Happy Birthday to Me

Happy birthday to me.

The day was celebrated modestly, for the truth is I had very little expectations. It’s a rather personal celebration too, because to me it’s another step of growing up and growing old, another step for overcoming all kinds of fears and taking my dreams in the grasp of my hands.

After the exam I stopped by at my classmate’s house, somehow I felt she must’ve detected the cloud passing over my face as I told her of recent news. She invited me to have lunch with her mom, and another modest and unexpected celebration ensued. I went to the Customs House Library afterward to apply for the membership. How I felt so small in the city! Compared to Coogee, which is peaceful and decent and so relaxed, Sydney CBD is a complete opposite. I am falling in love with the country more and more each day.

At home, a chocolate mud cake decorated with frozen berries greeted me. My kind landlady has prepared it with the help of my roommate, I blew a candle and made a silent wish. One of the boys gave me a chocolate, while the other who is studying for the exam at his friend’s house gave me a quick call. Another housemate, whom I am fond to call a best friend now, gave me a hand fan with the following letter which makes my heart grows larger:

Dear Ati

(Sweet Pie & Honey Bun & Sugar & Sweetheart)

I still have a fresh memory of the first day we saw each other: the first day we took a bus to the Uni (I didn’t know where the CLB is and you just directed me there, you know I was so grateful at that time). The first lunch we had in the student’s food court (Actually I just watched you eating and read your novel and asked lots of stupid questions). The first night we went back home together after class. AND…

I wil always remember the first days. AS WELL AS…

The evening we went to see the festival and had snacks in that cake shop (Do you still remember we decided to have that $5 cake the next time however we haven’t fulfilled our promise yet, and the ice cream shop as well)

The day for celebration of the end of fasting. Remember to teach me how to cook that chicken some other day!!… (Lots of other days and evenings)

I love your cookies. I love your brownies. I love all the other desserts you have made which I cannot tell the names.

But most importantly, I love being together with you. I admire the peace in your characteristics and the consideration for others. I always feel comfortable and relaxed and safe and even lazy!!! (Lazy to communicate in good English, because whenever I want to express something, I don’t have to say the whole sentence to you, you can figure out anyway even by my face expression, not with a word, sometimes!)

LAST BUT NOT LEAST,

Happy Birthday and Happy Everyday to My Dear Ati.

Yours,
Vivian Forever

I talked to my dad later, asking about mom. My little niece was there and I talked to her for a good ten minutes. She sounded so grown-up and collected I was choked to tears, I feel like I was the child talking to an aunt. My dad called again later, which I answered while struggling to stay awake as I had gone to sleep earlier, my mom was on the phone, her fragile voice roused fears in my heart, but I dismissed it and we talked as lighthearted as usual.

My best friend who had conveniently forgotten it was my birthday said hi to me, and again his smile warmed my heart. These people, these lights in my life will keep me strong, will keep my wobbly legs standing despite it all.

Happy birthday to me, and happy everyday to all of you - with the deepest love from me.

Cita-Cita Bangsa

Dalam hal itu, orang sering lupa bahwa bangsa sebenarnya bukan sebuah asal. Ia sebuah cita-cita—dan di dalamnya termaktub cita-cita untuk hal-hal yang universal: kebebasan dan keadilan. Bangsa adalah kaki langit.

Kaki langit: impian yang mustahil, sulit, tapi berharga untuk disimpan dalam hati. Sebab ia impian untuk merayakan sesuatu yang bukan hanya diri sendiri, meskipun tak mudah.

Sebuah bangsa adalah sebuah proses. Jangan takut dengan proses itu, kata orang yang arif. Tak jarang datang saat-saat yang nyaris putus harapan, tapi seperti kata Beckett dalam Worstward Ho, ”Coba lagi. Gagal lagi. Gagal dengan lebih baik lagi.”

Goenawan Mohamad, October 2008

I watched the news about the Bali incident on TV recently, which reminds me of the Dolphin memorial over at the Coogee beach (which is only about 5 minutes away from the house). Funny how news like this might not affect me as much if I am in Malaysia at present. We cease to care when we’re in our comfort zones.

There are times I cringe every time people look at my scarf, and asked ‘are you from Indonesia?’ - it feels like waiting for a death sentence. I know I should not feel like I am responsible, and far from guilty. But would it not be of indifference and arrogance if I try to dismiss it as nothing to do with my religion?

Imagining Happiness

(Now some people say that little Lucie had been asleep upon the stile- but then how could she have found three clean pocket-handkins and a pinny, pinned with a silver safety-pin? And besides- I have seen that door into the back of the hill called Cat Bells- and besides I am very well acquainted with dear Mrs. Tiggy-winkle!)

The Tale of Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle by Beatrix Potter

What makes me happy? So people ask. Walking alone in the quiet morning or burstling afternoon alike makes me happy. Ruffling my fingers through the fur of lazy cat bathing the morning sun makes me happy. A friend’s smile and a friend’s hug makes me happy. A sight of a lovely old couple holding hands walking side by side makes me happy.

