Thursday, April 26, 2007

Adibah Amin & As I Was Passing

I have to thank my daughter for the gift. Not because she gave me anything but because of her persuasive ability and persistence to get me out of the house and taking her along on our father-daughter’s hanging out session at Ampang Point. The sessions that always start with Sushi at the Octopus and end with a visit to the Popular Bookstore and they wouldn’t be complete until we spend at least 2 hours lingering in the bookstore. I never complained though. I am happy and proud to have kids that are willing to sit on the floor of a bookstore for hours. And, I won’t panic if they are lost in a bookstore. I mean, what’s the worst thing that could happen in a bookstore? Your kid won’t be bullied by a rotten-to-roots spoiled book. Your kid won’t be kidnapped by a gang of bad-assed books. Unless, the Myanmar couple moved their operations from Sogo to the bookstores. If that really happened, the worst thing that could happen is I would have a daughter with a Skinhead hair-do (Ooopss…did I say that?). More than anything else, I want my kids to love books more than they love their PS2 and Barbie dolls. And, thank God, because of her fascination for books, I was reunited with my childhood idol. Not in person but through her books.

Because of my daughter, I had a privilege of picking up Khalidah Adibah Binti Amin a.k.a. Adibah Amin’s As I Was Passing and As I was Passing II, the 2-volumed precious collections from her column of the same title. I must have read them earlier. I knew I have. After all, I was the biggest fan of hers. Maybe I read them straight from the newspaper or maybe from the earlier collections. I knew I have read them all. After all, I was her biggest fan.

As I was going through sentence by sentence and line by line of the books, I could smell Adibah’s writings although I didn’t remember reading any of them before. A weird but amazing feeling indeed, much like being with your wife of 15 years but feeling like it was your first night together.

It’s funny how a book can affect you. Any innocent little book could be the ‘Fitness First’ and aprodisiac for your brains and memory banks. As I Was Passing series were simply magical, even to a 40-year old brain like mine.

As I was going through the pages, I remembered when I was growing up. Reading was always my favourite past time. And every time, the newspaper man arrived on his motorbike, no matter where I was, no matter what I was doing, I would run to the front door and jump down to meet ‘Pakcik Suratkhabar’. He was my superhero. He was the saviour that save me from my boredom. And, one time, when he had an accident and missed a few days of his delivery, I was having the worst time of my life.

Well, I was a kampung kid. I grew up in a farmers’ village with huge padi fields, about 10 miles from Kota Bharu. But, unlike other kids who were drawn to kampung boys’ activities like making and flying kites, hunting and trapping birds, fish-fighting or having natural 'mandi lulur' (mud-bathing) side by side with a gang of buffaloes in the padi fields, I was attracted to books, comics and newpapers instead. And, Adibah Amin was always my favourite writer. To me, she was the goddess.

I never knew Shakespeare like I knew Adibah Amin. Well, I was never exposed to English literature when I was growing up. Not where I was from, anyway. I did know who Shakespeare was, though. I knew Shakespeare not through his ‘Hamlet’, ‘Romeo & Juliet’ and his other masterpieces. I knew Shakespeare as Shakespeare. I knew that Shakespeare was a writer, and, that’s pretty much it. And, throughout my pre-adolescence years, the image of Adibah was always bigger than that of Shakespeare. It still is, even today.

I have high respect for her ability to write. Her stories were always about things that happen around us, although I must admit that I couldn’t relate to some of her stories when I was a kid. Not because of the stories but because who I was and where I was from. I was just a naïve and plain kampung boy who was never exposed to or experienced some of things she wrote about. Or, maybe because I was too little to understand some of the things. Nonetheless, her magic touch never failed to suck me in to her world through her stories. Armed with a thick Longman’s dictionary, I was a boy on a mission.

I learned English through her other column, too. Long before I knew Betty S. Azar. Long before I was in Dr. Whittfeld’s Linguistic 101 class. In a way, she was one of my first English teachers I remembered, besides Cikgu Nik Rosni who gave me 3 books, ‘Cinderella’, ‘Rapunzel’ and ‘Beauty and the Beast’ as a present for getting the highest marks when I was in Standard 1 or 2 and Mr. Chung Han Teik who taught me songs when I was in Standard 3 and whom I met again when I was in Form 5 at Sek Men Ismail Petra.

