29 Ramadhan 1432H

It's still raining....;-(  It doesn't seem to stop. You know the kind of rain like someone is grieving. A sad kind of rain where the tears just roll down and intermittently but non-stopping? It's noon. I am waiting for my rendang to be cooked. I haven't packed my bags yet. I'm just so tired. I am so lazy to go back for Raya. Every year it's like this. A kind of heavy, unsettled, dissatisfied kind of feeling. For so many years Raya has lost its meaning and significance. I love Ramadhan. I just wish that I can look forward to Raya as I do Ramadhan.

This year I break tradition and cooked beef rendang instead of the usual chicken rendang

Maybe it's the rain. It's already a week. I feel depressed and out of the weather. I just need a complete rest. I don't think I'll have that pleasure or luxury. Hari Raya with Noor is tiring. Half the kampung are his relatives.My laundry is not done. Ikram's clothes have to be washed in Melaka/KL if the weather permits. Otherwise, send to the laundry to get it done before he returns to school on Sunday. Zin has agreed to accompany me to go back to Alor Setar since Noor is returning first. I have to send the boys to their respective places. Akmal will go on his own on Monday to the airport and off to Sabah.

This year's Ramadhan is very challenging. I had to practice patience. Tolerance. Acceptance. Redha. Sometimes I question why but just as quickly I was reprimanded by myself - who am I to question what Allah has bestowed upon me? Remember :-
Boleh jadi kamu membenci sesuatu padahal ia amat baik bagi mu, dan boleh jadi kamu meyukai sesuatu, pada hal ia amat buruk bagi mu. Allah mengetahui sedang kamu tidak mengetahui." (Al-Baqarah : 216)

Selamat tinggal Ramadhan. Bulan yang menyimpan seribu rahmat dan keampunan. Kedatangan yang hanya datang setahun sekali. Terlalu banyak dugaan yang Allah uji tahun ini. Kesabaran. Kekuatan. Keimanan. Kesetiaan. Kelaziman. Adakah saya telah menjadi lebih baik? Seburuk-buruk manusia ialah yang apabila Ramadhan ini berlalu, dia adalah sama sahaja sebelumnya. Adakah saya seperti itu? Apakah saya telah melakukan yang terbaik dengan kekuatan dan kesabaran yang telah diberikan? Atau saya hanya mensia-siakan sahaja peluang kerahmatan, keampunan dan kebebasan daripada api neraka ini? Ya Allah, saya terlalu lemah untuk mengahadapi segala ketentuan Mu. Bimbinglah, Pimpinlah hambaMu ini. Temukan diri ku dengan orang yang dapat membimbing ku mendekati Mu dengan lebih baik. Tetapkan hati dan iman ku. Redhailah diriku sebagai hambaMu. Terimalah segala amalan, ibadat, solat dan puasa ku supaya diri ku ada bekalan bila bertemu dengan Mu nanti. InsyaAllah.  

Rain, rain go away....

Remember the nursery rhyme? Rain, rain go away, come again another day, little children want to play....

Here I am...at 4:00pm, Sunday, 28th August / 28th Ramadhan looking out the screen door. Enjoying the cold and refreshing weather. Yet, it was not contentment that I feel. Neither do I feel happy or joy with the rain, Allay's way of cleansing the earth and purify the souls. Ever wonder even in death, we are bathed and cleansed and take the ablution (wudu')?

 It has been raining since Thursday non-stop. On and off but non-stop. Four straight days. This was what happened last year before we were hit by the BIG flood and had to be flood victims. We were forced to move out and evacuated to a relief centre. Yet, everything was made easy by His grace and compassion. It's 2 days to Eid-ul-Fitri. We heard that Thailand's rivers are already swollen. That will start the floods if they overflow. I don't think I can take another flood. Yes, it was a trying time for us. No, we didn't lose out so much of our things like our neighbours. Yes, we looked at the positive side of it and in a way, it taught both of us patience. Yet...the cleaning up afterwards was what I couldn't take it. Allah knows better. I shall leave it in His hands. We are going back to Melaka for the Eid-ul-Fitri and leave our house to Him. Allah kan ada?
"Berdoalah kepada Ku nescaya akan Ku perkenankan."

Words of Wisdom - SELF EMPOWERMENT by Bridget Menezes

"Attachment is commonly interpreted as love. The acid test, however, is whether a person is really giving or taking. It shows itself when you need their love and attention. It is as though a part of you has been handed over to them. ....Real love lets go. Attachment clings."  


