..the many ways of blindness..

..after a while we reached a stage where there is nothing to quarrel about..things just settled into an agreement, acquiescence..any perceived aberrations elicit no protests..life is routine and humdrum..there is a perpetual calm in the sea..and, sometimes, at odd moments when I am alone with my thoughts, I missed my polygamous mayhem days..when the mind was almost always in overdrive..countering arguments..driving in my misguided points..and the left foot pressed on the accelerator, taking corners with squeals and a rush..

..and as I wrote this, I glanced at my wife who is snoring peacefully in bed..she was once my second wife..whom society would normally tabbed as the home-wrecker..emissaries sent to discover the type of girl she was that pakmat was so taken up marrying must have been a bit taken back when they met her..just a simple village girl, comfortable in kurung and sarong..hardly the sex-siren that they thought she was, measuring against my gallavanting ways..but we married properly..properly in the sense that I followed procedures, filled in the proper forms and went through interviews by the kadi's office..

..extract from pakmat's interview..

...officer from kadi's office:..hmm, I see that pakmat already had a wife, children, and good salary..

..pakmat: silence..

..ofko: ..so.....why this need for polygamy?..

..pakmat: silence..

..from wife..

..ofko:...hmm..do you know he is already married?

..wife: I know..

..ofko: and you still want to marry him?

..wife: yes..

..her late father..

..ofko: ..do you know that your daughter will be marrying a married man?..
..father: yes..
..ofko..you have no objection?
..father: she is the one marrying..not me..
..ofko: silence..

..we married a week later..and the peaceful sea knew no more the calm. there is no end to man's fascination with pain....

..I am not a so-po..just a so, so..

..and I hope whoever wins in Galas will give 

a thought to the environment..

I think its about time the yellow river of Kelantan 

take on the hue of a river it once was..

..it has suffered for more than two decades..

..most of my children could not remember it being anything else

except yellow..

..pic from TheStar..the river cruise that was no more..

..who would pay to cruise on a muddy river?

pic taken without permission from

 http://www.flickr.com/photos/azmibogart/with/2950615073/

..fishing for non-existence fish,,

..a time for living..a time for dying..a time to change my cell phone..

..yesterday Ayam, still in Ramadan mode,  woke me up two hours before dawn...she followed me as I staggered to the kitchen for her pre-dawn meal..10 minutes later as I pushed the window to let her out, I saw the silvery moon through the trees low in the western sky..caressed by a light breeze, I sat still for a second..no..it is not 'thank God its Friday..instead it is 'thank you God, for extending my time on this earth for one more day...

..as I started the car I heard the muezzin's call to prayers..its 5.45 am..a movement caught my eye..it was Mekbu..and she had just delivered a litter of 4 kittens..I stroked her and gave her words of encouragement..by the time I reached the mosque the congregation was already well into the first rakaat..but its ok..its a Friday..sujud sejadah..prostration on the prayer mat whilst in solat...and was told by the imam that Ayah Mat, 76, who lived across the river from my house, but just across the road from the mosque, had died of heart failure..solat jenazah, prayers for the decease, was scheduled after solat Asr..

..later, late in the morning, the downcast sky cleared as we headed for Kota Bharu, my wife and I..it is becoming  almost a weekly ritual, this weekly trips..but I need to buy a new phone..my trusty Sony Ericsson K801 had finally laid down its tired keys..after two years of faithful service, it gave up on the run.. time to get a new phone..my children sighed a sigh of relief...they called it the dinosaur phone..papa's dino phone, not quite realising the implication..I smiled..I got myself a Nokia C5..it came with an English lady telling me to take the corners 300 meters ahead, left or right..and Auji is in love with it

..yes, it was an eventful Friday for pakmat..thank you, Lord...

..scenes of a night market..

..scenes from the weekly night market, set along Pantai Irama, Bachok..

..every Friday from 5.00 pm to 10.00 pm..with the sea as backdrop..

..children romping by the water edge..

..horses galloping by..and a para-glider whizzing above..

..but for this man with impaired sight..time to set up his keyboard..

..pakmat slipped him a ringgit and requested the song 'Aku Semut Merah',

a dangdut pakmat's era..he looked confused..he was much younger than I thought..

..he did not know the song..he belted out a nasyid, instead..

remembering the time when he accompanied her with some friends at Globe Silk Store, along 

Jalan Tuanku Abdul Rahman..he loitered outside..

there were two of them with their keyboard and bongos..

