaan di media elektronik baru-baru ini dan melaporkan bahawa penggunaan BM di TV9 misalnya, adalah 0%. Menyedihkan! Stesen TV yang lain sama teruknya. Di TV3 beberapa hari sudah, sewaktu Buletin Utama, saya terlihat perkataan ‘fi’, digunakan untuk terjemahan ‘fee’. Mengapa ‘fi’ jika ada perkataan ‘yuran’ dalam perbendaharaan kata BM? Mengapa ‘orijinal’ kalau ada ‘asli’? Apresiasi, informasi, radiasi, persepsi? Ketika jabatan kami menerima kunjungan tetamu dari Amerika, dia mengaku kepada saya, betapa mudahnya pelancong di Malaysia. Bukan sahaja kerana hampir semua rakyat Malaysia boleh bertutur bahasa Inggeris, malahan sekiranya mereka menggunakan BM tetap mudah difahami kerana kebanyakan perkataannya adalah perkataan BI yang ‘dialih-eja’.

Ada tabung denda disediakan di jabatan saya, 10 sen untuk setiap perkataan BI yang digunakan hari ini. Akibatnya, seluruh jabatan saya senyap dan sunyi. SUSAHnya bila perlu berBM!

Small Thief Big Theft

Small Thief

We watched Time Traveller’s Wife at TGV of Sunway Pyramid. The movie was so-and-so, HBO standard I would say. Eric Bana has never looked so good, though :D.

5 minutes after we left the theatre, we realised that Yamtuan’s handphone, was missing. He must have dropped it as we were walking out from the place, or the HP could have slipped off from his lap. We rushed back inside, with TGV staff, but couldn’t find the HP. Rang the number many times, but it was on silent mode and whoever took it wasn’t in the mood to chat. The TGV staff asked us to fill up the Lost-and-Found form saying they would contact us if they hear anything. Not a chance, we thought, but filled up the form anyway.

I sent messages to the number. Saying please return the phone. The phone wouldn’t be valued much at 2nd hand HP dealers, but the content, the messages, the pictures, the phone directory are all high value to us. Return it, do the right thing, we’ll reward you, I said.

Wasn’t really hoping though.

About an hour after that, I received a call from that number. Akak mau ini phone balik? He asked to meet me outside of the Pyramid, at KFC. I said, no, I don’t know this place, I don’t know where outside is, or where KFC is located. Why don’t you come back inside, meet me at McD by the ice rink?

He agreed.

I asked Yamtuan to go get a Security personnel in case Mr Found wanted to ‘sell’ me the phone.

I sat by the smiling yellow Mr.Mc.Donald and saw the guy. He was wearing TGV shirt and even had a TGV nametag on. He was in the theatre with us, helping us look for the phone. He forgot to look in his pocket, apparently.

Said he wanted to return the HP earlier but was afraid his boss would be angry. Things found must be sent to Lost-and-Found counter immediately, which he didn’t. Yes, but why wait after an hour?

And there came the moment of awkward silence. He was probably waiting for me to honor my promise of bountiful reward. But my hands didn’t go anywhere near my purse. And then he said, he had to go. I said, thank you for doing the right thing. God will reward you. He smiled, I smiled. And he left.

As in any good Hindi movie, Yamtuan and Mr.Mean Muscles only arrived after the bad boys were beaten to pulp by the leading star.



Big Theft

My happiness was stolen.

I was careless, I left it lying around unattended. It must have slipped off from my lap, or fallen off from where I was sitting. I took it for granted, thought it was exclusively mine for keeps. I probably was too busy with daily chores, with living life, to really pay attention to it, my carelessness had a price. Any opportunist, any TGV operator could see it lying around and attempted to make it his/hers. In this case, the TGV operator happened to be someone’s wife, a mother of four kids.

Losing it was a big blow to me. It was like seeing my father passed away, or being told that my mother had passed on, over and over again. It was like someone just died. Someone I loved dearly- so dearly that I didn’t know how to mourn the loss. I didn’t know how to cry yet I must have cried oceans.