"Silence, like a mirror, reveals everything clearly. The mirror does not blame or criticise but helps us to see things as they are."

 "Listening to myself daily helps me to heal myself. Silence heals. If today, I get angry, then I need the medicine of tolerance; when disappointed, the medicine of hope; ego and dependence need self-respect."

"Spend a few minutes thanking God everyday for what you have received."

Expect the unexpected....

Last Friday morning I received an sms from KPT saying that Khor's husband had passed away on Thursday, 18/8. I didn't hear of anything serious happening to her husband. Yes, he had diabetes problem. He opted for early retirement. He had to go for dialysis twice a week. No, I hadn't heard Khor mentioning anything about her husband. It was a shock. He was 58 years old.

Today, I had the opportunity to visit her. I've known her for almost 20 years i.e. since I first came to this school. She was the gentlest and mild natured lady teacher. Almost like Mak. We became friends not just staff - sharing recipes, fruits, asam, groundnuts, children's problems (she has two girls) and being in the same exam department forge the relationship further. We even had hi-tea once in a while when I get together with my non-muslim friends. We hugged long enough for me to feel her pain. Her disbelief. Her acceptance. She had a strong faith in her Buddhism. If she had been a muslim, she'd be under category "warak" unlike me.

 She said she received a call from her brother in-law asking her why her husband called and asked him to come and send him to KMC. Khor called home and talked to him. He said he felt uneasy and his whole body was not feeling normal. Khor said she'd be coming home and told him to wait for her. Unfortunately, she had a notorious class at that time and could only leave at 9:00am. By the time she reached home, her husband was on the floor of the bedroom, unconscious. Luckily her brother in-law arrived at the same time and they tried to carry him up onto the bed. They called the ambulance but it was an hour late due to the driver who didn't know this new housing estate. The paramedic declared him dead. He advised Khor not to send him to the hospital as they would have to do a post mortem. He told her to go to the police station and took along his diabetic card so that they could issue her a death certificate due to diabetes. At least, we could still respect the dead. Being a devout Buddhist, she didn't want to cause undue suffering to the departed soul.

She had regrets for not coming home earlier. All the ifs....the daughter who was home for the semester break had gone swimming with friends after she saw to it that her father had taken breakfast. Everything was so normal. He had difficulty breathing It could have been a heart attack. He did had heart blockage. The saddest part she said she will be retiring next year and nobody's home. She thought that she would have her husband to take care of. She is very patient although she did complain about her husband albeit in her quiet way. Well, who doesn't???? I told her not to have regrets. If its meant to be, then it's meant to be. She believes in fate. She had just completed her training as a volunteer worker with Tzu Chi Foundation. Maybe, I told her he did not want her to be worried about him when she started her volunteer work. She would not be able to join them if she has him. In her gentleness, there is strength. In her fragility, there is sturdiness. In her faith, there is comfort.

Today, too, I learned that Fadzillah's husband had passed away last Thursday (11/8/2011) after being hospitalised for 2 days due to a stroke. He was only 46 years old. Fadzillah had transferred out to another school but  we did meet up during meetings or pemantauan English oral. I don't know where she lives now. I must remember to ask Fauzi about this. Izinkanlah Ya Allah.

Loneliness. Khor is afraid of being lonely after the funeral when her daughters have to return to their respective colleges. She planned to go and stay with her mum until evening and then return home. I love my aloneness. Alone but never lonely. My sister used to say that I should just stay in the jungle as I prefer to be by myself and with myself.

Farewell fariq426@gmail

Well, I created that account in 2008 when En. Jusni, the Head of Department of ICT at IPDA told us to create a blog so that we could start writing. It was an interesting way of replacing a diary. I enjoyed it and kept at it or blogging which is the correct term. I wrote about anything that matters to me. Not daily but anything, any time. I wrote about my sons finally soaring and flying away from home. About letting go of them. I wrote about my surgery which I prayed and hoped nobody who matters to me had to go through it. I wrote about Bapak. Now, it's all gone into the labyrinths of the virtual world. I had done something to my account that Google had blocked my e-mail account and my blog. Gone too are the personal friends' letters who matter a lot to me. Oh well, if it's meant to be, it's meant to be. It's like burning an old diary.

