Rentakini's Interview with Syed Husin Ali

In the latest interview in the 'Anything but Politics' series, Rentakini meets with Dr Syed Husin Ali, the veteran politician's veteran.

Read it here. (No subscritption)

I would rather be sleeping

It's 4-ish in Melbourne, the Sun at just the right angle for a warm and cozy afternoon nap. The boys are out for football, and the house is silent save for the dryer's whir. A nap at this moment of time would be soooo beautiful but I must resist the urge. I need all the sleep for tonight. I don't want to spend the entire flight tomorrow sleeping only to land in KL refreshed at rested at 10.00 pm.

Yes I go to bed early. I'm a good boy.

So let's blog.

Sindrom Kaki Kental

As proof that I still think in Malay, the subtitle of today's blog is in Malay, roughly translated as Hard Leg Syndrome.

Not a real disease but rather one that strikes newcomers to Melbourne rather suddenly, particularly if they have been too used to the use of only one leg (the one depressing the accelerator) where they originally came from.

I have had the good fortune these past two weeks of having visitors from Malaysia who visited me in my humble dwelling, far away here in North Melbourne. In remembrance of their visit, I offer this semi-fictionalised travelogue of a visitor to Melbourne.


Day 1

Finally arrived in Melbourne after 8 long hours in the plane, surrounded by boorish passengers and inattentive attendants. From the plane window, I see that is already dark outside. Not much of a surprise there, since the clock on the display in front of me says the local time is 8.30pm. I wonder if Lutfi has already had dinner. I wonder what do they eat here in Australia. Steaks? Kangaroo meat? Can't wait for my first Australian meal. Yum Yum!

2 hours later

I have never felt as humiliated. Who do these customs people think I am? A runner for Al-Qaeda? Imagine all that fuss over a bottle of Kicap Manis Cap Kipas Udang? What did they think I am going to do with that? Condiment the Parliament house to its destruction? What nonsense!

Apparently Lutfi can't meet me at the airport tonight. He said something about having an exam tomorrow. It's ok, I suppose. After all, he's already given me directions to his house. Now all I need to do is to find that Sky Bus platform.

1 hour 45 minutes later

Why don't the trams announce the stops here in Melbourne? Did they think everyone has complete knowledge of Melbourne at their fingertips? Its a good thing I met that old English guy. He was the one who told me where to get off, and which tram I was supposed to be on.

Anyway, I'm already at Lutfi's place, and it's a studio flat. With no rooms. There's only one single bed in the room/house, but I see some sleeping bags lying about. I wonder if he wants us to sleep in those things.

This is really not how I expected this vacation to start. Hmm.

Oh, and do you know what we had for dinner? Telur bungkus. With rice.

Tomorrow perhaps.

Day 2

It's been one long day. This is starting to look like one tiring holiday. Turns out that Lutfi doesn't have a car, and he does all his travelling on foot. And that is how we went about Melbourne. On foot.

My feet are sore from the hours of walking. I don't think I've walked this much since ... ever. How I miss my car.

But we did cover a lot of ground today, sightseeing in the 'CBD', the museums, waterfront etc.
I would've have forced in some shopping but by the time we were walking back from the docklands all the shops were already closed. At 6.00 pm. Some 'vibrant' city.

Oh and do you know what we had for dinner just now? Mee Goreng with Sambal on the side.

Sigh.


Day 3

I honestly have no idea what this trip is turning out to be. I've just returned from a kuliah in a mosque in one of the suburbs. Now who goes to a ceramah during their holiday? I better have a word with Lutfi before he starts going all preachy on us.

Otherwise, it was interesting meeting all the locals there. Kaki masjids who wear winter coats and sporting Aussie accents. And plenty of pizzas after the ceramah. Lutfi says that's what the locals like to eat. Erm, I sure hope that that's not the end of my association with native Australians. I mean, this is so far removed from Bondi Beach.

Did I mention, we had pizza? Boxes and boxes of them, brother. Ma sha allah.

*******************************************************************

Day 10

Phew, It's been sometime since I've put down anything in this travelogue. All this travelling business wears me out. And all the eating. Allahuakbar. It's like a kenduri everyday. Rendang, Bihun, Kari, Spaghetti (!), Pizza, Kebab. I will seriously need to diet once I get back to KL.

And do you know where I've been this past few days?
I was blowing didgeridoos in the market (and parted with $95 as a result). I visited an Islamic school in one of the outer suburbs, just because we thought it would be 'enlightening' to do so. I was live on air at a local radio station, reading news, "Ringkasan Berita Sukan Dari Tanahair", not once but twice. I chatted with KL old-timers who recounted the days when gangs ruled KL, and met with 'mozzies' who I would want to meet again ;P.

My legs too are so hard now from all the walking, that a 3 hour trek feels like nothing. I can now walk round the city for hours without feeling too out of breath. Not very Australian yet, but getting there.

Also it turns out that sleeping bags are very comfortable to be in all day long in winter. I wonder if mom would let me wear one in Malaysia.

