It's Christmas

This is Nine's first entry for the coming festive season. I'm surprised at the age of 6, Nine could write effortlessly. Here's what Nine has written:

http://papan9.blogspot.com/2009/12/its-christmas.html

Thank you, all

Saturday 21st November, has been marked on our calendar as the most historical date of the year. This is the day when two of Papa's artwork together with his fellow artist friends is exhibited to the public of our local township. It also marked Papa's first participation in art event held outside of Malaysia. To some, the event and number of artwork featured may be small in size, but it meant a lot to Papa, me, Azhan and Nine as this is Papa's first baby step towards embarking the world of art.
I'm touched by the support shown by our Malaysian acquaintances here. The fact that they were willing to spend some of their valueable weekend hours with us at the gallery is highly appreciated. I feel indebted to their support. May God bless you all, always

I'm giving up

In the last month I have been actively hunting for work back home. The sudden urgency of wanting to secure a job back home is mainly due to my Mom's health. Ever since my sister told me about Mom's current condition, I feel desperately in need of returning home to tend to my loving mother. Guilt and terrified kept haunting me lately as the word of death is uttered more frequently by my mom. And each time she raises this, I'd hush her and convince her that she'll soon be fine as long as she sticks to the doctor's advice.

This kind of situation sometimes makes me regret of forcing my darling hubby into moving to England. Back then, I thought England would promise a brighter future for us. Wonderful memories of others who'd previously lived in England blinded me into thinking that this island is the best place for us to be. What a dream!

The online job hunting site tells me that all my job applications have been turned down and my CV is apparently being kept for future reference. And I don't how soon that future is. It's quite frustrating that all the efforts put into polishing and updating the CV didn't bear any fruit of success. This frustration is leading me back to my dormant status. To add insult to injury, current working situation gets worse as my colleague starts to dump her work load onto my lap. I empathise her being underpaid and overworked but she should understand that we are in the same boat. My status is no better than hers.

These negative vibes at work and emotional turbulences sometimes really exhaust my inner self. They wear me out that I feel may be I should just give up, leave everything be and let God's fate decides what's best for me.

People matter

I haven't been sewing lately but I'm not slacking either. For the past few weeks, my head have been buried in swamps of books just like my old days back in varsity. There are three main areas that I'm reading on; management, fashion styling, and career development. One book that really strikes my interest is a book called, "Everything I need to know about being a manager, I learned from my kids". As a management graduate blessed with two children, I could easily relate to every story featuring his three young sons. But the most appalling of all I've learnt that every single management don'ts told in this book is by and large put to practice at the organisation I'm working for. Sitting at the bottom level of a hierarchy, has given me the opportunity to observe every single mistake made by the company's top gun.
Watching some of the most educated and experienced people in the business make mistake amazes me sometimes. I guess all those years they'd spent in their own room with a panel window, have somehow made them forgot about the importance of every little person who in the least way have contributed towards the success of the organisation. I'm sure sometimes in their varsity years, they'd been taught that managing a business is really about managing people, and within any organisation the people matter most. Sure, maintaining company's profitability is the utmost importance of all but like it or not every manager must realise that the people are the ones who helped move the company one step towards its ultimate target.

I don't despise the management for treating us as if we're all dispensable but I'm sad that an organisation that boasts on being the nation's pride, is in minimal communication with its people. These silly unnoticeable mistakes mounted up to my patience wearing thinner with every working day that passes by. This unconventional finding however reminded me of the importance of people that were frequently highlighted by my post grad lecturers. I just hope someday I would finally land a managerial post and would be one who looks and treats everyone like VIP regardless of their background.

Why do you want a career as a Retail Manager in the fashion industry

If you were asked the above question at an interview, how would you answer it? I'm in the midst of attempting to draft my answer for the above question. To be honest, I'm having great difficulty in expressing my thoughts on the above. It's not easy claiming to be passionate about something but could hardly describe it in words. Should I begin with how I reacted towards clothes and fashion since I was little and how obsessive I've become ever since? Or should I address the question technically? Leaving job hunting dormant for a couple of years made me realise how formalistic and boring I sound in writing official matters. How do you inject a little taste of your personality into something formal?

Gramp, I love you!

This festive season suddenly reminds me of my poor Gramp back home. Since the passing of my beloved Naan 10 years ago he hasn't remarried and has been living with my uncle. We went up north to visit him during our April holiday back home. I was rather taken aback to see how old he looks. It made me sad seeing his droopy eyes, a sign of loneliness I guess. Through out my adolesence, Gramp is the only grandad I've ever known. You see, my paternal grandad passed away when I was only 2, leaving me with my mom's dad to pass on his wisdom. I was never his favourite grandchild but somehow I grew close to him. I guess my being my late Naan's favourite helped me become close to him. Wherever Naan went, I'd sure tag along and where Naan was, Gramp was always by her side. When Naan died, Gramp was devastated especially learning that she took her last breath in my aunt's arm and not his. The first few years after Naan's passing, Gramp was always in tears everytime he visited her grave.

