My Prayer

Today the 7th of December 2008. It has been 10 days since I last blog. I'll do that again in the near future after things are all in place. For now, I'm either in Malaysia, Singapore or Batam.

Today, 9th Dzulhijjah 1429, Muslims performing haj are all congregating at Arafah.
As I'm typing this, Astro Channel 111 ART is beaming live telecast from the wukuf place of Arafah of the activity took place at the holy place.
The sight of it makes my heart beats faster and my eyes welled with tears. Now is the most sacred time to pray for the eve of 'Iidul Adha, the sky is wide open for prayers to reach direct to HIM.
I really hope and pray that I will be at the holy place again very, very soon, GOD willing. It has been 3 years since the last time I was there.

LABBAIKA LLAAH HUMMA LABBAIK.
Here I am, O Allah. Here I am.

LABBAIKA LAA SYAREEKA LAKA LABBAIK.
Here I am. You have no partner. Here I am.

INNAL HAMDA WANNI'MATA LAKA WALMULK, LAA SYAREEKA LAK.
Surely all praise, grace and dominance is Yours, and you have no partner.

The Haj Story - Who's The Strongest Of All ?

It was just a normal conversation over lunch. A normal worry being shared with friends at the table by the food operator. He wondered who's the strong man able to carry 50Kg of rice bag.

During his business days, he's the only person that performed the task. The bags of rice are just too heavy to be lifted by others at the premise.
Now, he's in Mecca performing his haj, they must be having difficulties moving the bags of rice. He wondered if the business will run well without him around...

He was not at the dinner table.
Wasn't feeling well, said the wife. So she brought food to the room.

The next morning, the wife said that the husband could not take in any food. She needed help to bring the husband to the doctor.

The doctor could not determine if the food operator was sick. He had to be aided to sit, walk and toileting.

Fortunately we performed 'Haji Ifrad' - haj rituals before umrah. The conversation took place right after we were back to the hotel after our first umrah - minor haj. It was supposed to be a kind of celebration that all the 'wajib' - the must-do rituals, were all accomplished.

The wife face the coming days with great confidence that the husband will be fine, will be going to Masjidil Haram - The Grand Mosque, praying and performing their umrah - minor haj together.
They were looking forward to shop around with S$5 thousands in hand. She was positive. She knew him as a strong man and laying in bed unproductively was not the husband.
She never knew of him ever being sick or pay a visit to any doctor.

But the next 2 weeks spent in Mecca did not see any improvement in his worsening health. He could not lift his arms nor opening his mouth.
Sipping orange juice with a straw was his only diet.
Visitors to his room were surprised with his sudden change and those who knew him from Singapore could not believe their eyes - Seeing the once fit and healthy person.

When it was time to leave Mecca for Madinah, he was pushed in a wheelchair to perform his 'Tawaf Wida' - encircling the holy Ka'abah for the last time.

Alas, he was at the dinner table enjoying his soft meal with his wife in Medinah. Although the look was visibly pale and very much thinner, he's able to walk slowly to Masjidin Nabawi - The Prophet's Mosque.

He spent much of his time in Raudhah - the most sacred place in Masjidin Nabawi.
He cried a lot in his prayers - pronouncing his regret of what he thought of him being the strongest person around.
Whatever GOD giveth, HE taketh as HE wish. He should not be unduly worry for HE is the AlMighty Provider.

The one day spent in Jeddah for sight-seeing and shopping did not bring back his confidence. He was still in the state of shock.
For now, he realised that what bestowed upon us are all but borrowed and shall be returned in the ways that we could not imagine...

A Man Made Accident?

All of a sudden, the motorbike swerved to the right. Luckily it was Sunday morning and there was very few vehicles on Pan Island Expressway ( PIE ). If not, there will be no posting of this article.

The motorbike had run on something sharp that caused the puncture to the wheel.

Good gracious!!!
There was not a single vehicle around when the incident occurred. My husband pushed the bike to the road shoulder.

The very moment it was parked, came a very suspicious rescue-man on a bike.

"Punctured?" He asked. My husband nodded.

In a flash, he opened up his black utility-box full of tools for repairing breakdown-vehicles.

I timed his work as I was surprised with his immediate attendance.
My mind started to recall articles that I read in papers about nails being strewn all over the main road and stories about motorists relating their doubts and suspicions of somebody doing it with evil intention of self monetary gain. 


A flat 10 minutes it took to change the tyre.

As he wiped his hand, I can see heap of cloth-rags nicely folded and placed in the front-basket of his bike.

"20 dollars." He quoted his price.

"No Singapore money. Malaysia only." I don't feel bad about lying this time. After-all, his bike is Johore plated.

We stood at the roadside.

As I was about to make a call to inform I'll be late for class, he decided "O.k., o.k. 40 ringgit."

The sum was paid.

I told my husband of my uneasiness towards this repairman - But he reasoned it's no good accusing others whom we are not 100% sure of the wrongdoing.


The next morning, over the radio news, it was mentioned that a car had skidded, swerved to the right and overturned somewhere along Kranji Expressway the night before.

I was grieved with the news. Was it the same scenario that my husband and I faced the same morning?

For many months I kept the motorcycle plate-number  in my mind but I could not be 100% sure if he's the real culprit.

After a few years, after the plate-number is no longer in my mind, I hope the incident will not be ever happening again.

The Other World Story - Mind Your Family Members

The neighbourhood doctor assured all will be well again.

Baby Aimi will bounce back in no time, but his body temperature had been on pendulum for weeks.
The several visits to the doctor found nothing wrong with him, just a slight fever.

My Father sensed something was not right.
He prayed hard for his grandson's health - GOD giveth and HE knows best the remedy.