..it was mainly dangdut..he donned his sunglasses and sang along with them..

'..untuk apa kau menyayangi ku..

..orang yang tak punya apa apa..' 

..and got a ringgit or two thrown his way...

..Michele Yeoh, aging and death..

..I am not one of her ardent fans..but I have been watching her long before Crouching Tiger..she is an Ipoh girl, after all..and we know what they say of Ipoh girls...indubitably fair and smooth of skin, and pretty of face with figures to die for..I can rave on about her exploits, being an A-class actress and an international campaigner that she is..but last August, she was 48 years old..and she does not look it..known for doing her own stunts, she is out with a new movie, Reign of Assassins, by John Woo

pics taken from www.starpulse.com
and www.micheleyeoh.info

..she also said that there are two things guaranteed in life..one, you will age...two, you will die..

..she must have said it simply to the reporter who interviewed her about her beauty belying her age..and pakmat said, yes, Dato', you will age, as pakmat has undoubtedly aged..and one day you will die..as pakmat will one day, dies..but you have proven that a local girl from a tin-mining town of Ipoh, can danced and kicked into internatonal stardom and be there with the rest of them..and to that, pakmat salutes you...

..I'll be all smiles tonight..

..an 1879 Irish waltz for a relaxing Friday..listening to it  reminds this old coot of the time he waltzes the night away as a bachelor in KL..



..and for some of you, enjoy your 'malam Jumaat'..:)  ..let's us all be all smiles tonight...

..the house where mother stayed..

..not all buildings are pulled down to make way for the new..some are left standing, unattended and forgotten..fading by inches and worn down by the rain and the sun ...corroding gently by gentle time that passes like the relentless flow of the river, where upon its banks it sits..

..no.833, Lorong Gajah Mati is such a house. a house sitting forlorn and alone, hidden by fences and undergrowth, ignored by its neighbours..and forgotten by me, who once stayed there.. it sat by the bank of  Kelantan River..facing death as death comes in stealthy steps..crumbling in little pieces, yet still holding onto memories of a time 40 over years ago..

..and as I stood there on Sunday afternoon, taking in the battered remnants of what was once a house, I was that sapling youth once more, coming back home to my mother..

..it was a house on stilts almost 7 feet high..she peered through her glasses and through the window where she was sewing when he first arrived, huffing and puffing a suitcase full of clothes and books..he rested at the stairs..after almost 20 years, her youngest son, Mamat returned..to a home which was not hers..but for the next couple of years, it was to be his home, too..

..now, 40 over years later, I stood there upon a Sunday afternoon..I saw her face through the window..and I saw mine clambering excitedly up the steps..

..she died 14 years ago..I stood there facing the stairs..and I heard her voice as I kick started my Vespa..

..'Mat...mu make doh ko ?..duk du moh getek gah...:'..as she pedalled on her Singer..Mat, have you eaten?.. can't you stay home once in a while ...as I rode away through the lane of Gajah Mati...

..an uncle died..

..an uncle died today..he was 77..born 3.3.33 and died 10.10.10..
as an adult I seldom meet him, busy with my own life, as it were....memories of him were confined to the time when I was a kid..the first time I went to his house was with my mother.. I was about nine or ten..it was also my first time to KL..as my mother was engrossed in a conversation with him., I was left on my own, playing around with a sewing machine set in a corner..I broke it and  had my ear pinched..

..I remember him as a simple man..on my own in KL, struggling as a clerk, I would sometimes visited him at his sprawling government quarters..once I caught him as he was going out..holding a pair of shoes, he was searching for something under the furniture..retrieved it, (it was a pair of socks), wiped his shoes with it, put it on and stride out whilst talking to me.."Ahh. Mat Ite..duklah..nak tubit semetar.."

"O Allah, forgive him, Lord. Make him among the guided ones, raise his status and be his deputy among the grieving. O Lord of the two worlds, forgive us and him and make his grave wide and full of light"

..MCP and firecraker..

..a lil bit of country for a lazy weekend..click on play..tap your feet..snap your fingers as you read the post below..




..and thank God for the differences..

..MCP, and thank God for the differences..