Adibah Amin was a big part of my life growing up and with the two books that I bought, she will always be. Reading products of her creativity is a great pleasure to me. And, I will always be her biggest fan.

Thank you, Adibah and may God bless you with happiness and great health for years to come, Amen.

Chazz

Monday, April 23, 2007

Tulsa, Zulrushdi & St. Louis

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Friday, April 13, 2007

Bye Bye baby

Friday
It was Good Friday. A public holiday for certain states. Even, my son’s school, St John’s Institution was closed to observe the holiday. It was certainly not a good Friday for Roze when she started complaining about the pain and the heavy discharge she was experiencing. At that point, she was nothing else but certain that she had lost the baby. I knew she was worried about it. That was Roze, being herself. That was Roze whom I married 14 years ago. “Okay, never mind if we lost it. Just don’t worry about it. We’ll go back to Pantai (Medical Center) today and confirm that”, I said to her.
Roze started experiencing slight bleeding on Wednesday, a day after we met Dr. Idris, the gynecologist that was recommended to her by a Doctor friend. Well, he was a polite, soft-spoken middle-aged Doctor, a character that fits perfectly to image of a male gynecologist I always had in my mind. Perhaps, I was thinking of Dr. Onny, a gynecologist who handled Roze’s previous pregnancies.
“Slight discomfort that you are experiencing is normal, and don’t worry about the discharge. The baby is still intact. Each pregnancy is different. I had a patient who had discharge for the whole 9 months, and her baby was born normal”, Dr. Idris explained while performing an ultra-sound scan on her. I looked at Roze with a smile all over my face. Well, I proved that she was wrong.
“Just take the pills that I’m gonna give you and I’m sure we would be able to save the baby”, he added and we went home. I could see the relief on Roze’s face. The worry suddenly wiped off her face.

Saturday
Just like Friday, the same thing reoccurred. I went through a Déjà vu, more like a dramatization of the series of events that occurred on Friday and we took another trip to Dr. Idris’s clinic in the morning. Again, after an ultra-sound scan, he confirmed that the baby was still intact. He also recommended an increased dosage on Roze’s prescriptions. “If the pregnancy is okay, no matter what happens, even if you experience the pain and discharge, the baby is gonna be fine. But, if the baby is not strong, no matter what we do, no matter what medication we take, it will still be gone”, Dr. Idris explained further. It was a lesson about life and fate from the Doctor that caught my attention and instantly gained my concurrence. On our trip home, I reminded Roze about it. Yes, it’s all about fate. And, we could only do so much, but we couldn’t control fate.