Why fariq? What is so significant about this name? Even my sons asked. My friends queried because it was not related at all to my name or my husband's or any of my sons. Fariq was a name created when I was in Form 4. Hence the numbers 426. Form Four to Form 6. Well, being in an all girls' school, we created nicknames from boy's names. I had never met a Fariq. I liked it because one of my closest friend's name started with F. Fauziah binti Tumin. I've lost track of her since she got married and MUI Bank became redundant. And I had always liked the letter Q. All these years as a teacher, I have yet to meet a Fariq. There was a Tariq. But no Fariq whether in Johor, Kelantan, Kuala Lumpur or Kedah. We used to give nick names to anybody and everybody. When Sue and I were in GPMS class, there was a Mr. Ireet, as in irritating; a Pinky from "The Brighton Rock" our literature book in Form Four, a Willie which was from the character "Little House on the Prairie"; si Tu Ha...this is so that when we were talking about these people, nobody knew whom we were referring to! :-D

Besides, my name is so common when I wanted to create an ID for my e-mail. Thus I combined the elusive name and my name given by my father. Hani. Only my family calls me Hani. My husband. Even my in-laws call me Siti. I do not want anybody to use Hani unless you have been a part of my life or my heart. Only another man used to call me Hani but he is now only a friend. A long lost friend whom I found again. Now it's Siraz as in Siti Rohani Aziz and 171 - the plate number of the red car which I used for almost 15 years. Now it's me, my name and I.

What's in a name one may ask? To me...everything because Mak and Bapak called me Hani so it was special to me.

At a wakaf near masjid Pantai Irama, Bachok, Kelantan. (June,2011) 

Ramadhan 1432H - Part 2

Today is the 16th Ramadhan 1432H. What have been happening to me this past precious fortnight of the most treasured month of the year? Satu kenikmatan. MasyaAllah. SubhanAllah.

The starting of Ramadhan was peaceful enough. The challenge started with the preparation for the trial PMR exam. It was so exhausting getting ready the hall. Hilang juga kesabaran dengan students yang really try your patience. Then, balik Melaka-Muar-Alor Setar to visit Ijah, who met with an accident and helping out with Shah whatever we can help to lighten his load. Then the whole week of the trial PMR exam. Try controlling 250 students in one hall alone. Run the trial exam alone most of the time.The teachers just didn't turn up or help out. Oh well, it's their loss. I dapat pahala free. Syukur Alhamdulillah. Hari-hari doa ku ialah doa Nabi Musa agar melembutkan hati students dan melapangkan serta memudahkan tugas dan tanggungjawab ku di dewan. MasyaAllah, at the end of the week - all I can say was "Sekarang baru ku faham apa itu nikmat keletihan." Dalam keletihan ada kekuatan. Dalam kelemahan ada kekuatan. Dalam kesukaran ada kemudahan. "Maka nikmat Allah manakah yang kamu dustakan?" (Surah Ar-Rahman)

The past week I have to cook for 5 people instead of 3. Since one of the staff had quit, there's only Noor and Akmal. So, since they could not come back for berbuka, I went to the shop. So, I cooked extra for the staff everyday. Alhamdulillah, hari-hari dapat jamu orang buka puasa. Ada hikmahnya walaupun ada kesukaran. I dapat pergi masjid awal for solat maghrib, mengaji Quran, jemaah solat Isya', solat Terawih dan solat Witir sebagai penutup. Nikmatnya hanya Allah yang tahu. Beriktikaf dan berjemaah di rumah Allah. Sungguh kecil dan remeh bagi setengah orang yang memang berkampung di masjid tetapi amat besar maknanya bagi ku. SubhanAllah.

A lesson to be learnt.

Last Thursday, 4th August, Noor, myself, Akmal, Suri (his sister from kangar) and Farhan (his nephew) travelled back to Melaka. We decided to leave after terawih prayers. The reason for the sudden journey - Ijah(his sister in-law) met with an accident in Muar. Although they said she was okay, I told Noor that if it was my family, I would drop everything and went home. At least for peace of mind and soul. He wanted to go back but with me along. Hmmm...mmm

Ijah crashed into a 14 wheel trailer while trying to avoid a motorbike along the Muar-Segamat trunk road. She entered the oncoming lane and a trailer was heading her way. She managed to swerve to avoid head-on collision. The trailer hit the driver's side of the car. The engine part fell apart and the front tyres rolled away. Shah said if she hadn't call him, he thought that Ijah was already gone. She suffered first degree burns along her right cheek and neck. A torn  muscle on her right leg which needed 8 stitches. The burns were caused by the air bag. She's bed ridden as her right leg still could not support her without the help of crutches. As for her lovely face, the doctor said it would take a year to heal. She is still young being in her early thirties. So, maybe she has age on her side.

