...once I am dead..

..at 67 you learned to control your anger...even if giving vent to it is easier..and you learned to accept those things that make you unhappy...and accept things you cannot control...like death, for instance...its there, just around the corner, peeking through the window...even if you try not to think about it...it still has this habit of hitting you at odd moments when you least thought about it.. .a prankster with a pail of water waiting to douse you with it, hiding behind a bush or door...

...like this morning, when the missus mentioned on the way to her salon, that the water pump was not working...it was giving a protesting sound, she said...it was, when I checked later..diagnosis was fast...experience told me that the motor was not turning...its spindle must be stuck with some sand...playing around with a screwdriver released the motor and it went its way merrily along...and I took the opportunity to clean the ground tank whilst at it...and it was then that it hit me...who's to do this once I dead and gone?...she would be stuck with no water supply for days before Mr. Bee, the local village wiz with pumps, could find the time to come...

...as in most marriages, after a while, the husband became Mr. Fixit...he was the one to turn to once the home system broke down...he unstuck the sink, changed the bulbs ( she has not changed a light bulb her entire life)  and thumped the tv when its not working...along with paying the bills...but husbands die...and, generally, statistically, husbands, being men, die first...

..so, starting tomorrow, pakmat is going to teach her how to work around water pumps...and maybe, how to change light bulbs later...



..

..a place too far...

..God planted the seeds of remembrance to all those who made the pilgrimage to Makkah...and those seeds sprouted and flowered in some corner of our hearts...wafting longings in every veins and spores for a time when we can go back and once again prostrate on the shining, marble floors of Haram...

..tawaf from the roof of Haram..

..Lord, You are the Most Compassionate and the Most Loving....and I am asking too much...

..afiq. his papa and his spray..

....as I helped Afiq set up his workshop, I came to realise that I did not really know my son...he is my wife's first, and my second..although we grow up together, me into old age and him into adulthood, there are certain things about him that I was to only later discover...he is not as gregarious as his father, of course...or open...rather, he is quiet, almost broody..and there is a certain stubbornness in him which, earlier when he was grappling with early adulthood, I mistook for being wishy-washy...

...a few years back, I remember thinking that this is one son who has to work hard for his money...being paid 50 dollars per week was usual for him...but I refrained from commenting, thinking, rightly, that he was working on honing his skills..but he is one son who is of not much trouble to his mother or me..

..there must have been a time when he had had enough of grounding, polishing and sprayin... and receiving pittance... for apprentices are seldom handsomely paid...even though I raised my eyebrows when he took up job in a factory making diapers, I kept my peace and supported him....it is a highly competitive world he found himself in, and as in the animal world, survival is always of the fittest...

..meantime, we, her mother and I, both worried and prayed for him, most times triggered after reading Harian Metro...it is easy to succumb in the city of neon lights..where DGA, drugs, gals and alcohol are abound...and so, one day when he turned up at the door in Bachok, looking a bit pale and very much gaunt,  and said he had had enough of the big city, we were glad...and like all mothers everywhere, she fawned over him and fed him...

..Afiq working on a car...

..they say a father looked into their children to realise their own failed dreams...maybe so...but pakmat never had any dreams, being the vagabond, drifter and scoundrel that he was...but two weeks later after the opening, seeing Afiq working on cars sent in by friends of pakmat, sensing the pride in him on working on his own, being his own boss, as it were, pakmat rued his youth...those drifting without purpose days where life was on a song and a dance...and he was glad...that Afiq did not turned out to be like him...

..afiq spray...

....not all children turned out the way their parents want them to be...of course, we would want them to be doctors, engineers and rocket scientists, at the very least, being straight-A's students that they are...but not all children are inclined academically...as my son Afiq, 25,  proved out to be...

...attaining sometimes below average results in school prompted pakmat, upon completing his spm,  to enrol him into Institiut Kemahiran Belia Negara, Chembong, Negeri Sembilan for a course in car spraying...where for some years he submerged himself  into the trade, and, in the process, developed a flair and a love for it...but on attaining Level 3, he quit...Level 4 would see him with a diploma..

"I cannot do it, papa...too much writing...paper submissions, written assignments...and I am not good at that..'

..and I said ok...Level 3 it is, now go out and learn your trade...and for the next four years it was some spray workshops or other..from Bachok to Shah Alam...plus stints as Mat Kilang at a factory producing diapers, and even as a waiter a Sudara Resort, Tok Bali.... ...what he earned  was barely enough for him to survive..but he learned to be hardy and resourceful...he learned the value of money...of friendship...and at Sudara Resort, Tok Bali, he met his belle...and learned the responsibilities of a relationship...

...maybe it was her, I do not know...he was not the youth pakmat once was...but sometimes later, he came to me and said that he was ready to start out on his own...and again this father said ok...and with the help of his mother, helped set him up...

..and later, as I helped  hang his banner, I could not help but felt a tinge of pride...no, there was no fanfare...no vvip present...just an old coot and a few friends...but that evening, we helped launched Afiq along his way...its too late for this coot to dream...but for Afiq it was the beginning...go, son...and may Allah be with you...there are many doors to His Bounty...may He opens them for you...InsyaAllah...

..medina al munawarah...city of radiance and peace...

...there is something about Medina that enthralls...its spanking clean boulevards and streets, shining cars and polite drivers...its tingling air... Nabawi Mosque...and Prophet Muhammad PBUH....

...and as pakmat put his foot down upon the shining boulevard, he realised that within this earth, cradled a someone upon whom he had testified for as long as his memory took him.....that there is no God but Allah and Muhammad is His Prophet...he felt awed...and he was humbled....

..even earlier, after a few hours on the bus...after taking in the bleak scenery of hot sand, black boulders and naked mountain ranges...he rose from his seat, peered through the window....no....no ordinary man can do it...no ordinary mortal...he took 8 days of travelling in the nights...on a flight from Makkah....enemies close upon his heels...on the back of camels...and here we were, in an air conditioned coach...feeling weary after a few hours...can we ever be worthy, Lord?...

.after the soul-searing of Makkah, the breathlessness and the tears in front of the Kaabah, the lessons of Arafat and Mina, the single-mindedness of the tawaf and saie, Medinah was a contrast...

..it was almost a relief....and that first night upon arrival, he rushed through the simple procedure of checking-in..got the electronic doorkey, a quick shower and change and off to Nabawi...and met head-on the congregation who had ended their Isyak prayers and was on their way out...he struggled to get it, but once inside the crowd thinned...

..

....peace be upon you, O mightiest of all Prophets.....pakmat bid thee greetings...salam, O the One who is Illiterate...I hereby testify that there is no deity, no god but Allah...and you are indeed, His Prophet...May the Lord keeps you with Blessings, until the Final Day...grant me, Lord, a moment, that we shall meet....

..missing someone...

.we never really left the Holy Land, my wife and I....after more than two months from the day of our return, we were still there...sometimes alone together at home, little things trigger off our memory...a touch, a prayer, Zam Zam water...and we were back in MasjidilHaram...the fragrance of a memory that lingers...oft times we wished we were back there...taking that brisk walk to Haram in the early hours before dawn...amid the constant din of cars honking...the crowd of purposeful pilgrims...the smell and the dust...we missed Misfalah...we missed the constant call,' Hajji...Hajji..Hajji...


....most of all we missed the Kaabah....

..back to Makkah..

..we came back from Mina much relieved and with a measure of freedom...no more bounded to wearing ihram, we were back to robes and kopiah....but we have not yet cleared the final hurdle of the haj, the tawaf and the saai....

.it was a much cleaner Makkah that we came back to...the authorities used our absence to clean up the city off the rubbish and litters left by us...water tank were replenished...over flowing septic tanks were flushed of scum and sludge....the squares were washed and swept clean...even the air smelt clean...

..pakmat felt invigorated...the time in Arafat and Mina recharged him...he could see that the missus felt the same way, too...the next day, after the tawaf and the saai, and thereon the final tahallul,  he kissed her on the forehead..congratulations, makhajji...may the Lord accepts our haj...insyaAllah....

..water tanks being replenished..

....signs of overflowing septic tanks..

..now for the umrah....which we both did with gusto...woke up before dawn, a quick bath and the donning of the ihram...out of the hotel onto the main road...haggled with the cabdrivers...anything from 10 to 15 rial per head and off to Tanaim Mosque, the choice miqat of the day...2 rakaat solat..the niat and off to Haram for dawn prayers...most times led by Imam Sheik Abdul Rahman Al Sudais, the man with golden voice...later the tawaf and the saai..a brief cutting of hair...and a leisurely 2km walk back to the maktab for breakfast of roti and hot coffee served by Ahmad....

..
Ahmad from India manning his eatery..

                                   

..miqat at Tanaim Mosque..

but for some, it was time for packing and heading for home...but for us of KT49, it was awaiting the day when we would be heading for Medina...and the Prophet...

..the stoning..

..Mina was from where we trekked to the Jamrah for the stoning ritual, through the Muasim Tunnel, which is 2.6 kilometers long...from our tent, it was about 800 meters to the entrance...from the exit, it was another kilometer to the Jamrah.... and so, in all we walked 10 kilometers each day to the Jamrah...

..but it was not as daunting as it sounds...the crowd, and the singleminded of purpose made light the trek...

..the plains of Arafat have prepared us for Mina...but to my mind, it was our prayer upon touchdown in Jeddah when we first arrived....that we came as Your guests, Lord...and we did not expect for much...eat whatever is served and rest at whatever places shown to us...

...as for pakmat, for my resilience and patience, I was rewarded with a sitting bowl on the last day...and I thought that all toilets were the squatting type..which was a bit difficult for this old coot, lacking balancing skills somewhat in his old age...on the last day, I entered the last toilet on the right..and there it sat...a beauty of a sitting bowl...gleaming white...ahh...thank you, Lord, for Your little Mercies...

..an open letter to thirteen..

