Aku, Kamu dan Bangsa Dia.

Esei ini ditulis dalam bahasa yang dianggap masyarakat masakini sebagai bahasa Melayu

Orang kita sikapnya tolak ansur dan kita dah biasa undur ke beiakang sikit untuk kasi bangsa dia jalan di depan. Biasalah, orang kita ni penuh sopan santun, budi bahasa. Orang memberi kita merasa. Kalau kita di belakang tak apa lah, biarlah bangsa dia jalan dulu.

Dahulu nampaknya macam nak berubah. Tapi sekarang ini zahirnya masih sama saja. Anak-anak bangsa dia diasuh rapi ibu-bapa. Anak orang kita masih ramai yang diasuh rapi geng kongsi gelap, geng skinhead, geng metal, geng motor dan sebagainya geng yang langsung tak ada faedah. Tak apa lah, nanti dah tua anak kita boleh bertaubat. Itu belum masuk lagi bab pasal anak-anak orang kita yang tak ada segan silu langsung. Bukan sedikit yang kerjanya penggoncang arak di kelab malam lah, jadi waiter kedai makan tak halal lah. Bangsa dia tengok pun jadi confuse. "I thought not halal? Can work there, meh?" Tak apa lah, kita mesti open minded, pe.

Anak bangsa dia kalau masuk universiti berduyun-duyun jakon nak rnasuk jurusan kedoktoran lah, undang-undang lah. Tu hebat, tu. Kerjanya baik, gajinya nanti lumayan, tempat kerjanya high class lagi. Anak orang kita kalau dapat masuk universiti sekali pun entah kenapa kemaruk nah nak masuk bidang engineering lah, construction lah, mekanikal lah. Kenapa jarang sekali anak orang kita nak jadi doktor ke, loyar ke? Tapi ye ye nah nak jadi mekanik? Tak apa lah, orang kita kan dah biasa kerja kotor.

Bila tiba hari kebangsaan, orang kita mesti kena komen dulu oleh PM, kan? Bertahun-tahun asyik "Bangsa Melayu bertambah maju..." atah "Bangsa melayu menampakkan sedikit kemajuan..." Hai, belum maju-maju lagi ke orang kita ni? Setiap tahun asik "bertambah maju" saja. Bila masanya PM nak cakap "sudah maju"? Dah tu orang kita bukan main gembira kena puji sikit dengan PM. Orang kita ni memang pantang kena puji. Yei! Tak apa lah, asal PM kata kita makin maju. Tapi jumlah anak orang kita yang lulus di peperiksaan peringkat "O" Levels masih begitu sedikit kalau dibandingkan dengan prestasi anak-anak bangsa dia. Takapa lah, sekurang-kurangnya ada juga sikit kemajuan.

Bangsa dia kalau ada ilmu, begitu lokek nak kongsi dengan orang kita. Simpan sendiri, kaup untung sendiri. Tapi kalau orang kita ada ilmu sedikit setotek mana pun, tak teragak-agak nak kongsi dengan bangsa dia. Takapa lah, kan orang kita ni pemurah. Sebagai contoh hasilnya, banyak makanan orang kita dah jadi makanan bangsa dia. Otak-otak dah jadi "otah". Putu piring dah jadi "kueh tutu". Nasi Lemak dah jadi "Nasi Lomat". Orang kita langsung tak diberi apa-apa kredit atau pengiktirafan. Diorang anggap macam diorang lah yang invent makanan turun-temurun nenek moyang orang kita ni. Kalau makanan itu merupakan identiti dan maruah sesuatu kaum, maka orang kita dak hilang banyak identiti dan maruah. Eh, tak apa lah, kita kan mesti kongsi ilmu. Jadi tak apa lah kalau orang kita hilang mata pencarian yang unik, ya? Kenapa orang kita tak curi-curi belajar buat bahkut teh halal ke? Dah tu boleh orang kita export ke luar negara. Kenapa asik barang kita aje yang kena tiru?

Setiap tahun bangsa dia ada kempen "Speak Mandarin". Diorang anjurkan bahawa bahasa diorang tu adalah satu aset. Orang kita pun tak ketinggalan turut belajar bahasa dia. Tapi bila masanya orang kita nak adakan kempen "Speak Malay" besar-besaran? Nah, bukankah bahasa kita juga suatu aset. Lebih-lebih lagi kerana negara kita ini terletak di tengah-tengah wilayah tanah Melayu. Tak ke kita rasa janggal tiba-tiba di tengah-tengah wilayah Melayu ada sebuah negara yang yang majoriti penduduknya berbangsa dia dan kebanyakan tak reti berbual bahasa kita? Tak apa lah, bangsa dia pun dah jadi rakyat negara kita, kan! Betapa sedihnya, pasal orang kita sendiri tak tahu yang bahasa Melayu ini adalah bahasa rasmi Singapura.

