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Protected: Anita Nira’s Story

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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…

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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.

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

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

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 Pantun ku ini....

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Sudahlah

Enida MarahThe not-so-nice thing about being a cheerful person like me is that, I am expected to not ever be the opposite of cheerful. It is not acceptable to see me in a sad state. And I am definitely banned from entering any sorry state. God forbids if I ever reach out and ask for help. Goodness, that is so not me. So unbecoming.

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It is like being told to wear short white skirt to do a horseback riding for the first time and being expected to not lose balance, fall, get dirty or be embarrassed. Okay, I know the analogy is not quite realistic. But so is the expectation.

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K-bye!

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Berbaik Sangka

Kerana kita ini manusia. Dan kerana manusia mudah cenderung kepada yang negative, berbaik sangka itu menjadi sesuatu yang perlu kita ajar diri.

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That is how I started this entry. I fell asleep for 38 minutes after writing it, though. Apparently it was a tough battle trying not to sound like I am preaching. My intention was just to tell a story of ‘berbaik sangka’. But I suppose, as human as I am, being positive is a conscious and constant decision.

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Anyway, the story is pretty simple. A friend mentioned on Twitter about this FourSquare application that I myself just got the hang of. Well, just for the fun of checking in at places, ya know. The difference is, the users get points for every check-in. That is about the only ‘game’ I play these days for points.

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So okay, the friend was a bit annoyed with someone in her contact list who would check in at every mosque or prayer room visited. This friend went on saying that God needs no apps to check a soul in to heaven. I rolled my eyes! Oh did I ever roll my big round eyes, I tell you, when I read that comment. 🙂

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Look, mister… since when does Facebooking, Twittering, FourSquaring and internet-ing have anything to do with God? People check in on FourSquare to let others know their whereabouts. As simple as that. More often than not, people check in just to annoy their cool friends with pictures of cool places, drinking some cool drinks with other cool friends. But if they are like me, the Questa è Enida, I check in to collect points. FourSquare points. Not pahala.

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Empat Petak

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So my baik-sangka is… Other people are probably very much like me.

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Written on: May 5th, 2012

Published on: November 17th, 2014

The reasons for the this entry being published only today:
Because I just wanted something to be published. Because I have not been writing. Because I have not been reading my own writing for ages. Because I feel like I am going insane if I kept on NOT reading and NOT writing any longer. Because I can. Because it’s there (my blog is there, or here, for that matter). Because I imagine if I do not write right now, I am just gonna go to bed dead. Not that I was much alive anyway. But for the rest of my life, let there be words. Not light. Light can go out on me for all I care. Just let these words be me.

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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.

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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.

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“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.”

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

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Hair You!

We were on the way to school this morning feeling fresh and entertained by the Krappi Call on 95.8FM. The car was inching in towards the school gate for the grand drop-off…

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Edrick: I think soon I’m gonna have moustache.

Kitreena: *looks at Edrick’s face* Ohhh yeah Edrick. But you are only eight.

Edrick: Oh kaka you should see my friend Haniff, he’s almost like an adult.

Mommy: Are you sure his name is Haniff, Edrick?

Edrick: Yeah. It is.

Mommy: Not Hairy?

Hehehehehe!

Kitreena: Mom, my friends don’t have hair on their legs. But I have a lot.

Mommy: That’s just the way you are.

Kitreena: Yeah, but Cody doesn’t even have hair on her legs. Mine is so long.

Mommy: You are like Daddy. Don’t you remember how hairy Daddy is?

Edrick: But Kitreena doesn’t have chest hair Mom.

Kitreena: Edrickkkkk! Eeeeyewwwww!

Mommy: Yeah, but you can’t really choose, can you? Like Daddy, he has lotsa hair everywhere but…

Kitreena: Oh yeaahhhhh, but the head.

Mommy: So be thankful you have hair growing in the right places okay.

Kitreena: I ammmm, Mommm!

Hahahahaha!

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The Hairy Fairies...

The Hairy Fairies…

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Go To Yell

Luka di tangan nampak berdarah...

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It just wasn’t her day. Kitreena forgot to bring her violin to school, and so she went straight to the music room just like what she had been doing the whole of last week, to wait for me to bring the violin. When she called me from the music teacher’s phone, I gave her a hard time for not setting it out by the door like usual. But I came back to school anyway, with her violin.

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Her class teacher came to the music room after Kitreena called me (as I was told later that Friday) and scolded her for being ‘blur’. Kitreena was ‘supposed’ to be in her class – although it had been okay for her to be practicing her orchestra on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday (and not having to be in her homeroom). She felt embarrassed and offended, to say the least, being yelled and shouted at by Ms. S in front of everyone in her orchestra. I have heard stories of her being yelled at in her classroom, but this time it wasn’t in front of her other friends who are used to being yelled at.

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And on top of all that… Kitreena fell during recess. Though much of the pain is self chosen, I knew the pain on her knees and elbows was nothing compared to being humiliated by her own teacher for something very trivial. And what was with the name-calling and scolding students for being ‘blur’? Is it not a teacher’s job to clarify rules to the children and to remind them when they forget? I was not going to defend my child for her tendency for being confused. But the yelling and shouting was beyond me.

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I am going to school this Thursday for the parent-teacher meeting. And someone who has been yelling and humiliating not only my child but many other eleven-year-old children, damaging their self-esteem in the process, is so going to have a professional slap on the wrist from me. And from the Principal. I do not send my kids to an international school to be yelled at and embarrassed by an incompetent English teacher who pronounces the word silhouette as sil-how-tea. Na’ah!

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Watch me.

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