Monday
The fate finally knocked on our door. Roze complained about the heavy bleeding she experienced at 7 p.m. last night (which she didn’t tell me earlier) and another one at 2 a.m. She believed that the baby was finally gone, judging from the bleeding and the pain she suffered. It was real blood. And, the pain was out of this world. To her, it was labor pain.
I was panicking and in a state of disbelief. I didn’t accept what she told me about the baby. Not that easily, at least. I needed proof. I needed to be told officially. But, seeing her suffering from the pain was the last thing I wanted to do. And, the only solution was to go back to Pantai. I drove her straight to the Pantai’s Emergency room because it was still early (Dr. Idris’s clinic only opens at 9:00 a.m.) and I wanted Roze’s pain and suffering to go away. We were met by a middle-aged ER employee at the entrance who quickly put Roze on a wheelchair and wheeled her in. I had to move my car from obstructing others to a designated parking space about 10 meters from the entrance. When I went in the room, she was already on bed and was attended by 2 nurses and a doctor.
After registering her at the reception counter, I went back to see Roze. She was calm but still combating with the pain. “Dr. Idris requested you to go and see him”, the nice Indian doctor told us. “No worries, we’ll send you there in a moment”, he continued while instructing his assistant to get the wheelchair and send Roze to Dr. Idris’s clinic, which was located on Block A.
We reached there in less than 5 minutes only to find out there were people waiting to see the doctor. I was expecting that she would be called in right away to see the doctor. I was in perfect control of myself until I realized that Roze was not gonna be given special treatment. To see her suffering from the pain and the waiting game they were playing drove me off the edge. I didn’t have other choice but to stand up and make myself heard. I walked into the counter where the assistants were sitting and called one of them.
“We came from the Emergency Room because the doctor wanted to see her. She is in pain and if I knew that we have to wait for our turn, I wouldn’t have come here. I would let her stay in ER or put her in the ward instead”, I stated my case loud and clear. I could feel the resistance from her from the look that she gave me but I didn’t really care. I was the Superhero that I was destined to be. She called the other patient in, perhaps in retaliation to my behavior. I gave her a stare to make my stand even stronger.
We were finally called in. At last, my fight was victorious. The doctor quickly performed the ultra-sound scan the moment Roze lied on bed. And, finally, the moment of truth was there. Finally, the words from the Doctor’s mouth matched those words that I had been hearing from Roze for the past few days but I chose to ignore them. “If you look here, this is the baby. It’s different from the last time we scanned it. I don’t think the baby is in healthy condition to continue. I think we’ve lost the baby.”, Dr. Idris confirmed what I refused to believe earlier. “Let’s do the D&C today, perhaps at 11:00 am.”, he continued. “Have you eaten anything this morning?”, he asked before went on to explain the detailed procedure that he was going to perform.
He instructed one of the assistant to send Roze to Admission to arrange for a room in which she could rest before the operation. I filled in a few forms and after less than 10 minutes, Roze was wheeled to Room C431, a single room she requested for. I agreed to her request because of the horrendous experience we had earlier with the room with multiple occupants.
Room C431. I looked at my watch and the time was 9:30 a.m. Well, we still had an hour and thirty minutes to go. Roze was resting quite comfortably despite the pains. I switched on the TV and flipped through the channels to check the programs that they had, knowing that I would have to spend a night in the room. “Is the discovery channel okay with you?”, I asked her, asking for approval. I knew she would prefer Travel & Living channel but it was not one of the programs available. She just nodded while continued to be in silence. I knew she was nervous about the operation and at the same time, frustrated and still mourning over the lost of our third baby.

Chazz-Room C431, Pantai Medical Centre

A letter to my wife

(From Personal Archives)
To my beloved wife,
I may have said it and I may have expressed it somehow, but until this very moment, I feel that I have done nothing. Even if there is, I know it is too small to match the love, happiness and greatness of life you have been giving me.
This letter is a celebration of my love and appreciation for you. And, I want you to know how grateful I am to share my life with you and to be blessed with your love.
My love,
From the day you came to my life and every moment after, when I am with you, you touch my heart and enrich my life with the softness and tenderness of a great woman.
You give me life and you give me every reason there is in the world to continue living and to continue stepping forward.
You walk with me all the way through, even if the path I choose may not be beds of roses. But, knowing that you are always there by my side, gives me strength and courage because I know I am not alone.
I know there is a torch with me to guide me through in my darkest nights. I saw it in you, my love. You are the torch that brightens my nights.
I was half a man that I really am before you came and completed me. I was not a believer when they told me that love is so many splendor things but seeing the way you filled my empty heart with your love brought me back the hope that I once lost and the trust that was once betrayed.
My love,
I have seen everything that is to see through your eyes in 12 years we are together. I learn and I grow in every moment you glow. What I see in you is a sheer beauty wrapped around a pure, loving, giving and caring heart, truly a bouquet of gifts and blessings from God. And just by looking at you, I know I am blessed. I know I am loved.
I see beneath the softness of your skins lies strength, beneath the tenderness of your kisses lies courage and beneath the gentleness of your touches lies the energy of confidence. Your smiles are blessings, your grins are sense of accomplishment and your tears are honesty. That’s you, my love. That’s how I see you.
You are everything I ever wanted. You are everything in one: a lover, a soul mate, a friend and more. I don’t even have to look further because you are here with me, now and forever. I feel at home when I am with you or even when I am away because I know your love is always there, for me.
I may have not said it, because words will never be enough to describe my feelings, my admiration and my love for you, but I want you to know that every time my heart beats is how much I am grateful, every kiss is how much I acknowledge you and every hug is how much I appreciate you.
My love,
I didn’t know how to love until the day you opened your heart and took the whole of me in. You gave me back the gift of love and for that, I am grateful.
I didn’t know that to love and be loved are the easiest things in the world until the day you came to my life. You taught me that love is beautiful and for that, I am grateful.
I didn’t know how to trust until the day I held your hands and I felt the whole world was on my side, and for that, I am grateful.
I didn’t even know the meaning of sacrifice until the day you sacrificed yourself to give me the greatest gifts of all, the two wonderful children that will continue our legacy and love, and for that, I am grateful.
I acknowledge all the love and trust you gave and all sacrifices you made through all these years and I’ll cherish them for the rest of my life. And most of all, I want you to know that I love you and I will always love you, and if I had a chance to do it all over again, I won’t change a thing. You are truly, the greatest thing that ever happen to me.