..you don't often hear the term 'male chauvinist pig' these days..it has receded into some distant past along with the belief that women are of lesser stuff as compared to men..we do not hear anymore about the fights for emancipation among women..women have never been disfranchised, as far as pakmat is concerned..they have always been my equal..and I never bear them grudges in their fight for equality..there is no reason why they should be paid less for doing the same job as men..or restrict some jobs to males only..if we can do it, and they can do it better, then let them in, by all means..

..and even in the days of women receiving better treatment because they are women, like that two days unrecorded leave for female constables in the police force when they had their menstruation, pakmat attributed it to the differences between a man and a woman..something that should be recognised and given due regard..

..the point I am trying make is this: we are equal but we are different..and the sooner we accept the differences, and  adjust our lives around them, the better for everyone..

..after several marriages, a couple of divorces and more than a dozen children, I have learned to take them in my stride..and arranged my life around it..it is less of a hassle..

...like..when taking my wife to a supermarket..she had to buy some underwear..hers were all worn..I would have completed the purchase in under fifteen minutes..

"Won't be long, love..just a jiffy."She said..and I would parked my car, irregardless,  walked to the food court, got the papers out and relaxed..two hours later she would walked out with 12 tins of evaporated milk, several bottles of sauce, bread, sugar, a new dress, a pair of slippers, batteries for those clocks hung around the house and a pair of shears for her gardening..(those batteries I have been meaning to buy for the past month, but not quite getting to it)..

..fifteen minutes later, as I was negotiating the traffic lights, she would tapped me gently on the shoulder and said that she had forgotten about the underwear..
"It's ok," I said, "We'll do it again next Friday." She'd smiled...and I would touched her cheeks...

..your first..

..it is generally believed that no one forgets their first..no matter what the first is..whether it is the first love, first kiss or your first divorce..there are other first that are just as unforgettable..things like first car, first accident..or first plane ride...for some there will never be a second after the first..and there are some who never had a first....but in every one's life, there will always be a first time..

..but for pakmat the first whatever came and went..some were blissful and cause of much happiness, like receiving my first pay as a clerk in the Public Services Commission, K. Lumpur way back in April, 1963....some were painful and cause of much regret..like losing a month's salary at a card game of twenty-one a few months later..which led to the last time I gambled..so some first became your last..

...and, of course, there is the first marriage..which led to second...and a third..you do not forget your first when you marry more than once..but you do not forget your subsequent marriages either..and the first divorce..which led to a second...and you do not forget them, too..

..but if I had not married at all, there will be no 13 children...which brings up an interesting question...who am I to deny them their first step on this earth?...

..susie darlin'..

..those days it is not enough that you know how to strum the guitar..you must also be able to sing the latest hits..from Robin Luke's Susie Darlin' to Cliff Richard's Evergreen Tree..

..pakmat managed by learning a few chords, mainly C, Am, F, F7 and G...and with that learned to improvise and sang Bobby Helms' Fraulein, my first exposure to country music...but for the song Susie Darling, it was the 'whoa-ho, Susie Darlin'..that got to me..a pause followed by vigorous strumming on the guitar..





..I think it was these two songs that started my never ending love for simple, sugary songs and country music..and the imagery that words can evoke..

..left foot, right foot and Mat Hitam..

..my left foot is bigger than my right..although it does not affect my walking, it makes it a bit difficult when buying shoes..most times I ended up buying a pair that fits my left but too big for my  right...but I bought them anyway for I need to wear shoes sometimes..

..speaking of shoes I remember the time when I was in Form 3 and was caught playing the piano in my neighbour's house instead of studying for my LCE..my uncle threw his shoe at me..it missed and I retrieved it and fearfully handed it back to him..I remember him sighing..'What's to become of you, Mat Hitam..?' ..yes, they called me Mat Hitam, then, being a shade darker than everybody else..a name that stuck among my many cousins, uncles and aunties..

..lately, circumstances brought me back to them.. cousins and distant cousins who were once play mates when we were kids half a century ago,  most are successful in their respective careers, with one or  two of them millionaires...they found themselves in need in Kota Bharu..they came back to reconnect with their past..and though they could not remember my full name, they remembered Mat Hitam..

..and I took them to Pantai Irama, Bachok..for some satay and grilled fish..oblivious to the motley night crowd, we were lost in our banter on times past, recalling mischiefs and pranks..none of our lives had turned out the way we would liked it to..I know they had expected better of me..but sometimes that night, we realised that whatever way our lives had turned out..it was the way it was meant to be..