I could probably eventually get another one, but I didn’t want a new one, it wouldn’t be the same. I don’t care for better, I want the same worn-out ruggedy cheapo HP (happiness) that I had.

I sent messages to the thieves (she had an accomplice, of course). Saying please return my HP. It wouldn’t be valued much anywhere, but it meant the whole world to me. And my three kids.

Wasn’t really hoping though.

But miracles of miracles, I got it back. The accomplice realized that stealing is stealing, and decided to do the right thing (if it was the right thing, but that would be another bloggable material. I better not venture there).

And so it was handed back to me. It wasn’t whole anymore, not intact. In fact, the trust element at the base, was shattered to smithereens. I dont quite know how that can be fixed, but it must. Audio part had the laughter bit erased. Visual files had images of the thief that couldnt be deleted, try as i might.

Not whole. My HP wasn’t perfect to begin with, but I loved it. It has lost its beautiful colors. Looks bleak now. Contains many defects too, like it is falling apart. Some can be fixed, some will take a while. I can see it requires a lot of repair works, it will probably cost a chamber or two of my heart. Sigh. But I do believe that it is worth saving - whatever the cost.

I can only pray that life provides me with good UHUs and masking tape! Let's hope i still have a good stock of Patience and Strength for the job ahead.

Alhamdulillah, I got my HP back! At the moment, that’s all that matters.

As in any good Hindi movie, the songs are all mimed. Kajol in person, doesn’t really sing that well.

Selling - Lie Vs Die

Levi’s

A female customer sashayed into the Levi’s store. Rummaged through the many racks of many styles of the jeans. Found one style that she particularly liked. The right blue, the right cut. Not super-super low (stomach where to put?), not slim-fit either (more like fit with an ‘a’ in palce of ‘I’), and no tacky bling-blings (too old for shineshine). The jeans are perfect for her shape and style.
Happy with the gem she discovered, but couldn’t find the size that she wanted.

‘Excuse me,’ she nudged a salesman.. salesboy may be a better term to use.

‘Do you have this in waist size 28?’
He looked her up and down, eyes lingered at her waist a few seconds too long than necessary and replied OUT LOUD.

‘You sure ah? You look like you are a 31.’

She ended up not buying anything from the store. Never mind if her waist size was really 31.

Will she go there again? NEVER. Vomit blood.

La Senza

A customer waddled in the la Senza looking for a nightwear. Not too sexy lest her kids would be horrified, not too boring either or the husband would mistake her for his grandmother.

Found one Betty Boop set. Had ‘tease me’ on the front – perfect for the husband, but decent and cute enough to get approvals from the kids.

‘Is this ‘free size’?’ she asked the salesgirl.

‘No, it comes in various sizes. We have from XS to XL’

‘Let me try your M’ the customer said. She was really an L, but she did skip lunch earlier and went to the loo twice in the last hour. At that particular moment, she probably was an M (harapan).

‘You M? No way. Try the XS’ the salesgirl offered. Maybe we should call her ‘saleslady’ instead, no?

She ended up buying an M (a bit tight though, but never mind).

Will she go there again? You bet!

DISCLAIMER: Both cases may not necessarily be me.

God & Rezeki - according to my kids

1) There are these books on your shoulder where Allah grades you. If you do good, you get a ‘right’ (√) if you don’t, you’ll get a cross (x). A lot of rights will get you Nombor Satu.

2) If you suddenly ‘tebogel’, Allah will not laugh at you.

3) Askar kerja sumber rezeki.

4) Rezeki comes in through open doors. Sometimes He throws in cash, sometimes food, sometimes clothes.

5) Allah is only one, but He is everywhere at any one time.

6) Rezeki is anything everything that Allah gives and what a mother cooks.