Luv,
Chazz

Ginza Walk

(From Personal Archives)
An evening walk from streets of Shimbashi, where the Bank’s branch was located, to Ginza was an experience of being inside of a complete-cycle of metamorphosis. It felt like I was sucked from a dull dimension to a totally different dimension, full of life and character, from a more quiet office complex to an elegant and stylish city where the retro-modern atmosphere still lingered in the air. Lined with old department stores with history and tradition and prestigious boutiques, Ginza was a flamboyant city even for sophisticated, fashion-conscious Japanese and even more so for people like me.
To me, Ginza was definitely the breath and brain of Tokyo and for the first time, I was showered with bright lights of the mega city that never sleeps. Ginza 4-chome intersection and its distinctive architecture, surrounding the intersection of Chuo-Dori Street and Harumi-Dori Street greeted me with its warm welcome, the perfect place to start my Ginza walk.
Walking in Ginza was like being in a never-ending fashion show and I felt like I was sitting in a VIP row, so close to the runway that showcased designer brands, from Prada to Burberry to Salvatore Ferragamo to Louis Vitton. Ginza was an eye-opener for me to the exciting and fascinating world of fashion and I meant it literally, especially when it came to the price tags that were enough to make my eyes go wide.
I strolled the streets of Ginza without clear intention to buy anything considering the price and exchange rate. Well, to tell the truth, I was hoping to find something that fits my wallet. Other than that, I was more drawn to get the feel of what Ginza has to offer for a foreigner like me and to get the understanding of the people, the culture and the colors of Tokyo.
What amazed me was how people of Tokyo treated me. I got the kind of respect I deserved, as their guest. And, the Japanese, they were down right polite. I could feel the warmness everywhere even though I didn’t understand the language. At times, I felt like they were saying something just to mock me because I was a non-Japanese speaking foreigner, but still, I could feel their honesty.
And, I also found out that even the back lanes of Ginza were not scary at all, a place I could walk safely without fear of getting mugged or pick pocketed. The feeling was amazing. I could feel safe even if I was in a foreign land, the feelings that I couldn’t get in New York or Chicago, or even Kuala Lumpur.
At 12:00 am, you could still find well-dressed, fully suited men holding briefcases and women in fashionable outfits, enjoying the drinks with friends after work. Laughter and conversation filled the atmosphere. Trains were packed especially after 12:00 am. Ginza line was only one of many train lines that transported commuters from suburban Tokyo and even outskirt areas. Perhaps limited parking spaces and high cost of parking fees made the traveling via trains a more cost effective alternative. And, if you look at the map and guide to train services in Tokyo, you can see extensive network of train lines that would make our train lines look more like a kindergarten’s school project.

