Tiredness Can Lead To Anger

My routine during the Ramadhan month is a bit tiring. Basically, I wake up at 4.30am every morning for sahur, heat up the food and lay them on the table, get Bie and my brother to wake up to eat, eat and later clear the table and wash up the dishes. After that, I will iron the clothes that I am to wear to work and shower to get ready to go to work. After I am ready, I will wake Bie up and together with our Marsya and Raqib, we will go to the car and proceed to PJ, to my Maksu’s place who is currently baby-sitting both my children.

From PJ, Bie will send me to work and my day at work begins. When the clock strikes 4.30pm, I got ready to leave the office. I need to go to Maksu’s house and help her prepare the dishes for iftar. With the baby and all, it is quite impossible for her to prepare any dish alone (Raqib likes to be held these days). After iftar and Maghrib, we will get ready to go back home. Tarawikh at the surau is far from it. We will reach the house at about 9.30pm.

Before washing myself up, I will go straight to the kitchen to prepare dishes for sahur. Usually a minimum of two dishes. If Maksu packs some food then I don’t have to prepare anymore dishes. If I’m lucky, Raqib will be fast asleep. If I’m not, I have to put Raqib to sleep first, then cook. After the baby’s asleep and the foods have all been prepared, I will wash myself, pray and get ready to go to sleep. That is if my daughter isn’t showing any tantrum and doesn’t allow me to go to sleep. And that was what happened last night.

I was in the kitchen preparing food and suddenly there was a cry in the bedroom. Marsya was having nightmares. She was crying at the top of her lungs. Raqib was asleep and I was afraid that her crying was going to wake him up. I went to her cot and tried to coax her into going back to sleep, but she pushed my hand away and kept on crying. Bie wasn’t around. He had to go to Mont Kiara for work.

Her crying got rather loud. I ignored her and went back to the kitchen. For about 20 minutes, she cried non-stop. I went to her cot again and gently told her to go back to sleep. But she would not. The crying still went on. And for no reason whatsoever, I became angry. Very angry. I had to tell myself to be patient and that she was just a little child. But her screaming got to me. And the fact that she didn’t want to stop angered me even more. So I did the unthinkable. I slapped her hard on the thigh. She stopped crying and looked at me in shock. And her cries after that were even harder and louder. I went back to kitchen muttering to myself. Obviously mad at her and mad at myself for not being able to control it.

I felt bad. I went back to the bedroom and gently asked her what she wanted. She said she wanted water. She was thirsty. I felt awful. Here was my daughter wanting water and what did she get from me? A hard slap on the thigh. My eyes were stinging and within seconds, tears were streaming down my eyes. I got her a cup of water and held on it while she drank. I kissed the crop of her hair. She seemed so helpless. Eyes puffy with all the crying. Then I placed the cup on the dressing table and hugged her tight. I picked her up and held her tight to my bosom and brought her outside in front of the TV.

On the sofa, she held on me tight, no longer crying and told me that her thigh hurt. I felt awful. She was no longer crying, instead, I was the one who was crying. I laid her on the sofa and lie next to her, hugging her, coaxing her into going back to sleep. She didn’t go back to sleep so I had to appease her. Talk to her and play with her while Sesame Street was on.

At 12 something in the morning, Bie came back. I told him that my head was hurting and I needed to sleep badly. So he asked me to go to the bedroom and sleep. Marsya was all tantrums again wanting to sleep with me, wanting me to hug her. So Bie laid her on the bed next to me, and she fell asleep hugging me.

I was so ashamed at what I did. I was dead tired but of course that was no excuse to get angry with your child and slap her… [sigh]. These are testy times for me. I pray to Allah to give me the strength to go on. I am positive that things will be better soon, Insya Allah and I vow to try not to raise my hand on my children unless I really have to and that’s to teach them between right and wrong. Not to vent anger and frustration. I pray for Allah to give me that strength. Amin.

DNA Tests Confirms it

I feel so sad. I couldn’t believe my eyes as I read the news. It can’t be. It can’t be Nurin. Sweet Nurin whose pictures are all over the place. The girl found had short hair and weighed only 18kg. There was no BCG on her and she had a birthmark on her thigh. Her teeth were also gaping. Nurin’s father said the girl was not his. His girl has nice teeth and no birthmark. But DNA tests have confirmed it. And it is very hard to ignore the results of a DNA test.

I can’t imagine being in her father’s place right now. I know that DNA tests are strong and valid, but deep in my heart I hope that the poor girl is not Nurin. I hope that there was some mixed up or something and that the results were wrong. I hope that Nurin will come home safely. I hope…

Whatever it is, arwah Nurin is in my prayers. I hope she didn’t have to endure much before she passed on. I hope that Allah had taken her life just before she could feel all the pain. I pray for her soul and the souls of all other little girls who died after being sexually assaulted, like Nurul Huda, the Gelang Patah case and Harirawati in Kota Kinabalu.