 I, too, usually drive very fast and impatient because I am very tired at the end of the day and all I wanted is to go home. I must practice caution and be more alert. InsyaAllah, we will all learn something from this incident...

Wednesday, 3rd August 2005

Izwan smsed at about 5:00pm that Mak had passed away. I was at the shop. If the message was from Izwan, then it must be true. Adik called a few minutes later asking for the truth. I told her Izwan was not the type to make jokes. I called up Hamid and confirmed. It was a Wednesday. I told Noor and told him I'm going back to Melaka. He said it was okay. I'm glad for his silence because I just could not comprehend the news yet. I called my HM and told her about Mak. She was very compassionate and told me to go home and she'd arrange whatever leave when I came back. We dropped by UiTM Penang and took Amirah, my niece with us. This was her favourite granddaughter since she took care of her until she was 8 years old. I called my friend in Seremban and asked her to go to Akmal's school and sent him to the toll booth at Senawang. Nadia and Shaun would fetch him. We would all meet in Melaka. I was quiet all along the journey and just silent tears kept rolling down my cheeks. Noor was quiet, too. Bless him.

We reached Peringgit nearly Subuh. I went to the surau and did my prayers first. The old neighbours were there and gave us their condolences. We met up and decided that everything would be done at Izwan's house at Bertam. Kak Ti, Kak Hajar, Wah, Hanah and I bathed her along with the ladies from the masjid. She was so peaceful. She was so thin. She was so fragile. She looked as though she was sleeping. Even the ladies commented that she was so clean. It was as though she had prepared for her death and cleaned herself first. Kak Ti ambilkan wudu' dia. We tried so hard not to cry.

The ladies kapankan dia with so much gentleness. We helped them with as much tenderness and love we had for her. Abang, my half-brother and her step-son, imamkan solat jenazah dia. Zin galikan kubur dia. Dia tak bagi sesiapa pun tolong even though his friends were with him. Dia galikan sebelah kubur Bapak kat Peringgit. Zin sendiri tunggu dalam kubur dan sambut jenazah Mak. Abang talkinkan mak tiri dia. Hamid bacakan doa untuk mak dia. We let her go dengan tenang dan penuh kasih sayang. Later we converge to Izwan's house and discussed beradik-beradik. Noor had gone to Bukit Rambai with the boys so that I could have this time with my siblings. We did not cry anymore. We talked about Mak. We recalled the happy times. We laughed. We cried as we each recalled the good times. The trying times. We let her go with our love and prayers.

My friends from USM called to inform me that they had taken my graduation robe and the mortar board for me. My graduation was on the 11th August 2005. She did not live to see me graduated. Bapak did not live to see me graduated from teaching college. It was a solemn affair for me. I wasn't prepared for it. I didn't even buy a new dress. My friends were so supportive and encouraging in the face of my dearest loss.

Today is the 6th year you have gone but never forgotten. Whatever good deed I do, it would always be for you. Mak was the most generous person ever lived. "Biar orang buat kita, jangan kita buat orang" finally meant something to us. That was why she led a peaceful, calm and patient life. Whatever I had become and who I am today was because of Mak and Bapak. May their souls rest in peace. In addition to this beautiful and blessed month of Ramadhan, may all the goodness we do, will be for them. Al-fatihah. Amin.

Mak...(3)

"Biar orang buat kita, jangan kita buat orang" This was Mak's principle in life. We used to argue it out with her. Being young, ignorant and rebellious, we always pushed her to "buat orang balik". We always said it was unfair to let people off the hook. She accepted everything that happened to her in her life. She was such a serene, the most patient and calm lady. I had never seen her angry. Like Bapak, both of them were not explosive. She never nagged. Bapak never scolded that we were afraid of making him angry. If he so ever raised his voice, we would already ran helter skelter up the stairs. We refused to come down until he was not around. In a house full of people, it was not noisy nor chaotic. It was orderly, neat and well-organised.