Chazz - Ginza, Tokyo

All about Superman


(From Personal Archives)
I was chilling out on a Friday night with an old friend from high school over a few rounds of teh tariks when he popped up a very simple question. You know, one of those questions that sounds rather funny at first, but then, when you think about it, it goes deeper and deeper in your head and then, if you think hard enough, it continues to dwell in your sleeps and your wakes, for weeks, then when you finally get the answer, it is so simple that you think that it’s not worth spending the time to think about it at all. (To tell you the truth, whoever can say the sentence in one breath without taking the oxygen breaks, you should consider taking part in this year’s Malay Mail Big Walk!)
“If you were Superman, what would you do?” he asked.
A whole lot of things came into my mind. The evil side of me came into play. Hmm…if I have those superpowers, what would I do to benefit the good old me, myself and I?
Maybe I could go and rob Ted Turner or Bill Gates. But then, what do I need the money for? With the power that I have, I could just go and take anything I want. Who would stop me? Or rather, who could stop me?
Maybe I could dump people that I don’t like out of this planet, and the nearest would be Alaska, if today were my mother’s birthday? But, with the power that I have, they could not do anything to bother me. Who are these weak humans? I don’t want to dirty my hands on those good-for-nothing scumbags.
So, what do I want?
Beautiful women? What do I want Catherine Zeta-Jones and J.Lo for, when they’re just another cars in APAC’s Storeyard?
Luxury sports cars? Aren’t you forgetting something? I can fly for God’s sake. Evo8 is nothing when you can even smoke a B-2.
Expensive vacations? Again, I can fly. Anywhere. Who needs breakfast in Paris, lunch in South Africa and dinner in Moscow when you could have them in Mars, Venus and Jupiter? Let alone the Bank’s apartments in Cameron Highlands? Huh… I could even relocate them to Cameroon.
Education? What do I need Harvard’s MBA for? Do I want a PhD from MIT or Oxford? CIA? CCP? Nah!
Business? Why do I want to own a Fortune 500 Company? So that I can get more money? I don’t need money, you hear?
Major League Baseball team? EPL team? Nope, not when I am Superman.
More ESOS? No, but thanks anyway for the offer. But, I’ll frame the offer letter if that’s fine with you, Mr. Chairman.
When the evil devil’s advocate side of me finally surrendered, the good side came to my senses.
Ok, I want to dedicate my life to doing good deeds. Like saving people’s life, for example. First, I’ll save Tsunami victims in Acheh. But then, there are people in other places too. What about the victims in Kuala Muda, Langkawi, India, Bangladesh, Myanmar, Thailand and Ceylon?
What about the war victims like the Iraqis and others? Don’t tell me they are not worth saving?
And then, I have to stop poverty, hunger, human pains and sufferings, deadly diseases like Cancer and AIDS, and other disasters like earthquakes, draughts, floods, volcano eruptions, snow storms, accidents during festive seasons, Samy Vellu’s flyovers from falling off, corruptions, crimes, Malaysian soccer team from losing their home games, power-crazy world leaders, Governments’ cover-ups, Enron-like scandals, frauds, the Bank’s deteriorating asset quality, AFTA, PMS, another merger…. and my list is growing longer and longer.
Then, my realistic almost-selfish side came in.
What about my family? With all the tasks in my KPI, would I have the time to take my wife shopping or rather, window-shopping every weekends, spend ‘quality’ time with her waiting for her to finish her shopping or window-shopping and carry all those shopping bags, call my mother at least once a week, drive home to visit her 5-6 times a year, visit and pray at my dad’s grave, play basketball with my son, take him to his tuition twice a week, take my daughter to the playground every now and then, take her to her favourite sushi place every Saturdays, take them to the Club every shopping-free weekends, cook for them once in a blue moon, take them for vacations every school holidays, attend all their schools’ activities like Sports Day, Canteen Day, School Carnival, Report Card Day, Prize-giving Ceremony and those boring monthly PIBG Committee meetings, celebrate all their birthdays but mine, celebrate my wedding anniversary, listen to my brothers’ problems once in awhile and have I mentioned, take my wife shopping? (If you can say this one non-stop, you can even go for a marathon or even triathlon.)
And, would I have time to visits my friends and gossip about other friends, talk to my neighbours and gossip about the other neighbours, visit all the relatives during Raya and gossip about the other relatives and attend all the kenduris and gossip about everybody else?
Would I have the time to watch all those sporting activities on TV ~ EPL, NBA, MLB and World Series, NFL and Super Bowl, NCAA, summer and winter Olympics, Tennis Grand Slams, Michael Schumacher and not to forget my all-time favourite, women’s beach volleyball games?
And, what about the tarik sessions? Would I have the time to waste at the teh tarik joints at least once a week? And then, spend one week thinking about becoming Superman? Do I have the time to even think?
To take responsibility of all the things that are happening around you, to set the priorities when everything is too important to be left out, to choose one thing over another, to be in a few places at the same time, and to take care of the people close to you when you have the whole world to think about, it’s a tall order even for Superman. Even Spiderman knows that “with great power comes great responsibility.” And, with the amount of sacrifices that you have to make, who needs the super power? Not me, I don’t.
“I don’t want to be Superman,” I answered before adding on, “Even if I choose to be one, where do I change into my red-and-blue Superman suit when all the phone booths in KL, besides having out-of-order phones, don’t even have doors?” I got a big laugh as a present, and he paid for everything on our table including the two Teh Tariks and a can of 100 Plus I have emptied into my stomach.
Now, let’s change the question, if you were the Bank’s CEO, what would you do?

