Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for the ‘Culture’ Category

ROAR!

ROAR POSTER

.

Come see the talented Tunas Tari children ROAR!-ing it away
for 2 days at Kuash Theatre, PKKKTB, Taman Tun Dr Ismail!
Tickets are still available at Ticket2u.com.my.
.
Grab them today!

.

And exciting giveaways by AIRWINGS
– the official merchandiser for ROAR! –
await you at the entrance.
.
Come grab them too!
.

Ehem!
Kitreena will be Argus, the Pheasant in the show.
.
Come give her some support!

.

.

Read Full Post »

Protected: Anita Nira’s Story

This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

Read Full Post »

Datin nak sindir-sindir dan dengan ghairahnya menghentam orang seperti saya yang kononnya mengagung-agungkan bahasa Inggeris dalam penulisan dan pertuturan seharian, Datin tahu kah saya ini sebenarnya fasih dan lancar dalam kedua-dua bahasa? Dalam Bahasa Melayu, saya yang berketurunan Cina dan India ini berpantun boleh, bersajak boleh, bersyair boleh. Malah bergurindam pun saya boleh. Cuba Datin minta secara rawak rakyat Malaysia untuk berpantun. Saya yakin, pembayang pantun daripada kebanyakan mereka adalah…

.

Pak Ali pergi ke kedai,
pergi ke kedai membeli…

Sentiasa saja Pak Ali kita ini hendak pergi ke kedai membeli something. Dan inilah realitinya kalau ada orang kita yang masih boleh berpantun. Lihat saja pantun-pantun di media cetak, atau dengar saja pantun-pantun meski di saluran radio Klasik Nasional sekalipun. Naik malu saya membaca dan mendengarnya.

.

Dan something seperti penggunaan Bahasa Inggeris saya ini yang Datin kecohkan sangat, kenapa? Atau barangkali Datin sebenarnya hanya hendak menutup kelemahan Datin berbahasa Inggeris?
.

Datin…
Bahasa Inggeris itu kerjaya saya. Perkongsian ilmu saya. Periuk nasi saya. Rezeki saya. Jiwa Malaysia saya tak usahlah Datin pertikaikan hanya kerana kefasihan, kebiasaan dan kerjaya saya. Daripada Datin mengecam orang-orang seperti saya, barangkali lebih bermanfaat jika pejuang bahasa dan budaya seperti Datin betulkan saja anak bangsa Datin yang semakin tidak pandai mengeja. Mereka ini lah yang kurang diajar dan kurang ajar.

.

Tapi kalau Datin nak saya ajarkan Bahasa Inggeris… pun boleh.

.

 Pantun ku ini....

.

.

Read Full Post »

Tau Kotahi

The kids and I got into an excitement of a conversation on the way to Pak Ngah Studio last night. It went from one topic to another; from immortality to vampires. Even my pronunciation of ‘draculas’ got corrected by both Kitreena and Edrick simultaneously in the heat of the conversation. Haha malunya!

.

We then moved on to the word in Māori that I learned today from my fellow trainer. The word is ‘tahi’, which means ‘one’ – yeah, the number.

.

To Tatou Wahine

.

Mommy: Did you know that in Māori, the word for number one is ‘tahi‘?

Kitreena: Haaaa? Hahahahahaha!

Mommy: Do you know what tahi means in Bahasa, Edrick?

Edrick: Nooo…

Kitreena: It’s poop lah Edrick! Hahahaha.

Edrick: Uhhh… I kinda thought of it. But what’s Māori?

Mommy: The Māori are the native people of New Zealand.

Edrick: Hmmm…

.

At this point, it just came naturally to me to do the Haka Dance for Edrick to associate Māori with Haka and the All Blacks, of course. And I did! I did the Haka Dance. Driving and all. Good thing we were at the traffic lights.

.

There I was… wearing my pinkish red baju batik with my usual white skirt doing the ugliest Haka Dance with the ugliest Haka warrior face ever while driving my two Canadian kids to their Malay Dance training session! I made up the words to sound like Māori and I exaggerated the dance… like real.

.

The kids looked at me with their expressionless face, not knowing whether to laugh or to cry.

.

Kitreena: Okay Mom, that’s good. I think Edrick knows what Haka Dance is now.

Mommy: Hehehe if there was a handsome man who wanted to marry me saw me doing that, I bet he’d change his mind.

Edrick: I officially agree with you, Mom. *pats Mommy’s left shoulder*

Mommy: Ouch! That officially hurts my feeling.