It's saddening to watch Gramp lives his golden ages without his soulmate. It's more dreadful to learn that he's yearning for the day he'd join his beloved wife. I remember my Mak Long telling me how Gramp requested for Mak Long's husband whom I called Ayah to manage Gramp's funeral. Who'd ever thought that my Ayah would be knocked down by a car, fell into coma for a couple of months and left us without any last word. A couple of years before Ayah's fatal accident, one of Gramp's sons, my Pak Jang passed away after a severe asthma attack. It must have been hard for any father to see his very own son being buried. These sudden deaths in the family must have taken its toll on Gramp.

Lately, I've been thinking of writing to Gramp. I want him to know what he means to me and how grateful I am to be blessed with a grandad like him. I want to thank him for helping me went through my adolescene and telling me his wise words about life. I really want him to learn this before he finally joins my late Naan. Not that I'm wishing for him to die, but at least he'd know that his existence has always meant something to us, his predecessors.

We shared some fond memories, me and Gramp. I could vividly recall those years when I was little, how he had to take me with him and Naan when they went to their farm or even grocery shop. I remember riding his green Vespa and how I'd usually be standing in front of him and holding onto the handle. It was great fun riding with him and Naan. If I could remember correctly there was one time when Gramp took Naan and me to Jitra (about half hour ride from their home). It was raining quite heavily on our way home, Gramp's hands were shaking as we were all drenched from the rain. Soon after, Gramp complaint to Naan that his arms and hands had cramps. Naan then quickly put her hands onto his and gently rub her hands to warm him up hence soothed the pain. Seeing Naan did this, I followed through. As soon as we got home, Naan put Gramp to sleep after having him bathed and taken his medication. That was how affectionate their love was.

I may never fully understand Gramp's loneliness but I bet it must have been hard for one to lose the other half and live one's life alone. True enough that his children and grandchildren could look after him and attend to his needs but I don't think their love would be as affectionate as his other half.

Mood raye

As mentioned in my previous post, tahun ni merupakan tahun ke3 berturut-turut kami berpuasa and beraya dekat negara orang. Honestly, memang tak seronok langsung la sambut raya kat sini maklumla udah le jauh dari mak abah dan keluarga, suasana raya pon tak ade. Even though I'm not as excited as I used to be when I was a kid, rasa ralat la jugak sebab anak-anak tak dapat rasa kemeriahan beraya kat kampung with our big extended family. Sebelum kami berhijrah ke sini, memang la bebudak ni pernah dibawak beraya kat kampung tapi mase tu dorg kecik-kecik lagi. Bukannya faham pon raya tu ape. But as they grow bigger, I'd really much want them to understand the special meaning of Ramadhan and Eid celebration to many of us back home. Especially now that Azhan has started fasting more consistently, I want him to learn the joy that other children back home feel during Iftar and soon to be Eid.

There's a bright sight to this mischief though; I don't have to worry about my children risking their fingers or hand whilst lighting up 'mercun' or 'meriam buluh buatan sendiri'. I don't normally follow the accident caused by 'mercun' statistics for the past two years but I assume with 'mercun' banned from being sold at pasar malam the statistics would have dropped now. Cumenye, when I come to think of it, bebudak ni tak dapat merasa keseronokan helping my uncles lighting up the pelita and bermain bunga api. Kalaulah boleh balik ke zaman kanak-kanak, nak aje aku pergi ke malam sebelum raya kat rumah lama arwah Tok dan Wan. Lepas pasang pelita, pakcik akan bagi kami bunga api. Mercun pulak aku dan sepupu-sepapat cume boleh bakar under pakcik's supervision. Cakap pasal kampong, teringat arwah Tok. Duit raya aku selalu dapat lebih dari cucu lain; cucu kesayangan la katakan. Rasa rindu nak peluk dan cium Tok macam dulu, nak makan ketupat palas pulut hitam Tok, gulai daging special dia, tapi Tuhan lebih sayangkan Tok (al-fatihah untuk Tok yang sudah 10 tahun meninggalkan Wan, anak-anak dan cucu-cucunya).

Another thing that I like about celebrating Eid abroad is not having to buy new 'baju raya' for either my kids, my hubby or myself. I could vividly recall back then when I used to make such a big fuss over not having new 'baju raya'. Sebetulnya baju raya tu bukannya penting sangat pon, boleh dibilang dengan jari berapa kali jer aku pakai kebaya sulam tu. In fact to this very day, baju tu masih nampak baru. Here's something that I as a woman don't quite understand, why is it so important for some to have more than 1 baju raye? My aunt is a dress-maker and she used to tell me that Ramadhan is her busiest time of the year due to the huge volume of baju kurungs she has to make. I remember suggesting her to turn away some of her customers tapi kata dia orang yang menempahnya tak ramai tapi setiap seorang tu tempah lebih dari sepasang. Bila difikir-fikirkan balik logik la dorang tempah banyak sebab kebanyakan depa prefer (ada yang terpaksa) pakai baju kurung ke tempat kerja.

Unlike last year, semangat raya kali ni kurang sikit due to the current economic weather. Bilangan kenalan kat sini pon dah berkurangan sejak ramai terpaksa balik for good. Truth to tell, I'm more worried about my career prospect than anything. Raya this year to me is just another bank holiday marked on the calendar.