All Dressed Up (or Undressed) And Nowhere To Go

There has been quite a lot of news lately about dress-codes.
Firstly there was the case of a Sudanese employee of the UN's peacekeeping mission, Lubna Hussein, who was given a dressing down, to put it mildly, for wearing trousers.


The Islamic Government of Sudan said that she had to face public flogging for "offences against public taste". It seemed that she turned down the offer of pardon by the Sudanese President and intended to fight the law. Hurrah for Lubna Hussein!!
Anyway the Western Press had a field day using this news to clout Islam. In this case the Muslims in Sudan, especially, asked for it.

Secondly, Alton Towers, a major tourist attraction in England has banned (10 August) Speedo tight, skimpy swimming trunks at their waterpark. It was said that "while women may hail the return of the skimpy bathers" (why women only, one may ask?) it was not appropriate for the family-friendly nature of the theme park.
Kudos to Alton Towers! Will Speedo and the masculinists sue Alton Towers? What if Alton Towers was located in say, Malaysia? The human rights hounds will be upon this country like a ton of bricks!

Now hold your breath for this third example.
Going topless on beaches is so passe, my dear! Such feminist chic started in St Tropez in 1964 but now it is quite unfashionable. The reasons given are (1)Aids, which put a spanner in the sexual revolution, (2)fear of skin cancer because of ozone depletion and (c) the feminists are refusing "to give in to the endless
pressure" to parade their 'perfect' body.
There is actually, no ban on toplessness on French beaches except - this summer - the beach at Paris-Plage. Again the feminists are quite riled up because the Islamic veil is allowed!!
We just can't escape criticism, can we?

Just a plea. Can we ALL be a little bit more understanding and tolerant, a little less self-righteous and hypocritical and let a wee bit of "love fly like a bird on the wing"?



I came to know and love this song via my beloved brother,Akim - who left us 27 years ago, in September.

The Three Wise Monkeys and An Old Soldier

Of the three wise monkeys one speaks no evil,one sees no evil,one hears no evil. When we were young it was easy to differentiate good from evil and right from wrong. Although this dichotomy becomes more complicated with time, politics and politicians have a habit of oversimplifying the situation. What suits us is good, what suits others is evil. The goods we sell are perfect, other people's products are defective.
Patrick Mercer MP (Conservative) is an odd monkey. Although we all would say we speak no evil, see no evil, hear no evil Patrick Mercer's political stand and articulations in the media smack of mendacious propaganda at its worst and plain western humbug at its best. Mercer was a career soldier, an ex-Colonel and came to Parliament via BBC Radio 4's Today Programme, and as freelance journalist for the Daily Telegraph. Between 2003-2007, he was Shadow Minister for Homeland Security but lost the post because of racist statements made about ethnic minority soldiers. Today he heads the House of Commons counter-terrorism sub-committee.
Mercer Speaks no Evil
Patrick Mercer is often quoted as the voice warning Great Britain about the perils of terrorism, i.e. Islamic terrorism, in his country. On 1 August 2009 he expressed concerns about MI5 recruiting al Qaida sympathisers. Before that on 22 Feb 2009 he spoke of " a terrorist attack to rival the 7/7 outrages as almost inevitable in the near future."
"Their sole aim is to carry out out another 9/11 or something similar to the foiled plot in 2008 to make a mass suicide attack against airliners with home-made liquid bombs."
According to People.co.uk "MI5 is monitoring more than 2000 suspected terrorists... Young British Muslims are being radicalised at a higher rate than ever. ...killers have the means to unleash a chemical, biological or even nuclear strike. Mr Mercer said security officials believe terrorists could launch an attack at a major televised sports event to cause maximum international impact."


Despite his statement in March 2007 about how he had met a 'lot of idle and useless ethnic minority soldiers who used racism as a cover", his career has not suffered at all. According to Mercer, being called a 'black bastard' in the army is no different from being called a 'ginger bastard' or a 'fat bastard'. However I would challenge Mr Mercer if the army dares use 'Jewish bastard'

Mercer Sees no Evil
What is Mercer's take on his country's culpability for torture and other alleged war crimes? According to the Guardian of 22 August "MI5 participated in the unlawful interrogation of a British resident now held in Guantanamo Bay, the high court found yesterday in a judgement raising serious questions about the conduct of Britain's security and intelligence agencies." This is certainly a case of turning a blind eye, of putting on blinders and saying 'I see no evil.'

Mercer Hears no Evil


The sound of the indifference of the British print and electronic media and of course Mr Mercer is quite deafening.

This song is specially for the hearing of Mr Mercer and his ilk. Stay sweet for (1) the agenda of the arms industry and the security companies, (2) for the warmongers and the islamophobes and (3)Britain needs a distraction and diversion from the country's economic, political and social woes.

Before mass leaders seize the power to fit reality to their lies, their propaganda is marked by its extreme contempt for facts as such, for in their opinion fact depends entirely on the power of the man who can fabricate it. Hannah Arendt
P.S. In the 2007 House of Commons Register of Members' Interests, Mr Mercer is not only affiliated with the BBC but also with several Security Companies like Blue Hackle, Saladin Security and the Hart Group. Such companies provide security and protection to the West and their Allies in the world's troubled hotspots like Iraq and Afghanistan.

WILD NIGHT

Tsk! tsk! tsk! chided my niece Maria when I told her we did not get home until 1.30 in the morning after Putri Kama's big do on Monday 3rd August.
Oh what a night! As two OAPs (Old Age Pensioners) we felt very privileged to be part of this young crowd of bloggers - all Wild Thing(s) like in the song by the Troggs. We hoped we behaved ourselves and set them all a good example of what they can be like when they get to our age - although I somehow think they would be more badly behaved.
Thank you all for a supercalifragilisticaspialidocious evening. I wished I had done a walkabout to talk to all those who I only know by their blog names. Just as some have admitted to thinking that AsH is a man - I must confess that I didn't think Sakmongol would look like my former formidable mathematics teacher. I was terrified of him! Sorry Ariff.
Thank you Mak Andeh for making sure these two shameless night-birds got home safely and we hope to see you one Sunday for tosay at Shah Jahan.
I really would have loved you lot as my students other than that incorrigible Din. I would have appointed Putri Kama as the Head Prefect (whip supplied). Kak Teh shall be the Pretty Nerd Perfect (oops, Deputy Head Prefect) armed with a pair of can-huffs (oh dear, I mean hand-cuffs). As for Fatimah, she shall be the Chairperson of the LDDS although I would have a tough time catching her or catching up with her. Pok Ku, Uncle Som, AG, the spouse and I - we can be found in the Teachers' Common Room eating bread spread with genuine Milkmaid/Lifeguard condensed milk sprinkled with Ovaltine. As for the rest they will have to be Prefects too because as I observed from the Poco Poco, there was no particular leader to be found - it was just a beautiful mess.
Once again, thank you all, especially to Putri and better half for an unforgettable evening - from two knackered but happy ole fogies.

Finally, oh Pendekar Putri Sayang:
Langkah serentak alah sajak, sama bergerak,
Sikap gaya, alah sayang pendekar putri.
Bertepuk tangan amboi tangan tanda berani,
Tiada gentar alah sayang hai membela diri.

Hail to Thee, Blithe Spirit

But this I know for certain that you'll come back again, that you'll come back again.And even as I promised, you'll find me waiting then,you'll find me waiting then.

Jack Marlowe is the epitome of a fine English gentleman. But more than this, he is devilishly witty, erudite and a loving warm-hearted friend.
You can't pin him down. At times he's urbane and learned. Sometimes he's cheeky and full of tricks. Most of the time he has that rogueish twinkle in his eyes!

Jack is a prolific and creative embroiderer and there have been several exhibitions of his work in Italy. Above is a picture of "the Fireworks", the embroidery, not the man with his back to you.
And here is the garden that Jack 'built'.

For he is also a landscape gardener who can reel off the botanical names of all his plants and leaves you stunned. But he has his mad moments as can be seen from his garden hat.

Like us, Jack loves cats. He used to have eight of them and now only Mab is left. He's seen below with Claude The Adored who sadly died a few months ago.


Jack Marlowe does not adopt sweet cuddly kittens, which most people prefer. For he will take into his home and his heart the abandoned, unwanted and older cats that nobody wants. Jack is special that way.
Before we knew Jack, we always thought that opera was just music sung by screeching fat ladies for the snobs and the elites. He took us under his wings and taught us to listen to the human voice in opera - the voice as a musical instrument - to appreciate its timbre, tone, pitch and articulation. Jack, do you remember listening to this on those winter evenings (and the umpteen mugs of tea) at No. 10, Oxford Avenue?


We know you're not feeling too well right now - perhaps in need of manure? This posting is just to let you know how much we love you - The Adored. I cannot say enough to thank you for what you have been to us - Our Irrepressible Optimist and dear friend.
P.S. All these photographs come by courtesy of Lely, your little tropical flower from Singapore.


And here's one for the road. And as you always say when we take leave: ANON.

Name Calling (CsH)

Abdul Hamid and Kamisah named their children Maznah, Maznoor, Mustapha and Mustakim. We were quite amused being the 4 Ms and our teachers in Pasir Panjang English School knew of our connection because of the first letter of our names. We thought it was quite fun for us to have the same type of signature i.e. m. hamid.

My sister's name was very straightforwardly Malay, easy to pronounce and remember. So was Mustakim although it was not such a common name. But it had a beautiful meaning - "The Straight Path " taken from the Fatiha. As for Mustapha it was a happy name for my brother until that song 'Ya Mustapha" became a big hit in the early 60s. Until today I don't know how he coped having his name associated with exotic images of Middle Eastern belly dancing belles. That song was sung in about 3 or more languages but the running lines were :
Cherie je t'aime, cheri je t'adore
Como la salsa del pomodoro
which means
Darling, I love you darling,
I adore you - like tomato sauce.


As for my name, it was a sad woeful story. It's a difficult name to remember and I suffered a lot of teasing because of it. I was called 'must-snore' or 'must-gnaw'. When I was the Editor of the school magazine at Yusof Ishak Secondary School, the co-editor was Mr Koh Sei Hian. Our colleagues had a lot of fun repeating this line - 'You must know (Maznoor) Koh says when (Sei Hian). GRRRRRR!
When I was in Primary Five, my class teacher Mr. Chia Wai Chee discovered from my birth certificate that my name was actually spelt 'Maznoor' and not 'Maznor'. Now that I like, because 'noor' (with a 'u'sound) seemed more feminine than the guttural 'nor' and as 'noor' means light I felt I could shine a little. But it was to no avail. I remained 'No' for ever and ever.
My most difficult time was when I had a student, a male student called Masnor. I recalled how Abah had a friend also called Hamid and they used to refer to each other as 'Che Nama'. Now I can't do the same with my student, can I? So whenever I have to call him I have to grit my teeth and sometimes the two of us can't help but smile. I wondered how he must have suffered too because he has a girl's name! And I thought I had a problem.

In Leicester, in any written communication with the Muslim community they would spell my name as Mansor, Manzour, Manzoor. Oh what the heck!!!
Then I started on a new adventure in 2000 - of picking up jobs in the factories as an Agency Worker. That experience warranted a whole new chapter and I must say it was one of the most enjoyable and challenging time of my life in Leicester. So I reported for work at Cobalt - a sort of postal centre for all kinds of institutions.
I went to see Claire the Supervisor and I gave her my name. It was a Monday morning and already she looked frazzled and knackered. She looked puzzled - then sighed and said "I'll call you Maizie" and then showed me my work table. And so, at last I had a name that anyone and everyone can remember!! I became 'Maizie' for evermore and where ever I worked in my new career as a factory worker in Leicester. You can't imagine my relief when I gave my name to a stranger and he/she could remember and get it right. Oh what joy!

Abah, I do wish you had given me a more manageable name like Aminah or Fatimah, although I would have preferred Maimunah. I can imagine a scenario where someone I adored from afar would call me "My Munah" especially during those difficult teenage years!!


For the benefit of a commentator from June 27 who "...just wish you were slightly happier", please do not misconstrue this posting. I tend to have an ironic, wry sense of humour. I still love my Abah to bits and I can live for many more good years with this unique name he gave me.

For Capt. Yusof - Alfatihah

Sailing takes me away

To where I've always heard it could be

Just a dream and the wind to carry me

And soon I will be free.

I met the Ancient Mariner just once - about 1 1/2 years ago at the Press Club. In that smoke filled room I remembered a man with a gentle face and a twinkle in his eyes - just sitting and listening and smiling.
I go into his blog very frequently. He writes like he looks - serious, precise in his words and phrases; at times angry but non-judgemental. He was a concerned and thinking blogger. To me he belongs to that rare breed - the Malay Gentleman.

He was just a year younger than me. At my age we begin to notice our peers departing this blessed earth. This is my third farewell tribute since we got back. May Allah bless him on his journey and to grant his wife and family the strength to carry on.


Most nights before we switch off the lights, Iain would say to me, "See you tomorrow, love." There was one night when I just cried and asked, "What if I don't see you tomorrow?"

We must always keep this question in mind in our relationships with our parents, our spouses and children and sibling and friends.

Farewell Capt. Yusof.

Glad did I live and gladly die,

And I laid me down with a will.

This be the verse you grave for me:

'Here he lies where he longed to be;

Home is the sailor, home from sea,

And the hunter home from the hill.'

Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894)

See you tomorrow. God be willing.

Grumpy old Woman (GOW)

Today, for the first time since we got back, I took the LRT to get to Ampang Park. As I was about to sit down on this empty seat in the train, this middle aged Malay man dressed for his Friday prayers gave me a stupid grin, barged in and took my seat!!!! I couldn't believe my eyes. The young Chinese lass next to him stood up to give me her seat but I thanked her and said "I don't want to sit next to him!"

I was fuming and I knew he dared to do this because firstly I'm a woman and secondly he thought I wasn't a Malay. That is a despicable attitude on both counts. I must say I was so incensed that I missed my stop. So I got out at KLCC to go back to Ampang Park. This time when I got into the train I didn't bother to look for a seat and just stood next to the holding bar.

Then I heard a voice from behind me saying "Macik, would you like a seat?"

It was a young Malay man, dressed for his Friday prayers. I was gloriously, happily surprised but I declined and thanked him saying I was getting down at the next stop.
Just before I got out at Ampang Park, I stepped back to thank him again and we exchanged nice smiles.

When I got home I described my experience on the LRT to the spouse and I suggested to him that God must be fed up with me grumbling on the blog about these instances of Malay rudeness - so God decided to shut me up and declare, "Okay then, this middle-aged Malay gave you a hard time, so here's this courteous young Malay to make up for it. Now stop being a GOW."

Okey dokey. But I still want to write this episode in my blog.