Edrick: I am sorry Mom.

Mommy: Naaahhh, no worries, Edrick.

Kitreena: But why handsome man, Mom?

Mommy: Well, I was just saying it. I don’t mind marrying a not-so-handsome man too, ya know. I don’t want to berebut with other ladies to get him.

Kitreena: So, are you saying you want the opposite now?

Edrick: Opposite of what? *tries really hard to follow the conversation*

Kitreena: Opposite of handsome, Edrick.

Mommy: Well, I don’t really care how he looks like as long as he is not grumpy.

Kitreena: What about bald?

Mommy: I don’t mind bald, I just mind grumpy. I was with a bald and grumpy one for 12 years. Tak nak dah!

Kitreena: Hahahaha!

Mommy: Why are we even talking about me marrying the opposite of a handsome man?

Haka FaceKitreena: You started it, Mommm!

Mommy: I did? Hehehe malunya!

Read Full Post »

It was just an innocent catching-up conversation between two relatives about their common kampung friends. A very innocent ‘did-you-know-that-so-and-so-is-married’ chat that turned out to be my wake-up call.

.

I now re-realize that I am back in this Malaysian society and very much belong to it. As much as I think I am ‘outside’… as I do think outside this proverbial box, I am deep in it. And so, although what I heard should not have bothered me, it surely has woken me up.

.

“Eh, si Mat tu dah kawin kan? Tapi tak ada jemput pun.”
“Sebab dia kawin dengan janda.”
“Laa… iye ke? Kenapa lah tak cari yang bujang.”
“Janda tu dengarnya tua daripada dia, anak dua ke tiga, entah.”
“Ishhh! Si Mat tu muda daripada kita. Baru start kerja.”
“Anak dara bersepah, nak jugak kawin dengan janda. Beranak pulak tu.”
“Cari lah yang sebaya. Kot nak janda pun, biar lah yang tak ada anak.”
“Ah kalau janda tu tak melayan, tak jadi jugak.”

.

I woke up right there and then, determined to find my people’s cultural definition of jodoh and bodoh.

.

.

Read Full Post »

Saya terbaca serangkap pantun Hari Raya hari ini di dinding Facebook seorang sahabat. Tidak lah saya tahu sama ada ia asli dan dikarang oleh teman kepada sahabat saya itu, atau sekadar disalin-dan-lekat sahaja. Sekali baca, saya tersenyum. Agak lucu pembayang pantun empat kerat, tujuh-lapan sukukata itu.

.

Lembu cuit buaya,
buaya baling tin;
Selamat hari raya,
maaf zahir batin.

.

Kali kedua membacanya terasa ia agak menjengkelkan. Sebagai seorang pendidik bahasa, walaupun Bahasa Inggeris, saya sanjung tinggi keindahan bahasa Melayu. Dan sejujurnya saya rasakan bahawa pantun ini pantun malas. Malas mencari pembayang yang indah-indah. Atau mungkin juga penulisnya cuba untuk menghiburkan pembaca dengan pembayang yang dirasakan lucu.

.

Lalu keluar lah sembang antara saya dengan sahabat saya, mempermainkan pantun ini.

Enida: Lembu tu berani ke cuit buaya, babe?

Kawan: Hehehe…

Enida: Buaya yang boleh baling tin tu buaya apa?

Kawan: Buaya darat.

Enida: Ishhh ye ke?

Kawan: Buaya jadian kot.

Enida: Eh, ni mesti buaya tembaga ni. Tin tu pun tin tembaga sepatutnya.

Kawan: Hahaha!

Enida: Lembu tu kalau dia cuit buaya, sure tak sempat jadi rendang raya ni, kan?

.

Pantun ku ini...

Sahabat saya terus diam selepas itu. Mungkin jengkel juga dengan saya yang mempermainkan pantun teman beliau. Namun saya akui, bagus juga lah pantun ini berbanding pantun ‘Pak Ali Pergi Ke Kedai‘.

.

.

 

Read Full Post »

Babi Ini Dalam Sejarah

“Enida, kenapa you list down blog yang ada babi and non-halal food dalam blogroll you?”

“I tak kisah. Bukan I yang makan. Not all entries are about babi pun.”

“You tak geli ke?”

“You rasa kawan-kawan Hindu kita geli tak tengok beef rendang and daging lembu masak kicap kat blog you?”

“Tu lain.”

“Both pork and beef are meat. Dua-dua ada history why they’re forbidden. Apa yang lainnya?”