Gotta sleep now. Having a barbie tomorrow. I'm in charge of the sidedishes, so must wake up early.


Day 14

Alas, the time has come to leave Melbourne.

It turns out, Lutfi didn't forget that we were tourists. Finally he indulged us in touristy stuff. That is a trip to the mountains and to the beaches and to the islands. Saw kangaroos, koalas that sort of thing. Interesting, but so very normal for a tourist.

I wished that we could do more of the odd stuff. More of the real things real people do in Melbourne. Met more people. Visited more houses. Window-shopped more. Ate more food. Seriously, I think I've gained at least 5kgs since arriving. But it's all good alhamdulillah. All that malay,turkish, lebanese, hyderabadi cuisine was really a break from all the junk food I usually feed on.

Sadly its time to leave. Two weeks have come and gone. And as the plane takes off and landscape starts to shrink, I think back to all the memories I take home with me. Who knew Melbourne could be that interesting?

So will I come again? Insha allah, brother. In sha allah.


End

hmmm, this looks familiar...

Seating plan for the sounds of light concert to be held at the Vodafone Arena Melbourne on the 27th of July. Tickets on sale now.

i wish this was a paid advertisement

hafeziftiqar.blogspot.com is a very good blog. So good, it goes with everything; that is as long as you understand Malay.

The author of the blog, being a person more better than me in writing, is a prolific producer of cerpens and puisis, that strikes just the right balance between being preachy and reflective. Which is no mean feat. I've been trying to do that at my one for so long already , still cannot until now.

Melayu-melayu Melbourne

The accent was spot-on. The right inflections in the right places. A drawl certainly belonging to an Australian tongue. Except it was not.
The only give away, was perhaps the brown skin and beady eyes; 40 years abroad has transformed the Malay youth to an Aussie elder. Too long away from Malaysia, to know what it means to be Malaysian today.

That man was only one of many individuals I met, Malays separated from Malay-land. 10,20,30 years, trying their best to make this foreign land home.

A frequent lament is heard, "The young know not their roots". Their children, having spent all their lives here grow up different from their parents. Excepting the staunchest Malayphile, these children of working-families converse, think and live Australian, though being Muslim (coupled with the Malays' strong sense of tradition) differs them to a certain degree from the larger population.

The elders pine for their kampungs and picturesque paddy fields, and thirsty for a conversation in Malay, insist on instilling the young with what they remembered to be Malay culture. But in this age of mp3s and torrents, few respond . Its difficult enough to fit in when you already look different, what more if you behaved differently.

Now and then they gather, offering the outsider an impression of their community. They leave their houses to throw a riot, Makciks in tudungs yelling at the top of their lungs, pretty young things preening in one corner, everyone trying their best to have a good time before the restaurant kicks them out the door. When the music ends,they return to their houses in the suburbs, far apart from each other, already awaiting the next meeting.

Some will inevitably ask me, why the interest in Australian Malays? Why not? They are a living breathing community here in Australia, and most certainly the most similar to the Malay student community. It would not hurt to learn more about them, in fact IMHO, it would be of benefit to us students.
They themselves would be delighted, because masih ada yang sayang. Not everyone can afford that plane ticket back to KL.
But perhaps also because, like the gentleman mentioned at the start of the article said to me, "You can never say you will never return to Malaysia, and you can never say you will never stay in Australia"

Fatimah Bi, the graduate from the slums

Selamat Pengantin Baru

Perdana Menteri Malaysia, Datuk Seri Abdullah Ahmad Badawi akan bernikah buat kali kedua Sabtu ini di dalam sebuah majlis peribadi di kediaman rasminya.
Sehubungan itu, warga il-bloop.net ingin menyampaikan ucap tahniah kepada Yang Berhormat Perdana Menteri. Mudah-mudahan perkahwinan kali ini juga diberkati Allah SWT.

12 o’clock

Mother, I do want to leave off my lessons now.

I have been at my book all the morning.

You say it is only twelve o'clock.

Suppose it isn't very late;can't you ever think

it is afternoon when it is only twelve o'clock?

I can easily imagine now that the sun has reached

the edge of that rice-field, and the old fish-woman is

gathering herbs for her supper by the side of the pond.

I can just shut my eyes and think

that the shadows are growing darker

under the madar tree, and the water

in the pond looks shiny black.

If twelve o'clock can come in the night,

why can't the night come when it is twelve o'clock?

Rabindranath Tagore

The caliphatist and the traditionalist

Perhaps among the world's best known obscure writer (or translator "renderer" which would technically be more accurate), Marmaduke Pickthall lived an interesting life. His story, here.

Then there's also the guy who keeps turning up in other people's stories, Rene Guenon @ Abdul Wahid Yahya. Read this (relatively) short article on his life, and his faith here.

Oh there's also this lecture entitled, ahem, "The Past, Present and Future of International Law: A Critical Third World Approach.", Wednesday evening , 5.30 – 7.00pm. Pretend you don't have exams.

 

p/s Go on, flame me for the title. Like I care anyway…