Chazz-Teh Tarik Joint, Tmn Melati

The Coach

(From Personal Archives)
People say that more business deals were closed on golf courses rather than in the meeting rooms. But, big ending sometimes came from a humble beginning. Little that we realize, some of the mega business plans were actually drawn up from ideas gathered at the teh tarik stalls.
Being a teh tarik addict, I can verify that the teh tarik stalls are not just the place to chill out and satisfy your urge for some fattening drinks. It actually opens up the window of opportunity to meet people and to observe and talk about life. I was on my quest to understanding life when I met a bubbly nice guy everybody called “Coach”. I didn’t even get his name but from a glance I knew that he was in his 50’s.
After a brief introduction, we were off to a familiar territory, an open-ended, no-holds-barred chat when he started off with a statement, “We will never be good in sports.” “And, why is that so?”, I asked with curiosity written all over my face. In my eyes he seemed like your average guy but when he mentioned about his job as a Coaching staff of BAM, I forced myself to devote all my attentions to what the Coach had to say. Being an authority in sports, he deserved the chance.
He took a deep breath before answering my question, “It’s hard for our sports to evolve. Year after year, with millions and millions of money spent, we are still the same as 20 years ago, if not worse. We may have all the facilities, no doubt, but we don’t have the platform for sports to grow, to improve and to soar beyond expectation. And to compete with others seems to be an almost-impossible task.”
“Our society is never a fair society, at least, not to sports. It’s not that we discourage sports totally and directly, but the perception built around it, gives our children a different message. In our society, success is measured on how many A’s you get in your exams. Not how many medals you have and definitely, not how many certificates you get from your participation in extra-curricular activities.”
He paused, sipped his teh tarik and continued, “We are telling them that the future only opens up its door to people that are successful in their studies. Of all the thin lines or gray areas that we have, this one stands out. We have a very clear line that divides studies and sports or other extra-curricular activities for that matter. Little that we realize, in the process, we ignore the fact that human beings are different and so are their talents and capabilities.”
“In school, for example, they need the students that are active in sports and extra-curricular activities. With the little things that they do, they actually help boost the school in the Education Ministry’s popularity chart similar for those who parade their A’s. In actual fact, extra curricular activities don’t really count. It’s like these people are being taken for a granted, a joy ride for everyone else but the poor children. At the end of the day, people ask you about your A’s. The teacher would always say that there would be the bright lights at the end of the tunnel on top of other 1001 empty promises. They are telling the kids that it’s good to work extra hard, doing extra things that nobody else wants to do, when at the end, in life after school, it doesn’t really matter. Sports and the extra things don’t pay.”
Emotions were running high but our teh tariks were running a bit low. So, we ordered another round of drinks. “I salute these kids. They definitely deserve better. It takes sacrifices and tremendous amount of efforts to take up sports and extra-curricular activities on top of their studies. They are working extra hard to elevate their potentials and translate them into achievements. They sacrifice their energy training days and nights, and on top of that, their sleeps, to be able for them to be the best they can be in two distinctive worlds.”
“Of course we let them to taste the glory. We put them on top of the world. We let them feel that they are important, that they are the cream of the crop and we brag about their achievement. Two seconds later, we are back to the ‘right’ perspective and they are left with 10 cent worth of glory and RM10-medals and RM15-trophies.”
He looked directly at my eyes as if he was looking for my approval and continued, “I don’t blame the parents if they would rather choose to send their children to tuitions and extra classes rather than to enroll them in soccer academy. I don’t blame them if they tell their children not to be involved in sports and extra-curricular activities. We don’t have the admiration for the people’s commitment and ability to balance between school and other things. Why bother to sacrifice yourself if at the end of the day, your efforts are not acknowledged and you will be judged on the same terms as other people?”
“In fact, if you see closely, chances are you will find the successful names in sports here, are there as a result of strong family supports and approvals. With that comes the encouragement and understanding and in most of the cases, financial assistance, from their parents. The message that we are sending out to the rest is simple: You have to be rich to have kids who excel in sports”
I nodded in agreement. The Coach was on his roll. “I understand why being active in sports and extra-curricular activities are not encouraged. While other parts of the world offers the future for these special and talented people, we don’t.”
“What do you mean, Coach?” I interrupted and to that he continued, “Others recognize them. In US, for example, education is still regarded as the most important thing, and so are sports and extra-curricular activities. After they finish their studies, they can continue to do what they do best, not as a mere hobby but as a profession. They can be successful and they are very well compensated doing what they like to do and are meant to do. Sometimes, they can be more successful in life compares to their friends who are caught in between those thick books all their lives. Not in Malaysia, we don’t.”, he added with despair.
“But, what can we do? Like you said, sports don’t pay”, I said it openly without even a spit of prejudice. To that he added, “Well, like I said, the society has to change its traditional views and values. Don’t blame the sportsmen if we failed to win anything. We have to ask ourselves: Do we give them a chance? Do we give the sports a chance to grow? Just think about it. For all you know, all the best God-given talents have lost their ways because of our wrong emphasis. We don’t know where to look for them, we don’t develop them and we don’t allow them to grow. In the end, for all you know, we are stuck with the second bests.”
The conversations were drawn to a close at last when the Warung owner finally gave the I-don’t-know-about-you-but-I-need-to-go-to-bed-soon-before-the-sun-is-up signal. OK, we saw his big yawns and we knew our game was over. He did all the talking and to compensate the “extra-curricular activities” he had performed so well, I put the Coach’s teh tariks on my tab.
I spend the rest of the night thinking about the extra-curricular activities. A question came to my mind, if all the Bank’s staff take up the “extra-curricular activities” i.e. tasks or activities that are beyond our KPIs and Job Descriptions, where would the Bank be? And, then again, do we give them what’s due to them if they do?