Jadi lantarannya begini, walau apa pun yang nak jadi kat bangsa kita, orang kita masih tak rasa apa-apa. Jarang sekali kelihatan daya saing orang kita untuk naikkan lagi martabat bangsa yang hilang entah ke mana. Kita akur memang ada segelintir yang gigih, tapi majoritinya masih membuta atau membabi buta. Memang benar kata PM yang orang kita "bertambah maju". Tapi jika kemajuan boleh dikira dengan perangkaan kadar peratus, berapa majukah kita sekarang berbanding dengan 20, 10 atau 5 tahun dulu? Sudahkah kita mengatasi kejayaan bangsa dia, atau dekat pada itu? Mampukah kita bersaing lagi? Apakah nanti suatu masa orang kita akan tersinkir dari tanah sendiri?

'Tak apa lah, kita kan orang Melayu".

***

(Penulis adalah seorang yang tak segan silu mengaku dia sedikit sebanyak ada berdarah Melayu dan amat mencintai Singapura sebagai tumpah darahnya. Tapi at times, dia fed-up pasal orang Melayu macam heck care, gitu).

© 2003-2007 mohammadzahid

Tags: malay, melayu, bangsa melayu, Singapura, Singapore, bahasa melayu, malay language

Of Self-Censorship and the One That Gives a Damn.

"How come you don't write about yourself eh? You only write stories" - That was someone's comment upon reading my entries.

Well, I hate to give this away, but you know that in order to read and understand my entries, you have to sift through my metaphors, my tongue-in-cheek comments, my sarcasm, my exaggerations and your own perceptions. Only at the end will you be able to finally, if at all, decipher, what I'm trying to get at.

Then what's wrong with calling a spade a spade? Why do I have to refer to "water" as "milk", "quarel" as "song & dance" and "company reception" as "nightclub"? Why do I have to thwart people's perception of myself?

Because I write glam. I write satire. And as far as I can, I write art. For example my deleted entry "Ice on the Dancefloor", and "the Writer, the Sinner, the Puppeteer", "Grouses of a Seriously Unfunny Circus Monkey", and more recently, "Of Love and Lust". People's perception can only be as thwarted as they already are, without even reading my entries.

There is nothing satirical or artistic about writing: "This is a nice phone. I want to buy it when it's out. I can't stop looking at it. It's driving me crazy" This is not my style. And if this is the style you would rather read, look somewhere else. I'm sure there are many other teeny-bopper sounding blogs out there that can cater to your need.

Instead, with all splendour, I wrote with the usual flamboyance: "His passion for her is burning his heart, and his desire consuming his soul. He waits. Knowing that all he could afford now is to steal glances at the images of her alluring figure."

Voi La! Provocative, intriguing, sexy. Words of Love - for a goddamn handphone.

Lately I received a few suggestions to just write in a simple, non-sensational, non-threatening, non-provocative and non-perception-thwarting kind of manner. In short, apply self-censorship. Good suggestion - but that's exactly what I will not do.

Perhaps, out of respect to darling, my family and myself, I will attempt to water down some of these entries. But still, I shall always keep that distinctive style.

Where self-censorship does not necessarily apply.

Of love and lust.

He first laid his eyes on her the last fortnight. Amidst all the discordant and noisy convival and seemingly festive backdrop, he all but noticed that she was a figure of fleeting confidence, with the aura of unmistakable intrigue.

She sings a strange yet familiar song, which in a way never comprehensible, causing those surrounding her to break into a dance, as if in trance. Her tanned skin glistening under the glare of the sun.

How he desires to run his fingers around her swelte contours. Her body lustful and wanting. He would whisper words of love into her ears and kissing her lips and she would speak tenderly to him, her voice as raspy and balmy as the soothing winds of the alps.

His passion for her is burning his heart, and his desire is consuming his soul. He waits. Knowing that all he could afford now is to steal glances at the images of her alluring figure.

Of the Inclusive Society and the One That Gives A Damn

(An extract of my Educational Pshychology write-up on the definition of an "Inclusive Society")

The definition of an “inclusive society” to me is one that accepts and makes no difference of the presence of people who are perceived to be off-the-mainstream in nature. These include the elderly, the sick, the physically and mentally disabled, the unemployed and even the confused in terms of gender. The emphasis here is that an inclusive society is a caring one that supports the needs of the poor and unfortunate, thus allowing them to play integral roles, even key roles, in the society.