While deep in prayer, an 'invisible old man' sat with My Father on his praying rug.
The 'invisible old man' accused Aimi of inflicting eye injury to his child while Aimi was playing with sharp sticks thus 'the invisible family' retaliated, hence the fluctuating fever.

My Father reminded them of the promise of peace that 'the forefathers of  the invisible family' made to the ALMIGHTY CREATOR - They could not take to heart over an innocent child's act - Aimi could not see them.
My Father wanted Aimi's active days back and demanded 'the invisible family' to move out of the house.

'The invisible family' refused to barge off.
They insisted they had resided atop the hill named Kaki Bukit generations ago before it was bulldozed - Long before the flat which My Sister's family reside, was built.

Yes, I knew that too.
I used to follow My Mother to her teacher's house at Jalan Ambok Solo, somewhere at the foot of the hill - Coincidentally the place is called Kaki Bukit.
No visible human being stay at the hill.
So, naturally 'those invisibles' took over the permanent residency.

The scenic hill had seen many Malay films being shot there.
Although I'm not a whatever film fan, but I remember the mentioning in the media of the late Nordin Ahmad was there too for the shot.

******

An agreement was made - 'The invisible old man', stay they could, but should any such unfavourable incident to happen again, out they must.
After more than 20 years, that was the only hiccup with 'the invisible'.

To each, his own family.

The Dream Of Real Golden Opportunities

A 68 year-old villager, Abdullah Abdul Rahman, of Marang, Terengganu, was digging a very hard hole to make his toilet when he noticed the muddied water shines.

He scooped, cleaned and sieved the mud.
His effort paid when he found it to be pure gold.
He used to get about RM1,000 for 12 gram weekly, for the precious metal.
He had dug 1.8 metre deep in his backyard.
I would say that the man is sleeping on a 'very precious bed' made of pure gold based on the report in The New Paper, 19th August 2008.

******

My mother used to tell me that when she was young, she knew of a man who saw in his dream of finding pots and pots of gold buried beneath his house.
He kept digging and gigging the earth underneath - nobody could warn him of danger, nobody could stop him until he was buried in the self-dug grave.
He was said to be obsessed with the voice heard in himself.
He was said to become insane.

******

If anybody could remember, sometime in December last year, at anytime, up to 500 people can be spotted camping out and digging for gold along Mersing beach in Johor.

A 51 year-old Mr Ramli Harun had dream that a princess had her gold left scattered at the beach.
After 2 weeks of searching the exact location, scooping and sieving mud and sand, an initial sum of RM3,600 worth of gold finding is definitely a handsome reward.

******

Many years back, I met a long lost friend who was wearing a pair of ear-studs made of very rare dark-pink oval-shaped stones with gold glitters splashed and embedded in them - I could not take my eyes off them.
She noticed my attention and was forthright in telling me that his uncle had found the pair of stones in Mount Moor, some where near Mount Ophir (Gunung Ledang) if I'm not mistaken, in Johor too.
He saw in his dream that she's the rightful owner.

Wow, as I am posting this article, I wonder when will my turn be...
Pray for me that it will be the soonest possible as nothing is impossible.
GOD willing.

The Haj Story - Naivety And Realisation

Indescribable - The exact word to describe the fragile, elderly woman whom I saw in Prophet's Mosque - Masjid Nabawi.

With layers of tattered, dirty clothings to keep her warm in the chilling weather of Madinah, impossible for her bony legs to support her body. She leaned against one of the many pillars, sitting on the kerb, her skinny right hand holding a long pole made from a cut-out tree branch.

Never in my life did I ever see a person with hollow nose from the bridge downwards.
With very charcoally-like skin, she's 'The Most Outstanding Human Being' in the midst of thousands of congregations who had just finished performing their prayers.
I wondered how she's able to reach deep inside the vast mosque.

I asked my then 12 year old Girl for some money to give to the imperfect soul.
She refused to hand over - I told her I'll return the amount immediately when I get from her Dad - She insisted my sister gave her the loose change for buying ice-cream.
Ice-cream only!

When The Dad finally arrived and I had money in hand, the soul that pricked my heart was no longer there!!!
How could that be???
Even if she was to walk away, impossible for her to be totally out of sight when able-bodied worshipers had to move slowly with the crowd.
It's just a matter of few minutes!
We looked around but the lost soul was no where to be found.

My Girl realised her wrongdoing.
She said her sorry and was reaching for her loose-change purse which was always in the sling-bag.
She realised it was not there.
Thinking it was left in the hotel room, although we doubt so, we did a fruitless search.

The incident left a deep regret in her.
But being just 12, she treasured her 2 weeks supply of ice-cream money which was close to SR100.
Of course Dad paid up for her naivety.

For a week we looked out for the indescribable woman and we asked around, but it bore no answer.

Years had passed.
After another few more visits to the same place, not the same incident happened again but more memorable episodes followed...

Remembering Them Who Feed Us

Planting rice is never fun
Work from morning till set of sun
Cannot stand and cannot sit
Cannot rest for a little bit.

That's the song always been sung
In classes before primary one
The work of those who feed us
Under the scorching hot sun is a must.


The farmers that plant our basic food
Labouring and scattering the seeds of livelihood
Waterlogged fields their feet are planted to
Pulling out weeds with weathered hands too.

Months and months for grains ripening
Oh weather, do have mercy on them
Anxiety and fear are phases to harvesting
Livelihood at stake for family and friends.

When yields are weighed and price are paid
Across muddy fields again they must wade.

At least for once when meal is served
We thanked all the farmers
Acknowledgment they do deserved
In defying us from hunger.