..reading lc's blog must have got to me...lc is fond of writing open letters in his blog, which you can access here...but his concerns will always be about sports, being the conscientious sports critic that he is... and I just have to response to anonymous', thirteen,  comment, being the conscientious blogger that I am...so here goes..

..salam thirteen...I think, to get a single person who is without sin to throw the first stone is nigh impossible...for we  are all sinners, one way or the other..and God, in His Greatness, knows all the weaknesses of Man, His creation, in that we will sinned.....and He created Purgatory, to my mind, not for sinners...but for those who committed sins knowingly or unknowingly but do not repent...


..pakmat looked at the Haj as an opportunity for us who sinned, to repent and be close to Him...so, thirteen, make the trip...regret, they say, is the first step towards repentance...dwell upon your regrets...wake up the last quarter of the night and do the night solats...think well of Him...insyaAllah...for He is the Most Compassionate and the Most Loving...

..Mina, and the mean side of the haj...

..by the time we reached Mina after Muzdalifah, it was almost dawn...we found our tent soon enough, H 14...and it became apparent when most of our tent members showed up, that there was just not enough room for all of us...it was too tight a squeeze...for a moment,  nerves frayed...a momentary furore amid all the suggestions, and pakmat was promptly elected penghulu...when you are slight of built but big of voice, you will be easily noticed.....in our disagreement, we agreed to push the canvas walls and lined them with our baggages...and slept like sardines - criss-crossed...a really closed-knit group, I thought..

...its easier to interact with the forced proximity...and I soon learnt that on the day my roommate died, a lady pilgrim died a day earlier..and her husband was that quiet man who would sometimes sat alone outside the tent, pullling upon a cigarette...and I commented in my heart for his smoking ways...I did not know he was suffering his wife's loss...but later, when I got to know him better, also named Pak Mat, I extended my hand and asked for his and His forgiveness...please forgive my erring thoughts...

..Pak Mat, pulling upon a cigarette..

...one night we had a tahlil for the late Tokwan and Pak Mat's late wife...halfway I could see tears welling in his eyes, as he tried to follow the tahlil...couldn't....walked to outside the tent...and sat alone by himself as we continued...there is no God but Allah...there is no God but Allah..there is no God but Allah..there is no God but Allah..

..there was also not enough toilets...they were built on the septic-tanks and you walked up five steps to get to the door, that is after you queued up for anything from ten to fifteen minutes...but the ladies were worse-off...their queues were longer, along with their time waiting...which sometimes resulted in some cutting in into the men's queue...and some males protested, with the husband coming to the defence of the wife with a show of fists...which led to brief fisticuffs..

..for some there was little of that virtue called patience...they just could not wait or made adjustments...so it was into these bottles...and pakmat took in the sight and the stench one morning, marvelling at the various shades of yellow  and the bottles lining the walls...

..waiting for the bus back to Makkah..

..the orbs of Muzdalifah and beyond..

..Pic 1..Haram..taken by Nik Faris with his budget digital camera..

....I really do not know what they were...the first time I was shown them was by a young 'tahfiz,' Nik Faris,  who was there with his mother...he had taken some shots around Makkah and Muzdalifah with his budget digital camera...thinking that there was some defects in his camera...he had shown it to his mother.. and later, to me as we get to know each other better....but by then, we were well on our way to Madinah...

Pic 2....Muzdalifah...taken with the same camera..

..I thought they were caused by dust particles..it was very dusty around the holy city of Makkah..but as I searched the web for reports of similar orbs when back in Malaysia, it became evident that such orbs caught on digital camera was a common occurrence... I came across a Dr  Klaus Heinemann...and article on him can be read here...

..Pic 3...Nabawi Mosque, Medinah....taken with Sony Ericsson
Xperia  with flash..

...in Madinah, we tried again taking night shots around Nabawi Mosque, this time with a Sony Ericsson Xperia smartphone...with flash on manual  we took pic 3 and pic 4...we marveled at the orbs..not able to explain it but not totally dismissing them either...

Pic 4...pic taken a few seconds later by pakmat...

..pakmat even took a shot of a roommate, Haji Rasit, as he was reading the Quran in our hotel room, and got this picture of him with  a small orb seemingly floating next to him...Pic 5..

Pic 5...shot taken by pakmat in our hotel room,
Al-Haram, Medina..

..Pic 6...the sky over Nabawi..pic taken by Pakmat..

..intrigue, pakmat searched the web for other images...and found the following pictures...all with orbs in them...there were no mention of it by the owners...perhaps they dismissed them as just a quirky display of light...

..Pic 7...pakmat searched the web and found this picture..
..MasjidilHaram..

..Pic 8...and this...

...Pic 9..and this of Nabawi..

..Pic 10..and this...

..Pic 11 .pic taken by wife with pakmat's handphone, HTC Aria..
..no flash...no orbs..

..Pic 12...taken by pakmat with HTC Aria...no flash..no orbs..

..that I have created jinns and men that they may served Me...surah Az Zariyat