At the moment I feel that, in general, Singaporeans are yet to earn the moniker “a graceful society”, much less an “inclusive” one. As we scurry about daily to do what we perceive as the most important jobs in the universe and serve the most important people around – our own selves – we tend to forget, and at times we intentionally or unintentionally deny the interest of that pregnant woman on the train or that handicapped driver from whom we cavalierly robbed a parking lot. Then there others among us who cheekily embezzle millions from poor old people who desperately need kidney dialysis just to buy a gold walking stick. That lady with the infected legs begging outside Tampines MRT does not have to beg if someone gives her a job.

In an inclusive society, people regardless of their ability, status, race, religion and language get a fair chance to play integral roles - regardless of race, language or religion - although the reality now is that even people of sound qualifications are being denied employment just because they don’t speak a certain language. And even if they do, they may at times be automatically perceived as not good enough because they are not of a certain skin colour.

Tags: inclusive society, Singapore, graceful society, equality

The Writer, the Sinner & the Puppeteer

Alone in his room, he attempted to discern the myriad of thougts and emotions that ran through his veins. In that state of sombre solitude, he was visited by the many horrid visions. His heart paced. He inhaled harder the air which had been overpowered with an uncanny scent of wilted lavender.

His frail, quivering hand on the typewriter. No words could ever describe the caucophony of sentiments playing inside him, touching him to his very core. Never could he comprehend how affected he could be at the recurrence of such vicissitude.

For Life had once again turned its grim face upon him. Life, then peering at him through its horrid sunken eyes, threatened to reveal its dark secrets which would challenge his very belief in his very own existence. Yet all this wasn’t a stranger to him. Only this time, he found himself trapped in his own mechanism. A vile plot that had taken a dark twist. The puppeteer had become his own puppet, entagled in an indomitable web of Chance.

He could only wait for whatever retribution that Life had for him. His heart ever praying for mercy, yet knowing that he was no longer worthy of such propitious reprieve. The venemous verdict had been vouched. And the prisoner only lives in the excruciating wait of his fated punishment.



© 2007 zahidyne

Of Straits Kitchen and its Banquet likeness.

Pardon me, but this entry should really belong in the Review section. But just this once, if you will, allow me to critique on this restaurant in its full Zahidyne-ish splendour.

Let's begin with the food. A restaurant is most memorable for its food, isn't it not? Well, I concurred - until my Straits Kitchen experience. Straits Kitchen fare shall always remind me of Banquet Bedok.

Food is good, but not that fantastic. Chinese, Malay and Indian show kitchens churn out hawker fare such as char kway teow, laksa, chicken rice, tandoori chicken and grilled stingray. That said, the range of food is somewhat limited. To add, one can easily find better tasting food in Geylang or Bedok at more humble prices. I reckon The fare here is recommended for people who are too shy - or not too smart - to pay $3.00 for a plate of Chicken Rice.

To their credit, the Indian butter chicken was the arguably best you can find anywhere on the island and the roasted duck was highly superb with its sweet, juicy and rubbery flesh. These 2 should be highest in your pecking order.

The atmosphere... Well, close your eyes while you are chewing and you'd think you're at Banquet Chinatown. To say that the place reverberates with energy is spot-on: some of the more jakon customers (read: Mainland Chinese) were tirelessly speaking on top of their voices, as usual, like they've never seen food before, as usual. To complement this Chinatown-ness, the piped music was very considerately playing a contemporary Chinese pop CD, meant of course, for the Chinese ears. The other customers - the Arabs, North and South Indians, Koreans, Australians, Malaysians, Indonesians, Filippinos - are secretly expected to make their own music by clicking their own tongues.

To be fair (and I have been fair thus far), the lighting was warm and clever. That keeps you from choking on your shellfish.

A rather kind review by the Straits Times Interactive on Straits Kitchen (they're siblings) quoted: "Making it halal is also a point in its favour. Muslims who can't patronise hawker centre stalls can now check out what they have been missing out on." (emphasis mine)

But that's why Banquet was created.

Tags: Straits kitchen, asian food

Do Muslims worship the black box in the desert?

(Okay, got the above question in a forum. As Ramadhan is the month of knowledge, I have attached the reply below for all. God knows best).

Thank you for asking me about my religion. Through your term "black box in the desert", I understand that you refer to the Ka'abah in Makkah, now part of Saudi Arabia.

The Ka'abah is not an object of worship. We worship God alone, and we do not represent Him in any physical form. The Ka’abah is only the focus point in our worship of God Almighty. It symbolizes the unity of all Muslims in all generations, as they all turn toward it when they pray.

It acquires its importance from the fact that it is the first house ever built for human worship. This is clearly stated in the Qur'an: "The first House (of worship) ever set up for mankind was in deed the one at Bacca: Rich in blessing; and a source of guidance to all the worlds." (3: 96) Incidentally, Bacca is another name of the city of Makkah. It was built by the two prophets Ibrahim and Ismail on God's orders and by His guidance.

Bacca is also mentioned by name in The Bible in Psalms 84:6:

"⁵ Blessed are those whose strength is in you,
who have set their hearts on pilgrimage.
⁶ As they pass through the Valley of Bacca,
they make it a place of springs;
the autumn rains also cover it with pools.

Muslims know that the Ka’abah itself has no power to benefit or harm anyone. It is a blessed place for our worship, but worship is addressed to God alone. Muslims in pilgrimage encircle the Ka'abah, during which we praise and glorify God.

For more information on Islam, may I recommend you to these reliable websites www.islamalways.com and www.islamonline.net.

Peace and Blessings of God be upon all.

Tags: islam, muslim, kaaba, the black box

Grouses of a Seriously Unfunny Circus Monkey

Grouses of an seriously unfunny circus monkey

“Hullo… Hey, you’re funny. You made me laugh so freaking hard. I’m sitting on my bed now naked and drying my hair. But thinking of what you said in the morning made me burst out laughing. I like you already. Tell me more funny stuff. Make me laugh! More, please! You’re awesome!”

I have not the slightest idea why people would normally perceive me as a funny guy when they first come to know me. Perhaps in one inspired, opportune moment, the little stand-up comedian living inside me reaches out to make himself heard. And it’s him - not me - that makes people laugh. Whatever it is, I am fine with taking all the credit.

Well, I am glad I can be a source of some wholesome, quality amusement. And I hate to reveal this, knowing such revelation may even dramatically decrease my already low blog readership. But the truth be told, I am not a funny person. I am in fact a serious person who does serious stuff.

I spend my days observing the breathing patterns of the specks of dust that has gathered around my bedpost. At night I occupy myself by counting the number of red hair on my non-existent purple cat. As a hobby, I take the delight in giving names to each member of the ant colony that has now taken over my toilet – only serious names like Margaret, Richard, Andrew.

Please do not be disappointed if you no longer crack under my jokes. Please do not be alarmed if I get cranky the whole day. Trust me, I am just being focused with serious stuff.

The seriously serious person that I am, I can be seriously perturbed when I am expected to be someone I really am seriously not.

I woke up today feeling like a retired circus monkey now living under the keen observation of a young, naïve and unreasonably enthusiastic audience.

“I saw him at the circus, Mommy. He can do those swirly-wirly tricks. The fat guy at the stall said I can have him for $1.77, inclusive of GST. Watch him do tricks, Mommy. Isn’t he the cutest thing? Isn’t he funny?”

This monkey quietly sits in the corner observing all the fuss about him. He sits without budging. Its arms tightly folded with an unmistakable oh-my-god-this-is-ridiculous look on his face.

Colours. (Leave an apple on my desk, but please do not ask for a card)

Excuse me for a moment. I need to sit down and deliberate.

I'm en route to that career I've always wanted. I left the legal sector when I was just starting my climb up the ladder. And the thought that I'm in the course of committing to something for life is unbearably crippling. Whatever possibilities that may await me out there, I might never come to know.

I used to answer people's question on my occupation with at least some considerable pride. "I'm a legal executive. Here's my card. Call me". Nowadays, my reply to that very same question will only be welcomed by blank, sceptic stares accompanied by at least 3 seconds of utter silence.

"I'm a teacher. (No card. Don't bother calling unless your kid needs tuition)".

Nonetheless, this is the path I have chosen. It took me years to decide and now that I am here, I will keep the faith. There are too many things to do in here, too many things to contribute and I shall not have time for myself to wallow in self-regret.

They will come to me like white fabric, and I shall paint them in vivid hues. And everyone who comes by to look at the paintings will utter "What beautiful colours! What priceless masterpieces!" The people may not even know who the painter is. But they will appreciate his artwork. At the end of the day, this painter shall look outside his window, knowing that his artpieces are now somewhere out there being appreciated and loved.

Smiling in his heart, he shall paint again.

Tags: teacher, education, educator, students