Maybe that was why her life was so loved and easy going. Let people do whatever they want - she had suffered from the envy of people. For years Bapak tried to cure her of "buatan orang". She had hemorrhaging and suffered from the loss of blood for a few years. She had to give up her eldest and youngest daughters. Kak Zizah to Bapak's adopted sister and Sue to Kak Che Mah, my half sister. She could not take care of the baby due to her condition. Yet, she was never bitter.

She had nobody. Bapak was an only child after the death of his brother at a young age. They only had the children. Maybe that was why Allah gave them so many children. We never fought with each other. We enjoyed each other's company. We had nobody else except us. We shared most things and in the end, we were more like friends instead of sisters. We were very disciplined, thanks to Bapak. We were pampered in our own way, with whatever Bapak could afford. Yet I felt so rich even though we also used hand me downs, always late in paying our school fees and practically no money most of the time. Bapak may not give us the luxuries of life but we had a big, sprawling home, good food everyday....one thing Bapak was always very particular was food. He would remember each child's favourite food. Each child's birthday. Bapak and Mak had each other.

The last time I went down to see her was the June holidays, 2005. I had just completed my studies at USM. I went to stay at Izwan's house at Bertam where she was living then. I slept with her in the room after talking the night away. I woke up at around 4:00am. She was awoke and sat on her bed looking at me and Ikram sleeping on the floor near her bed. I told her to go back to sleep. She just smiled and told me to go back to sleep. I told her I was going for my pilgrimage in November. She was very happy for me. The next day I took her to the doctor. Waited for her until she told me to go back to my mother in law's house. She didn't want my in-laws and Noor to feel slighted with me. She always thought of other people first.

That was the last time I saw her. She passed away very quietly in her sleep. Always waiting near the door. For her children who seldom return and whom she had accepted would be busy with their lives. I was glad of the night with her. I had no regrets. I had tried to be the best daughter as I knew how. When the others started to cry, I told them Mak redha. She had that uncanny way of understanding and accepting the ways of her children. We had given her all we could to make her life easy and happy. We had no regrets. We loved her and she loved us.

Mak had always loved flowers

1 Ramadhan 1432H

What a lovely day albeit tiring. I managed to make a little contribution for the moreh. I thought I had no opportunity to sedekah today since I was home. Subhanallah. I wanted to leave home and sent the food for berbuka, our taman representative was asking for contributions for moreh at the mosque. Alhamdulillah. Dapat juga satu kebajikan hari ini. Semoga pahalanya di hadiahkan buat Mak dan Bapak agar roh-roh mereka tenang dan damai di sana. Harapan hari ini dipermudahkan. Dapat I masakkan makanan buka puasa dan hidangkan untuk orang berbuka namely the staff at the shop. Allah izinkan I permudahkan mereka berbuka puasa since all the shops are closed today being a public holiday in Kedah. I cooked nasi beriyani, kurma ayam, daging black pepper and telur sambal plus mix vegetables. I made jelly gula melaka and fried instant curry puff. Subhanallah. Murahnya rezeki. Semoga Kau murahkan rezeki anak-anakku Ikram dan Syafiq. Permudahkan ramadhan tahun ini untuk ku, ya Allah. Izinkanlah aku buat yang terbaik agar aku mendapat keredhaan dan kerahmatan serta keampunan Mu. Amin.

Mak...(2)

Three days after bapak's death, the land lord wanted his land back and no negotiations. We were given a month to move out. It seemed that Bapak knew this would happen and had prepared the house at Pantai Peringgit. I loved that house. If I had lived in that house - 4078, Peringgit - for 20 years... imagine mak. She had lived there since she got married. She had already lost her pillar of strength and now to be uprooted. She decided to stay with Hamid in Muar. I lost everything. My father and best friend. I was "anak Bapak". There was no home to go home to. Nobody was waiting for me. No weekly letters. If I felt displaced and lost, I couldn't imagine Mak. I was still studying in JB. I had no life then. Every holidays was spent with Mak. I became her daughter, friend, advisor, peace maker, counsellor. She had depended on Bapak for all her married life. I had to teach her how to pay bills. How to go to the bank and withdrew money. How to go and take the bus. Nobody was home. Everybody was busy. I was the only one who had more holidays than the others. The only government worker aka "cikgu".