7) Allah is bigger than ghosts or ultraman, by billionbillion times

Chet

Tinggalkan sekolah dah lama. Sama batch dengan saya, ada 203 orang (kalau tak silap). Mana-mana yang banyak ‘kes’ dan menonjol peribadinya, atau pernah berkongsi susah serba sikit atau geng ketawa, saya ingat lah sampai hari ni. Namun ada yang masa sekolah dulu, tak berapa bercampur dengan saya, tak ada peristiwa ketara untuk duduk mengenang dan ketawa bersama, maka mereka mudah saja lekang dari ingatan.

Zaitun adalah salah seorang dari mereka yang saya tak berapa ingat. Saya tahu disekolah dulu, dia dipanggil Chet. Dia kelas Sarjana, budak-budak perempuannya rock, dan mereka cukup berkawan sesama sendiri saja. Chet. Apa kesah bersama saya dengan Chet masa sekolah dulu? Entah. Tak ingat kalau ada.

Minggu lepas salah seorang rakan menitipkan berita, Chet baru kehilangan suami pada 18 Ogos lalu.

Sepanjang berkongsi hidup, mereka dianugerahkan 4 orang cahayamata. Paling tua berusia 15 tahun, paling muda baru 3 tahun.

Suaminya pergi tanpa petanda, tanpa sakit ketara. Tiba-tiba rebah dan pergi begitu saja. Mudah sungguh! Kita tak tau jadual kita. Entah bagaimana cara kita dijemput, entah apa yang kita sedang lakukan ketika masanya tiba.

Chet surirumah sepenuh masa.

Chet bukan sahaja kehilangan suami, dia kehilangan sumber kehidupan. Bagaimanalah Chet akan menyara anak yang empat orang?

Saya hubungi Chet. Bersembang dengannya beberapa minit. Tak kesahlah dia ingat saya atau tidak atau saya ingat dia atau tidak.

Tak tergamak pula nak tanya apa rancangan Chet selepas ini. Dalam hati, saya hanya boleh berharap suaminya pergi tanpa meninggalkan beban hutang yang banyak. Harap suaminya ada persiapan untuk keluarga seperti insuran dan wang simpanan memadai sehingga Chet boleh berdikari semula.

Ketika Abah pergi, kami juga tidak bersedia. Dia tak sakit, kelihatannya sihat dan gembira menyambut ketibaan Hari Raya. Seakan-akan hilang bumi tempat berpijak tatkala Abah tiba-tiba pergi.

Selepas tu, susahnya kami menguruskan kereta yang perlu dijual, pembinaan rumah yang terbengkalai, menguruskan pencen dan macam-macam lagi. Mak tak pernah pon tengok dokumen kereta. Macamana nak jual sedangkan dokumennya tak tau dimana? Mak surirumah sepenuh masa. Dia tak tau banyak urusan. Dia bergantung pada Abah. Sudahnya ada jiran yang pelawa diri untuk tolong, palsukan dokumen dengan dia sendiri jadi pemilik baru. Akibatnya, kami tak nampak duit tu. Mintak jugak sikit sebab nak Hajikan Abah – dapatlah cukup, itupun jiran yang sama juga uruskan. Entah lah, kami tak mau berburuk sangka.

Urusan pencen mengambil masa berbulan-bulan. Sehingga peringkat Mak makan nasi berulamkan garam. Sedekah orangramai tak bertahan lama. Simpanan Abah tak banyak dan dia tiada insuran nyawa. Adik masih sekolah, kakak dan saya masing-masing di universiti. Saya tak ada biasiswa.

Pada awal sebulan dua kematian Abah, jiran-jiran, kawan-kawan Mak-Abah, saudara mara, ramai yang membantu. Selepas beberapa lama, bantuan terhenti, sebab isteri masing-masing cemburukan Mak yang kini berstatus janda. Ketika Mak keliling kampong cari bunga untuk dibuat bunga rampai nak tabur di kubur Abah, fitnah yang tertabur! Kononnya Mak nak bunga-bunga itu untuk mandi bunga memohon jodoh baru. Kesian Mak.