Chazz-Teh Tarik Joint, Tmn Melewar

Why am I here?

I have not been writing for quite a while now. Nonetheless, the passion is burning still in my blood veins.
I have always wanted to write. I have always wanted to publish a book. A book with my name on it. A book with special dedications and acknowledgement for people in my life. Ever since I was 11. Almost 30 years later, I am still without one.
Well, since the Nanorimo thingy in 2005 (1-30 November 2005), I have not done anything big. I did blurt out about 11,000 words for that word diarrhea challenge but then, that's about it. Maybe once or twice, I went thru the project in my laptop and ended up playing Championship Manager instead.
An innocent Sunday evening visit to AWC for MB107 graduation turned out to be an amazing wake-up call from G. There, surprisingly I met a guy from my MB97 small group that I staffed. I was almost fainted when I saw the word "Bounce", which is the working title of my book project on his LP T-Shirt. That was freaky! And, the message was very loud! A freaking big slap on my sorry face. It was almost a revelation from High Above.
I went to AWC again 2 days after to do ALI and I met Juara, one of the Seniors in my LP. The first question he asked, "How's your book coming along?" "Not too well, I guess but I am back on now" was my comment and I told Juara about the LP103 T-shirt. He laughed and asked me, "Do you know what all the big-time and famous writers have in common?" To that I said," Well, their creativity maybe?" He quipped,"No, not the big ideas, not the creativity...they all write every day. They make it their habits."
And, here I am...

Chazz