I broke off the only serious relationship which I had since Form 6. In college, I was friends with everybody but committed to no one. Nobody could open my heart again. There was only Mak now. She was under anti-depressant for most of her life.  She looked weak and fragile but there's strength there. She was just trying very hard to live on her own. She just wanted to be needed. She just wanted to feel loved and wanted. She was so used to live her life for us. Now that we had grown, left home, gotten married, moved away.....she was alone. I emphatised. I gave up my life for her. When I wanted to get married, I was worried about her first. My sister said it was alright. She would take Mak to live with her. I asked Mak if I should get married. It meant that I would not be here near her. She was worried that I might not be happy. Noor was from the kampung and we were pure urbanites. She was afraid I might not get along with my in-laws. Well, now we know who was right. I tried Mak, I really tried to fit in because I didn't want you to be unhappy for me. You had taught me well. I wouldn't want to disappoint you. You understood me better. Most of all, you just loved me for what I am.

Her later years saw her in and out of hospital for a swollen heart. I think it was depression. She had stopped taking her anti-depressant pills. She began to be worried of everything. We took turns taking care of her. I took her back to Alor Setar. She was down to 35kg. When I bathed her I had to be so gentle because I was so afraid she would feel the pain. She was so fragile that I was willing to give anything to see her smiling and taking life easy again. I bought a house for her in Alor Setar. I was willing to leave Noor for her. She knew that and she insisted that she wanted to go back to Melaka. She never wanted to trouble anybody and of course never her children. She used to tell me that her prayers everyday - "Jangan sampai dia menyusahkan anak-anak. Terpaksa bergantung kepada anak-anak." Alhamdulillah. Sehingga ke nafas yang terakhir, dia masih boleh menguruskan diri. Tidak bergantung kepada sesiapa pun. It was her choice to live with the single youngest brother. We might not like it but we respected her choice. By now, she had symptoms of Alzheimer's. She kept forgetting things and said things that hurt my sisters. It nearly created a rift and caused a lot of unhappiness among us. I kept telling them that this was not Mak. We knew Mak better. Towards the end, nobody wanted to come home to visit her. She somehow understood but she could not comprehend.

Mak...(1)

Mak was a very simple woman. Elegant, gentle, neat, soft spoken yet firm. She never raised her voice or expressed her dissatisfaction about her life. She never talked about her disappointments in her children. Mind you, she had 12 of us. Her life was very difficult as a child. I used to spend a lot of time with her especially after Bapak's demise. She was a Chinese adopted by a Java couple in Singapore. Being given away by parents she never knew or siblings never found. The Malay family that took her in passed her from one extended family to another. She had a hard life and a typical cruel, unhappy stepmother and step grandmother. She was still lucky that she managed to go to school until 12 years old. She could read and write especially jawi. She worked as an amah in the hospital before being married off at 17 to my father , who was 20 years her senior. She had stepchildren who were just about 10 years younger. She didn't look after her stepchildren. They were raised by their aunt from their late mother's side. Yet they were close to us due to my father's upbringing. Mak pampered them whenever they returned home.

 Being married to an English educated man and an urbanite, Bapak was a typical conservative gentleman. He took care of everything and Mak only had to stay home and took care of the house and children. He engaged makciks to help her out with the house chores. Mak's job was to cook. Bapak went to the market. She hardly left the house. When she needed or wanted something like furniture, clothes, jewellery or whatnots, Bapak would call these people to the house. All she had to do was just to choose whatever she wanted. She was really pampered by Bapak. She took care of us with love, understanding and open mindedness. She complemented Bapak actually. Where Bapak was strict, disciplinarian and oh...so conservative, she was more lenient, conspired with us and very open minded.

She was without knowing her roots or her sense of belonging.  Bapak was an only child with an adopted sister. We grew up together without the influence of aunts or uncles. We grew up very close to each other and totally depended on each other without suffocating ourselves. Mak let us made our own decisions. After Bapak died, she was so lost. She totally broke down. She was helpless. Instead of having her children for support, one by one began to leave home. Hanah went off to Japan. Adik went to USA. Hafsah to KL. Hamid to Muar. Izwan to boarding school. I was in JB. Nobody was home. The saddest part was having to let go of the house where we grew up in three days after Bapak's funeral. Who would not fall apart?

Che Poon Binti Suki...we got her good genes -fair skin, youthful looks, straight black hair and small eyes :-D