“Babi is haram for us.”

“Tengok aja pun haram?”

“Ahhh you ni! Ada je jawapnya. Entahkan you makan tak?”

“Excuse me! Syak wasangka you tu pun sama haram dengan hukum makan babi tau.”

“Oh sorry, sorry!”

“You should feel sorry for yourself. At least I tau macam mana rupa babi lepas dimasak. You?”

“Yeah, you got a point there, Enida.”

“You are not what you eat, you know that?”

“Then?”

“You are what you think you eat.”

.

..

.

Read Full Post »

Kalau Padi…

I cook. But almost every time I say that I do cook, I get a funny look. A doubtful look. And it always comes down to my look. I don’t have the look of someone who cooks, or someone who even knows how to cook. So they say.

.

And almost every time I get that funny, doubtful look from those who do not believe that I do cook or I do know how to cook… I feel the urge to prove that I don’t only cook, but I am a hardcore kampung cook. (People think I’m a city mouse.)

.

I eat stinky things: petai, rebung, tempoyak, jeruk maman, you name it. I eat rotten preserved food as well: ikan pekasam, telur asin, kulat sisir, any moldy but edible food… I am bound to give it a try, and more often than not, will like it.

.

What surprised me today, though, was not what I can eat or cook. It was my retained ability to use the kampung kitchen tool that I haven’t used for more than 30 years. I even have one at home — that I packed to Australia, Oman, Italy, Canada, Russia and back to Malaysia — for wall decor.

.

.

.

There I was, at one corner of the anjung dapur, menampi beras pulut hitam destined to be bubur for our minum petang. And my mind was already busy thinking of the other traditional kitchen tool I have not used since I fled that fateful fire of Padang Masirat.

.

I am on a quest for a good set of batu giling now.

.

.

Read Full Post »

As soon as I got to the counter at Istana Budaya to pick up my LAT The Musical tickets this morning, I was not greeted by the lady behind the counter. She did not even look at me when I said my Selamat Pagi. I waited for her to say her Selamat Pagi back, but I would probably have had to wait until I heard a rooster crowing cock-a-doodle-doo the morning of April the first, or I might have to wait a year there – at the counter. So I decided not to bother.

.

I asked her if my reservation was still kept since it was a day overdue. And when I showed her the reference number, she just glanced over it. No expression on her face. She still had not turned her face to look at mine. After about 20 seconds of silence and her tapping on her keyboard, she asked for the reference number again. L2C7WN it was. She could only recall the first three (L2C).

.

“El dua si… apa tadi?”

So I gave her the full reference number, “El two see, seven double you enn.”

She repeated after me, “El dua si, tujuh… apa?”

I was just about to frown, but I didn’t. “Seven double you enn.”

She looked like she was ready to glance over my face, “Tujuh dabaliu en?”

“Ha’ah, tujuh double you enn. El dua see, tujuh double you en. Ada?”

“Enida Johnson ke?” Only then did she look at me and the bindi on my forehead and my cobalt blue punjabi suit..

“Ya, saya.”

“Enam ratus sembilan puluh sembilan ringgit. Nak bayar cash ke?”

“Ya, ya. Saya bayar tunai.”

.

I said my “Thank You” twice. Once when I handed her the seven hundred ringgits, and once more when she handed over the one ringgit change. But today I just learned that at Istana Budaya there is no such thing as “Sama-Sama” or “You’re Welcome”. And oh, smiling is not allowed there too, if you work there.

.

 

.

Read Full Post »

Sweetngapore

To Fitrizah, the immigration officer at the Port of Tanjung Pelepas, thank you for making it easy for us to exit Malaysia even though Bibik’s departure card was nowhere to be found. And ehem, hehe! I saw you main mata with my son in the back seat.

.

To Mr. Tan Chye Chye, thank you for sharing the Tony Blair-and-his-scandalous-girlfriend story. Your taxi was probably the warmest one I have ridden in a long long time. And I am not talking about the air-conditioner. And yes, the hotel on Victoria Street right across from the Bras Basah Complex is formerly known as Allson Hotel. I love taxicab drivers who know their history.

.

To Siva, the concierge at the Grand Pacific Hotel, who walked along my CRaVy through to the basement parking just to make sure I wouldn’t have to carry my own luggage… what can I say. I don’t only love your budi-bahasa. I love your bahasa as well.

.

This Temasek Trip is too short!

.

.


Read Full Post »

Older Posts »

%d bloggers like this: