Malaysian Night. Why my heart ached.

Last night, the annual Malaysian Night hosted by the Malaysian club MYSUN was held in a club in Newcastle City.

Alia reciting a poem about Independence

Despite my horrible appetite and ongoing tummy cramps, we made it through alright. There were lots of food, performances and what not all night. Overall, things were good.

However while sitting in the front table, trying to eat something to chase this gastro away (does that even work scientifically?), several things intrigued me.

Abang Mizan aka my Silat teacher. Cool or what?

Firstly, what the emcees called 'history classes'. While waiting for things to be set up, the emcees would sometimes state some historical facts about Malaysian independence. The recurrent theme that I managed to pick up was about colonisation, by one power after the next. Malaysia was colonized by the portugese, then the dutch and the brits and the japs.... Gee...I thought that was just heart breaking. That we were there telling some ten percent of the audience that our country was a ball in the air, punched and kicked and rolled around by people. True that was. It is historical fact, I shall not argue. But to me, listening to all that through the voices of the emcees whom have no choice but to state it cheerfully is just, again, heart breaking. And I asked myself, confused and wondering, where is the patriotism in that?

Apek on the band 'Tragic Affair'

Why dont we talk about the struggle for independence instead? To cherish people who have made it possible? To appreciate them and acknowledge the fact that what they did finally brought us free from the brits after hundreds of years of colonization of land and mind? And to state that the fight for independence was bloodless? So what was it that flowed from the veins of the Warriors of Malacca, Dato' Maharajalela, Tok Gajah, Tok Janggut and thousands more, be it Malay, Indian or Chinese when they were shot and stabbed by these colonizers? Are we trying to paint a politically beautiful, peaceful history at the cost of the honor of these men and women who gave their lives trying to protect the land that was dear to them? Is this the way we honour our forefathers?

Maybe a great thing to do is to get to know these patriots personally, to know what makes them the patriots they were, what gave them the strength to make the ultimate sacrifice for their country and learn from them.     

Awesome performance! 

Secondly, to the agreement of some of my collegues, none of them Malay and one of them not a Malaysian, some of the performances weren't really Malaysian culture at all. The girls doing the chinese dance actually said its not chinese (to which i think i understand), rather it was just a fan (like chinese fans) dance. And again, it gets me thinking, if the objective of Malaysian night is to showcase malaysian culture, are some of these things that we do correlate well with what we say? What is the point in this then? I'm not criticizing my friends who put in a lot of effort into their performances, i mean, what they did were great! Especially the Indian dance, but I would like to enjoin us to think about what we do. And learn.

What we do, must be consistent with what we say. Especially when we are representing a whole lot of people to the world. If we want to celebrate independence, to celebrate diversity in a multicultural land, we should then talk about independence, about revolutions, about lessons we can learn from being colonized, about what its like to live in racial and religious harmony and how Australia can learn from what we do back home. Yes, many people want to see dances, many people want to cheer and laugh and have a good time, but is that what our independence and our culture is all about? Dancing? Singing songs that dont even potray our independence and multiculturalism and showing fighting moves? Are we that shallow of a people? Is this shallowness what we, a percentage of the most well educated people from the country are proud about?

Hiyak hiyak hiyak!!!

Think, people, think! You are intelligent people.

Why dont we have a deeper Malaysian night next time? One thats about revolutions. Revolution of mind, of language, of culture, of religious tolerance, of harmony, of economics, of science. We don't have to abandon the great performances, but we can certainly educate ourselves more and other people about the greatness of Malaysia. Lets do a play, about aspirations of young Malaysians, of how we want the future to be, of how we want to be liberated from the clutches of negative foreign influences, of how we want to, together build a better Malaysia for all. Integrated, harmonized, peaceful, understanding.

I'd risk sounding ideal and unreal, but isnt this what we want? Isnt this patriotism? Isnt this what we mean when we say we love our country? 

We should love Malaysia as much as Aryzz loves to put the Malaysian flag into his mouth!

Salam perpaduan, salam cinta Malaysia!
Azfar 

Credits to Ahmad Syafiq Akbar Ali, the photographer who allowed me to post these photos up. To see more of his work, go http://www.facebook.com/ahmadsyafiq . Thank you bro! This is my most colourful post ever!

Syeikh Navaid Aziz on Welcoming You to His Paradise

Just a quick post of a hand held, dodgy looking video (excellent audio quality though) of a quite popular speaker from Canada. My friends and I saw him on a tour last month, after a split second decision to go to Sydney that night to catch this guy, Boona Mohamed (popular for spoken word) and Baba Ali (stand up comedian) all together in 'the Strangers Tour'.


During his talk he said that, maybe, many of us dont work so hard to attain paradise because we stopped contemplating about it. And so he said sometimes, when life gets too tough, he'd like to escape into his future paradise for respite and renewal of his energy. So have a listen, and let your imagination run wild...!

Owh I just realized that this video didnt go further into the gates of his paradise. Well from what i can remember, there was talks of chocolate rivers, chocolate boat, fish waiting to be caught and a mild sun that always shines to the best, moderate temperatures...literally soaking it in....Aaahhh.... But that is his paradise.

The question is: How's your paradise going to be like?

Best regards
Azfar

On Paying Fifty Cents for a Plot of Land, an Architect and a Lawyer

He asked "can we do some service for the local people? Like web classes or something?"... and I went " What??? Why the hhh….heavens would we have to do that for them? We don't owe them anything. We bought that piece of land, we are paying for the mosque ourselves. We don’t owe them anything for us to have to 'make up' for building a mosque there".

A man asked the question to the solicitor who stood in front of the prayer crowd tonight  and said, in his Australian accent, thick as hookah smoke, that he was happy with the way things are going with the plans for the new mosque in Elermore Vale, Newcastle.

An artist impression of the upcoming mosque in Elermore Vale..uuu..whose car is that?

As the people in Newcastle may have heard or got to know, the muslim community of Newcastle is raising funds to build a new mosque to accommodate the increasing number of muslims residing here. The new mosque was proposed to be built in a suburb called Elermore Vale. The plot of land was bought several months ago and now, the last steps before a new shiny mosque is getting approval from the city council, and getting enough funds to reach a total target of AUD1.4million.

Since 2 years ago, the mosque committee has tried every single day to raise funds for the mosque. The evidence is clear, every Friday, there will be a man standing in front of the doors of the Masonic Hall that has been rented for several years now for the Friday prayers asking for donations "Sedeqah for the masjid *ching ching ching (sound of coins rattling)*. Sedeqah for the masjid *ching ching ching*. The Prophet told us that whosoever builds a mosque, Allah will build a house for him in Jannah (Paradise)!!!".

That's what he did, that man, every Friday. And the sound of his donation box will always stick in my memory, the sound of a thin layer of coins rattling in a big, hopeful box.

I'm not writing this so people would feel guilty about not giving a lot for to the mosque even when we use the mosque every day, every Friday, every Iftar,  every  Community Iftar, or every Eid, for free since the last 10 years, or since only recently.

I'm writing to share a feeling that I noticed while I said those words up there to a friend sitting beside me in the prayer hall.

"WE bought that piece of land, WE are paying for the mosque OURSELVES. WE don’t owe them anything for US to have to 'make up' for building a mosque there".

I don’t claim to have given much for the new mosque, but I feel… very connected to it. I feel that my occasional 50cents or 5 dollars were used when the committee bought the piece of land, or paid the architect or the solicitor. I feel that I have contributed to this mosque and I feel that I have a right to call the mosque mine…or ours. And for that, I love the new mosque, even when there's no rock solid guarantee that its going to be built. I love it and I want it, because I paid for it. I deserve to have it. Nuff said...

For those reading this and know of the situation, I implore you to  feel the same as I am. You should feel that YOU ARE contributing to this mosque, you should feel that you have ownership over the mosque, you should feel that the mosque is yours, or ours. Because it is.

You have given what is needed for this new mosque. It may have been AUD5, or AUD10, or AUD100, or your effort to telling people about this cause. You are in this as much as I am, or that man who asked for donations every Friday, or the Imam of the mosque. This masjid is going to be yours! In 10 years time when you decide to come around to visit Newcastle and bring your kids for a drive around , you should feel proud showing them that mosque because you helped to build that mosque. The mosque is there, because you took part in funding it.

 And it will be a place where thousands of people do good deeds, everyday. It will be a place where people will find faith, or regain fading faith, or learn about the Quran and Islam, or meet each other and spread goodness and truth. And it will be possible because of you.

So thank you all Novocastrians, for your being here will leave a mark of peace, good and faith for a very, very long time to come.

Yay we're getting a new mosque!

Azfar    

"Whosoever shares in building a masjid for Allah, even if it is as small as a bird’s nest, Allah (S.W.T.) will build for him a house in Paradise."  (Prophet Muhammad pbuh)

On "dear blade of Gryffindor...can you just magically appear in front of Harry?"

"And We strengthened their hearts with patience, when they stood up and said: Our Lord is the Lord of the heavens and the earth; we will by no means call upon any god besides Him, for then indeed we should have said and extravagant thing" (Al Kahf, 14)

I was talking about this in a discussion lately with some of my friends. Something I got from an article in SuhaibWebb. The article was mainly about Ramadhan, and slipped somewhere in the middle of the article, full of wisdom and faith is a verse from the Quran (the one in yellow up there). The verses prior to this one and the ones to come tell the story of a group of young men who had to run from their community and go into hiding in a cave in order to protect their lives. Why they had to run away you ask? It was because they carried with them a message of faith, which contradicted the belief system of the community and the governing entity. So confronting was their message, that they had to flee from their own people. Can you imagine how big that is?

Well what I'm interested in writing about today isn't really about the message they were bringing. Though I must admit that trying to elaborate on that message would be quite an effort and the little knowledge that I have would definitely do it injustice, and thus I won't be too brave to attempt that now.

I'd rather talk about that verse, which is interesting in itself. If we look closely into the words, we will find that Allah mentioned that He strengthened their hearts when they stood up and said... . WHEN they stood up. God sent them help, in the form of strengthening their hearts with patience when they have taken the initial step towards their goal. However hard to achieve and far away their goal was. There is a lesson to be learnt from this, a lesson that we can all practice in life.

Too many a time that I prayed and I prayed to God to make things easier for me, to show me the right way, to guide me to the right path in life, to make medicine easier to study, to make someone easier to approach, to make words flow easier from my lips. And as many of a time did I forget to or simply just didn't take any actions towards what I asked God for. And thinking about the soul of this verse, we should realize that God's help isn't far away from us, but in order to attain His help, we need to prove our commitment towards what we want. We need to take action and prove that we really want that something, and when we have taken the steps, InsyaAllah, God Willing, help will come. Like a patronum that showed Harry where the blade was, help will come.

It may be in the form of making our hearts believe even more, or some physical entity from anywhere at all, or a call from someone special. Or it may even be stumbling upon an article that'll help you believe in the path you have taken. Whatever form that it takes, it'll come when you have taken the effort, to carve what you want onto stone. Because if you write it in sand, making just some small strokes with your fingers, even the smallest breeze of an autumn day can ruin it.

So whatever it is that you want, remember to take steps towards it. Because life isn't that easy to have everything fall into place just because we want it to.

Trying to practice what I preach
Azfar

On how tall, built, macho and handsome I am

I get angry at people who make fun of others excessively. Partly because I've been laughingstock....or to put it in a lighter way,a joke by many, all my life. And partly because I've seen what making fun of others can do to a person.
Spare the constant self embarrassing stunts  I usually get myself in, I've always been made fun of by people. Mostly its because of my physical attributes. I'm short, small, dark, hairy, big nosed...you name it.
When I was a child I got very disturbed by all these remarks people make, sometimes not even meaning to offend, sometimes just a statement of the truth, of what appears to them in physicality. So disturbed was I that I sometimes get to a stage of not really liking myself, and blaming someone for what I was.
But not too far into teenage-hood that I finally stopped being disturbed by comments people make, because I started to accept what was given to my by God. It doesn't mean that I stopped wishing that I was a wee bit taller or that I was a bit bigger (there's the gym for that anyways) but I started to accept things that I was born with. Namely the phenotypes of my genes, things I've had no choice in. And since I started to accept what I was, responding to comments got a bit harder. I just don't know how to respond, for I see no problems with people making those jokes about me.

So yeah, the whole text up there was just to say, hey guys! I don't really mind whatever you guys say about me. I'm fine with it.  In saying that though, I for one do not condone making fun of other people's physical attributes.

For making fun of others doesn't necessarily reflect them, rather it reflects us.

Make me laugh
Azfar

p.s.: excuse the rant, I have no idea what to put in the blog so there goes. And yes, the picture up there is how I look like in actual reality =P.

On Climbing Over Walls and Calling Out to Him

To every one of you who has only recently been tested.

I hope that you do not see this test as a great impenetrable wall that stops light coming through. I pray that each and every one of you will find grappling hooks and ropes to help you climb over this wall, or great steel hammers to help you smash through. If ever you feel that you need a friend to boost you up, remember that many are around, right now probably a bit afraid to help you out for fears of your reactions, but always ready to lend you a hand or two for you to use, if not to provide a place to step on, to pass you a handkerchief.

Maybe He misses your voice calling out to Him? For you should know that God tests those whom He knows can endure it, those whom He loves.

Cry all you want, if you find comfort in it, for there its no shame in crying, but may all those tears turn into beads of spirit to strengthen your heart and soul. Rest and take a look back at the journey, in the spirit of learning and humility. May standing from afar lets you see the whole mountain with its cracks and crevices and helps you take a better way up next time.

Finally, lets all remember these verses in the Quran:
"So, verily, with every difficulty, there is relief;
Verily with every difficulty there its relief;
Therefore, when you have finished (your occupation), devote yourself for Allah's worship;
And to your Lord, turn all your intentions and hopes"
(5-8:94, Al-Quran)

On A Bus-hopper Who Made a Doctor

Once when I was seventeen, I spent two weeks in a hospital in Penang for an attachment to the ED. The experience in the hospital was rather humdrum, apart from the daily motor vehicle accidents resulting in masses of brain injury cases and orthopaedic referrals.

However, an interesting event happened to me when I was about to go back home to Shah Alam. It was a Friday afternoon; my uncle took the day off to get me to the bus station. After the Friday prayers and some grub, it was time for farewells.

I then hopped on the bus, to several quiet heads, minding their own businesses while waiting for the bus to depart. I took my seat and pulled out a book and was about to start reading when I heard the voices of children outside of the bus. And before I knew it, I saw the driver open the bus door and in came a sudden gush of small, repetitive voices.

I tilted my head to the right, and saw small children, two girls and a boy. The girls wore head scarfs, just tiny triangular pieces of soft cloth wrapped around their heads with a knot under their chins. And in what seemed to be hand down clothes, the girls wore baju kurung, and the boy was in a tshirt and shorts.

The children without any hesitation then started to approach everyone in the bus, going to them one by one, asking for money. "Seringgit, seringgit...." I remember them say. Being the person to avoid uncomfortable situations, I decided to pretend to be all too absorbed in my reading, so when the children came to me they would see that I was reading and won't bother asking from me.

But oh boy, how wrong was I. I heard their voices came closer and closer, until, from the corner of my eye I saw a tiny figure standing beside me, repeating the words "seringgit...seringgit....". I chose to continue reading with the child standing beside me until, I guess, I couldn't avoid it any longer. These kids are professionals, really, did I really think that they haven't seen a person doing this before? 

She had a dark complexion, looks nothing like a Malay or and Indian, a mix probably. By her size, I would say she was 7 or 8 at the time. Wearing a red head scarf and with her tiny voice and a hand forming a cup, she stood there, eyes full of disinterest, repeating "seringgit...seringgit...". She was by herself, the other two had gone further along the bus aisle.

Did I have any money to spare for her at the time? I probably did, she probably wouldn't expect much either. Did I want to give her any money? No. I wasn't about to give my money to some kid who decided to hop on busses and beg. They're probably making heaps everyday doing this.

And so, not wanting to give any money, I offered her a question instead. With  a smile, I asked "what is your name?" (NB that the following conversations occurred in the Malay language, with me trying to do the Penang slang) . The child stopped uttering her begging chant, and looking slightly embarrassed, she told me her name. What her name was, I couldn't remember, I couldn't even work it out at that time, it didn't sound Malaysian. I then continued to ask her "have you had lunch yet?" - "no, we eat once we go home" , "how did you come here" - " we came by bus numbered *something something*", "where do you live?"-  "somewhere else, we take a bus to get here in the morning. My home is in Myanmar", "where's mum and dad?"- "I dunno... maybe in Myanmar".      

I then asked her more questions, just to engage with her and be nice, I guess. Without me noticing though, the other two children were done begging in the bus, and so now they stood on each side of the girl, listening to the conversation. Noticing them now, I tried asking the other girl, an older one it seemed, probably ten or eleven, the same questions. She smiled a bit, and then, in what seemed like a flash, snatched my book from my hands, dangled it above my head, all the while asking for money. That caught me by surprise. "Owh great, feral immigrant children harassing people on busses! What's happening to this world??"

I was then still adamant on not giving out any money to these children and I tried to take the book back from her while sparing a bit of dignity for myself by not acting too roughly, to no avail. Now it really, really seemed like I had no choice but to hand them some spare change as ransom for my photocopied book. But before I could fish my wallet out, the small girl, coming from the back of her elder friend snatched the book from the older girl and handed the book back to me, with a shy smile that could've melted a butter truck beside the bus. I thanked her.

And ever so suddenly, the bus engine started, the bus now looked less empty than it did several minutes ago and it looks like we were about to make a move. The kids, as if hearing an angry voice calling out for them for dinner, took the cue and went out. And the bus, with the engine running, suddenly felt so quiet. I didn't see them again, but I thought I saw a glimpse of a red scarf heading to another bus nearby.

After they left, I felt a sadness within me, and a feeling of utmost gratification for what I have. I felt sad for that girl who was brought into a foreign country, given barely enough to live, and forced to spend her days asking people for money which she will, at the end of the day, give to some syndicate of people smugglers. Not knowing where her parents are, not knowing the possibilities of a good future, not given a chance to an education. What does the future hold for her?

I saw during the moments of our short conversation how she, for that moment in time stopped being a beggar and became a child. I saw in her that that opportunity doesn't come often and I saw how much she appreciated me asking her those questions, to let her, just very briefly, be a child. And I thought about how many children in this world who are denied their rights to be children, to have to grow up and survive on their own so soon. My head would've just exploded. Too big a problem for me to solve. But even if I didn't find the solution to global poverty and hunger, this has been one of the events that further enforced my decision to become a doctor in the future. That with God's help, and the knowledge, I can one day help children like her in some way live a better life. 

Little child, I pray, wherever you are right now, that you are always blessed by God and that you are happy. For I don't know if I would ever smile like you if I was put under your circumstances. And even if you will never read or know of this, I want to thank you, on behalf of myself and potentially many more.

For that day when you smiled, you gave birth to a doctor.

Yours
Azfar