We live in a wicked, wicked place. Do take care of your loved ones, and do pray that these sick bastards will not harm our children anymore.

Such Tragedy

I just saw the paper and the headline “Child Found Sexually Assaulted and Killed” got my attention. I didn’t see the news last night so I wasn’t aware of this particular incident.

I read through it and was schocked to the bones when I found out what it was about. I couldn’t believe it. My eyes were stinging and without I realize it, I began to sniffle. A six to nine year old girl’s naked body was found in a sports bag at a staircase of a shop lot in PJ. There were bruises on her neck, hands, and a post mortem revealed that a cucumber and a brinjal were found in the girl’s private parts.

She was still a very young child, for God’s sake. How could this sick bastard do that? The person who did this should not be left alive. I feel that his testicles should be cut off, a huge pipe be inserted in his anus, then tie him to a truck and drive the truck at at least 80km per hour. If he’s still alive after that, do not treat him. Stone him and let him die a slow and painful death.

I know it’s evil of me to conjure up such things for him but I am so angry. I am very angry. Shocked and goodness, no other words can describe my feelings at the moment. I truly oppose violence and death to young children.

What is happening to the Malaysian society? I so fear for my children’s safety. I don’t know what will happen to me if my children are faced with such violence and cruelty. I can’t imagine how the girl’s parents must have felt when they learnt the news. It’s terrible. Malaysia is no longer peaceful. We have many maniacs living among us and it’s very scary to know that these maniacs may be those that we know or are close to. I curse whoever did this. I do. I hope the police will find him soon and I hope he’ll get what he deserves.

My condolences go to the parents. I can’t give much of kind words and gestures because truly I’d hate to imagine how they’re feeling at the moment. One can only imagine, but the parents are the ones who are facing it. I pray that the girl’s soul will be placed with the sinless and the righteous, and that her perpetrator will be executed fairly i.e. a slow and painful death.

Puppy Love

I was at the hospital yesterday to meet my surgeon and gynecologist. Suddenly, a familiar face walked in. Though slightly chubbier with a little touch of beard and moustache, I know that I will always recognize the face. In fact, my heart was thudding quite fast the minute I realized who it was.

He went straight to a lady wearing a head-dress and sat down next to her. I tried not to look at him but it was difficult. I just had to see his face to satisfy my curiosity. I just wanted to know whether it was him. But of course, I myself was acting cool. I pretended not to see him. But I was caught. As I waited to see Dr As, he and the lady moved to a sofa opposite of me. Man, now I can’t pretend not to see him. But still I ignored him. I played with Raqib and at the same time talked to Marsya. Bie was at the counter sorting out my bills.

Suddenly the nurse called out my name, asking me to get weighed. I passed Raqib to Bie and went to the scale. My weight was alright. But I think I still need to work on the excess fats. Anyway, as I walked back to the sofa, I couldn’t resist myself. I mean, I can continue to play the ‘ignore game’ or asked him if he was who I thought he was. So I walked up to him and said, “Excuse me, but are you A?”. He smiled and looked at me. His face clearly showed that he still remembered me but his response was otherwise. He said, “Yes, I am”.

All nervousness was gone. He said he thought it was me, but he wasn’t sure until the nurse called out my name. I immediately introduced him to Bie. Bie asked us how we got to know each other. I gave a simple reply not wanting to give too much information. A was being nice though and told Bie that we were from the same residential area i.e. ‘setaman’. In fact, he still remembers where I live. I smiled. How could he forget where I live? And as for me, I sure as heck know where he lives. It was such a small world. His wife’s gynecologist was actually the same as mine.

We talked. The way he talks was somewhat familiar. I couldn’t let my eyes off his face. Bie didn’t notice anything though. His wife was friendly too. Apparently they have three kids now, the eldest being seven years old. I know. He was married when I was still doing my degree. We exchanged cards and since he’s an old friend, Bie is thinking of inviting him and the family if we decide to do any ‘makan-makan’ later.

Seeing him brought back nice memories. I got to know him when I was in Form 4. We didn’t go to the same school. His was a neighbouring school whereas mine was the glamorous one in town (I can’t resist. I just have to say it.. hehehe) I somehow have a huge crush on him. Totally huge. And he was aware of that. We would meet at the bus stand and go back together in the bus since we both stay in the same ‘taman’. We have never actually dated outside, alone. But we were constantly on the phone. And if he was playing soccer with some friends at the football field in the evenings, I would be there at the field, watching him. I liked him. To the max. In fact, I was obsessed with him. My friends knew this and at one point or another, he became aware of this as well. It was really my very first crush that I thought was really serious. I didn’t have boyfriends after I met him. In fact, I would put him as a benchmark whenever a guy approached me. He actually made quite a huge impact on my adolescent life. He was also the first guy that I have ever confessed of liking. Even at that time he had a girlfriend. I don’t know why we never made it as a couple. Yeah we flirted, but that was it. I mean, I couldn’t very well ask him to be my boyfriend. He had to make the first move. But he didn’t. I learnt from friends (yes I had spies at his school… hehehe) that the boyfriend-girlfriend arrangement he had with his girlfriend too was not his doing. The girl started it. He went along with it and of course after that, he must have liked her.