But most of all, reading makes me happy. Books give me companies no man can. Books teach me new things, they take me to new places, they introduce me to weird but amazingly admiring friends. Books fill up times I’d have otherwise passed alone, they make me laugh, they make me cry, they make me shriek hysterically, they make me swooned with love.

It seems so far it was book which drives me to achieve my dreams. Books allow me to believe in myself, to express my own ideas and my owns words. Books let me see the world for what it is, not simply through the lens of authoritative people who wants to control other people’s lives. Books introduces me to similar others who struggles daily to let their voices heard, from around the world through different times. Books get me to where I am now and I am immensely happy with what I’ve achieved so far - the love of my family, the joy of friendships, the accomplishments of my passion. Now let me ask you a question, are you happy?

Content

“You are cold, because you are alone; no contact strikes the fire from you that is in you. You are sick; because the best of feelings, the highest and the sweetest given to man, keeps far away from you. You are silly, because suffers as you may, you will not beckon it to approach; nor will you stir one step to meet it where it waits you.”

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte

It’s difficult for me to be disappointed these days. Perhaps the old age is catching up with me, in which a certain favorite author of mine has aptly described it,’you’re an adult when you know you won’t die out of heartache’. To which I find it rather amusing, to attribute my inability to feel (and sometimes to respond) to maturity and wisdom. A friend of mine, who one day stumbled upon me on my praying mat, voiced our her envy for the solace I find in religion.

True, in many cases I find myself at peace with things around me. I am not afraid of getting hurt, I am not afraid of losing, I am not afraid of new things and the unknown. But is it not contradictory to derive my strength from God and yet be at odds with Him at the same time? It’s peculiar, but reassuring nonetheless. For this how I wish I could engage in conversations with God.

A Short Breather

A little elf came to visit yesterday, taking my time off work but giving me a bucketful of excuses to get good foods and a blast of time.

A junior from IIU, who has been spending her sweet post-graduation holiday in Brisbane, paid a short visit to Sydney. I’d have followed her back to Brisbane if not for the impending exam next week. Nevertheless, time is still plenty and my stay in the Land Down Under is to be lived fully each day.

Her visit was short, and our time spent was brief because she was visiting her relatives at the same time. I took her on a modest tour to the uni, having our breakfast at the library lawn and making avid observations to the campus life in Australia. We walked on my house afterwards, stopping at the Chish and Fips to get the infamous Lonely Planet reviewed fish and chips.

After lunch, we took a walk along the Eastern Coastal Walkway in time to send her off to the train terminal in Bondi Junction. Much to our delight, the Sculpture by the Sea began at the same day, so we had the pleasure of examining the artworks. To me however, despite all the sculptures, it’s the marble gravestones in Waverley Cemetery which never failed to take my breath way. Hundreds of stories are engraved on the stones, and I could almost feel the emotions invoked within it.

I met her again after few days, to send her off to the airport for Brisbane. I was glad with the short interim, I hope she is too. Thank you sis for coming!

Academic Reflections

Re-writing blog post is a good way to reflect, I think. The passing week has been splendid and full. Without intending to sound geeky, I had fun finishing the assignments. One was on the subject of river management, and another the historical evolution and philosophical framewok behind environmental governance in Malaysia. Uncovering Malaysian systems to me is a revelation in itself. Oh yes, tak kenal maka tak cinta applies rather appropriately in my case, I think the country now is growing dear to my heart.

Taking time to learn about the structure of our country, the progress it has made and the systems involved in achieving it is of particular importance to me and seeing it in light of international settings - I ardently hope we could learn more, because hasty judgments certainly do no good to me and my generation.

On a different note, I finally discovered a way to my friends’ heart - brownies. I suppose I had instinctively known it before, only I’ve never really applied it in the Land Down Under. While waiting for my group members to come in celebrating the end of our assignment, I took out a box of brownies I made and in a flashing seconds the walkway where I sat became a hub for lively discussion, not to mention an outlet for new friends and acquaintances as well, affable seniors who spent their time in Vietnam and Sarawak among many.

I love Malaysia for the tender abode it gives me, but I love Australia for the fulfilling life it allows me.

Eid Tales

I am long overdue for my hari raya stories, I know. School took off at full speed as soon as the break (which I had enjoyed only barely) was over. In addition, as much as the school works consume my time, and drain me of my energy to pursue personal cause - I am fully intoxicated by it.

Driven, single-minded, determined, workaholic, or simply, textbook - I rejoice in each and every adjective.

To cut a long story short, Ramadhan to me was short and far from being exemplary throughout my Muslim years. Eid, however, although short-lived, was well-spent.