Walaupun saya sendiri bekerja, Insya-Allah tak bergantung sepenuhnya pada suami, saya sendiri tak terbayang kehidupan tanpa dia. Malahan takut nak membayangkannya.
Saya tak mungkin faham perasaan Chet sebab saya tak pernah melaluinya. Namun saya kira saya faham perasaan anak-anak Chet yang ditinggalkan ayah.

Kalau bolehlah saya seru di sini, jika anda ex-SAMURA, jika anda kenal Zaitun Muhamad, batch SPM 1987 dan ingin membantu meringankan beban hidupnya dan membawa sedikit keceriaan untuk anak-anaknya di Hari Raya nanti, hubungi lah saya.

Jika anda tidak kenal Chet sekalipon, dan tetap ingin membantu, hubungilah saya.

Fenomena Biasa di Bulan Ramadhan

1. Mengantuk
Lepas Isya saya dah panjat katil. Kadang-kadang Isya’ postpone dengan niat nak buat sembahyang malam, sudahnya Isya berlaku waktu sahur. Bila dah pagi, perjalanan ke tempat kerja terasa begitu jauh dan memengantukkan. Di ofis pulak, sengkang mata dengan kayu mancis, tupang dagu dengan kayu ruler.

2. Sejuk
Kat ofis ni dah berjaket, berbalut bagai lepat pisang. Sejuknya. Kalau boleh nak pakai telekung sepanjang hari. Bila tangan mencecah air, aduhai menggelatuk gigi. Wudhu secara tayamum saja boleh? Tak tahan sejuk.

3. Bergaduh
Bergaduh dengan anak waktu kejutkan dia sahur. Bergaduh lagi petang-petang suruh dia cepat mandi dan bersiap sebab masa dah nak time.

4. Rindu Mak-Abah
Abah meninggal di hari raya. Emak meninggal sebelum puasa. Rindu rindu rindu. Masa mak ada dulu, kalau saya bertadarus dengan abah, mak kerap duduk sebelah tumpang mendengar. Selepas abah tak ada, saya kurang bertadarus. Mengaji malam sementara menunggu isya’ atau selepas sahur sementara menunggu Subuh. Mak akan buatkan air dan teman mengaji.

Waktu ini, saya tak perlu mak masakkan macam-macam yang tekak teringin, tak perlu jugak khidmat nasihat mak tentang masalah harian. Memadai kalau mak ada duduk saja disebelah – cukup lah.

5. Overdose karipap
Hari-hari atas meja mesti ada karipap untuk berbuka. Kurma pon ada, itu sunnah Nabi. Karipap ni tak tau lah mana sunnah mana sunni.

6. Yamtuan jadi orang Kelantan
Ini lah satu-satunya bulan dalam setahun yang Yamtuan akan makan nasi kerabu hari hari. Ketika ini, lidahnya menipis, dia tersasul-sasul bila bercakap. Kojap ‘kato’ kojap ‘kecek’, kojap ‘manggo’, kojap ‘pauh’. Confuse betul. Raya ni tak tau lah dia nak balik Pilah ke nak balik Kelantan.

Fox, Turtle and Me

Dot’s latest short story is about Mother Fox and Mother Turtle. Both just had babies hatched from their eggs (she still thinks all babies hatched from eggs). The story was basically on how both mothers searched for food and protect their hatchlings from harm’s way. Each had their own style of mothering; one’s best intention may be the other’s worst nightmare. Quite deep, but told by Dot in all the simplicity and innocence of a six-year-old. She even had a little line of ‘moral’ at the end of it, just like Aesop’s.

Mothering is not easy an easy job – no one says it is. Mother Ood can sit with Mother Fox and Mother Turtle and we will all have many things in common. We would do anything everything for our offspring – die if we must, kill if the need arises. The babies, newly-hatched, bald, ugly and as slimy as they may be, sit highest in our list of priorities. I probably would do what Foxy did. Hmmm...

Now Mother Ood has a little hatchling watching her moves and then weave stories from her observations. Makes Mother Ood kind of nervous and under pressure to behave, dont you think?