I remember when I first saw him walking with his girlfriend towards the bus stand (he had to walk around my school coz my school was smack in the middle of the town) and my friends saw him. They made a buzz. I was upset (silly isn’t it? well that’s what being a teenager is all about) and the song ‘Teratai Layu di Tasik Madu’ became my companion (thinking about it now made me feel stupid… hehehe). And that was how I knew he had a girlfriend. But we remained as friends. All the way till after school, when the SPM results were announced. He borrowed my video tapes and would come to my house to return them. We would sit outside near the gates and talked. His friends would pass by on motorcycles and he would wave to them. At that time, I think he had split from his girlfriend. But I don’t know why he didn’t ask me to become his. I probably wasn’t pretty enough, I don’t know.

But yeah, from thereon whenever I met a guy, A would always be the benchmark. I don’t know what it is about him that got me attracted. I guess it was the way he talked, or his charms. He wasn’t THAT handsome and he was dark, but to me at that time, he was the most handsome and charming guy in the whole world. Even Ibu knew about him. When I was in the UK, Ibu called me just to let me know that A was getting married. Though I had been out of contact with him for a few years back then, somehow the news made me upset. And I was even with Bie at that time. I still remember Bie saying, “You dah ada I kan, buat apa you nak sedih?”. I couldn’t help it. He was my extreme puppy love.

On the way home from the hospital, I revealed to Bie who A was. His expression immediately changed, he laughed out loud, and said, “I rasa I lagi hensem daripada dia” i.e. Bie thinks he’s more handsome than A. Looking back, yes. Bie probably is. Well, not so much of the handsome bit but more to the appearance bit. Bie still has his youthfulness when he presents himself. His appearance doesn’t make him look old though he’s got plenty of grey hairs now. Though he wears collared t-shirt and slack, he doesn’t look like someone’s old uncle. He still has fashion sense that makes him look good. To me at least (I may be biased coz after all I am his wife). And me, well I am not really a fashion icon, trust me but somehow we try to emulate one another; make each other look good in our own weird ways. And I like that. It’s comforting. As for A, well… he looks more like someone’s old uncle now. His wife also looks like someone’s aunt. But they both complement each other rather well. So I guess it’s fair. Me and Bie, A and wife.

So there, it was good to see him. A lot of fond memories flashed back, but I don’t think I’d trade Bie for him. At that time I didn’t know who Bie was. Bie had not yet existed in my life. But the minute he existed, he was my first real love. A was just a puppy love. Nice at that time but not real enough.

Another Monday

Mondays have never been a good day for me (Bie always call my Sunday nights as a ‘get-worked-up-and-all-moody-night’ in view of the coming Monday. I’d get all moody especially when I feel tired when waking up in the morning. And rushing to get ready to work isn’t something that we refer to as a fun thing. Today is no difference.

I was from Seremban this morning. Though how hard I try to leave the house early, at least at 6.45am, I would always end up leaving at 7.00am and sometimes, a little later. And the fact that I need to go to PJ to send my kids isn’t really helping. So in the end, I’d reach the office quite late. I hate being late to the office. Bie’s working on his own. So it doesn’t really matter what time he reaches his office as long as he is there.

What pisses me off is the fact that he can remain calm about the whole thing (I know some of my girlfriends agree with me on this). And whenever I make an issue of being late and everything, he would always turn it around and make it my fault, well indirectly. It makes me so mad. I made sure that the bags are packed before I went to bed last night. I made sure that the clothes are already ironed. I woke up at 6.00am this morning, but after doing that and doing this, preparing that and preparing this, I would always end up late. He blamed it on the traffic. Hello… it’s not so much of traffic. It’s us. We have to organize our time so that we wouldn’t end up late. The traffic will always be there. So to avoid it, get around it by leaving the house early.

I reached the office at 9.00am this morning, that’s like half an hour late. I hate it. I remember when I used to drive to work by myself; I would reach the office within a range of 7.30am to 7.45am. But now with just one car at our disposal, and the fact that we have two kids to send off instead of one, I can’t enjoy reaching the office early anymore. Oh well, I can’t blame it entirely on Bie (I so badly want to point my fingers at him), I guess I am partly to blame also. But when he sees that I am already late, please oh please don’t take your sweet time and remain relaxed about it. Hasten yourself. Do whatever that is necessary to contribute to me not being late to the office.

This is just me, on a normal Monday morning. I usually get so much better after lunch, so please be patient.