I spent two full days cooking. My housemates had generously helped with the cutting of various ingredients, for we are unfortunately devoid of any blender. Thankfully, the chicken rendang turned out perfectly. We even made nasi impit the old-way. The kuah lodeh was a bit tricky, as too many stuffs had overloaded the pot, but the dried shrimps saved the taste and it was finished to the last bits.

The best part would be, of course, the myriad of guests which came to the house. A classmate I am most fond of, came with her husband and brought with her a sumptuous Indian dish. Another classmate from Massachusetts arrived with his girlfriend from Japan, bringing with him a panna cotta and his housemate, who happens to be my jovial classmate from London.

My father’s long-time friend came with his wife too, all the way from Campbeltown (Australia, not Scotland). In the dining table he shared with us his stories of my father, the unseen, the unheard of. Together the husband and wife had given us numerous advices on places to see, events to join and countries to visit.

The food, the conversation, and the companions made up my day, and I am myself amazed at the range of social circles I had accumulated. Not even in my dreams had I thought I would get to where I was, and yet there I was, there I am.

The Idea of Home

I missed going into the forest again. I am sorry the dancing class had ended and I am fully certain I am going to miss it sorely. I missed dozens of my books, sleeping by to the sight of them stacked unruly on the study desk, and waking up to the towering bookcase at the end of my feet and staring blissfully at the neatly structured ones, yet to be read, yet to be acquainted, yet to be discovered.

I missed my little nieces, a piercing shriek of one and a calm smile of another. I missed the smell of my dad and my brothers, a subtle waft of their clove-smelling cologne. I missed driving through the small streets of Kuala Terengganu, stopping by at the isolated Petronas service station and saying hi in Trengganu speak to the locals.

I missed the idea of a home, a family to return to. I missed the idea of a life, a splendid lived one.

Reminiscence

My heart is a bleeding sore. Not out of pain, not out of sufferings. But out of love, longing, and honour of a long-time friend. Of love and friendship so beautiful, so pure, so innocent. I can feel the bursting emotions, it takes my breath away, it constricts a knot in my stomach, it seeps away dizziness to my head.

My friend, my charming, precious friend - he brought a smile to my face today. He reminded me of stories from our past, stories nearly put marginal due to my eroding memory. I feel like an old maid made to feel young again.

Major weeper, Habib, and alangkah! cropped up in our conversation and brought me back to the times when we had allowed our imaginations roam free. Both writers, we teased each other with words as we speak. At times we amused ourselves as if we are characters in stories. Oh how utterly delightful!

Thinking Death

I could not stop thinking about the girl who fell off the cliffs last Friday. All of us in the house had heard the blaring sirens of the ambulance and rescue chopper the night before, and little did we know a life has been taken away at the very moment.

Even though I understand how calamity takes place all the time everywhere all over the world. The nearness of the tragedy to our place, the real-time of its incident, our hapless ignorance, and helplessness of the situation - reminds me initially of what Bill Bryson wrote in Down Under about the land’s notoriety - its dry and hot desert, its poisonous snakes and spiders, its shark and saltwater crocodile, or in our case, its high and rocky cliffs.

It makes me think, too, about the seemingly random ways death and fate pay a visit to each and everyone of us. It could’ve been me, it could’ve been anyone I know.

I thought about the girl’s last moment, the time she spent, the people she thought of. I wonder how other lives could go on when another life has stopped. I wonder at the unbearable pain suffered by those who loved her and how it could be healed again.

Questions plague me, and all I can do is pray for the girl to rest in peace. Ameen.

Eid Tales

A peculiar scene occurred to me in the first morning of Raya when a group of boys emerged from the stairs in John Niland Scientia Building - handsomely cloaked in baju melayu and seemingly occupied with trying to find the right angle for their photos.

There they were, soaked in the blissful joy of ‘Eid, and there was I in my shirt, jeans and backpack, filled with enthusiasm to begin again my day in the class taught by a teacher so amazing I feel almost disappointed now the class has ended.

The meaning of ‘Eid comes to me in a different package this year, the triumph of enduring Ramadhan was not celebrated with the usual new baju kurung, ketupat, and rendang. Oh yes how I missed all those Malaysian food, but things I gain in its place at the moment is no trade-off I wish to afford.

Ramadhan, with it came the confusions of things which need changing in my country, religion, and environment. Rendered helpless by the gigantic challenges, I was almost on the verge of burning out with the causes I am fighting for.

But Gerald Frape seems to come (or to be sent, as I prefer to see it) aptly at the right moment. Discussing about communicating democracy, driving social change, and influencing people behavior throughout the 4-day classes has given me a new sense of directions and power in controlling my life, things I can do and I can’t do.

Therefore in missing my family, my home, and our Malaysian ways of celebrating Eid-ul-Fitr - I am not devastated. By virtue of qadha’ and qadr (God’s plans), the old adage ‘as one door closes, another door opens‘ rings true. I’ll write about it soon, in the meantime;

Selamat Hari Raya Aidilfitri and Maaf Zahir Batin.