#the guard just being like apa ni

[mybukz]

Fiction: Nona Annabelle by Peter Soh

Image  by T RR from Unsplash

This is a catastrophe. I must be dreaming. Wake up, Annabelle. Only when you wake up will you realise this is just a dream.

But they are still here. Pairs of black eyes are looking at me, no matter how many times I close and open my eyes. I can’t recognise any of them. They are not my family members and they definitely can’t be the servants in the house! He must have eaten a lion’s heart to simply enter a nona’s room! So, who are all these men? And the ladies here?

“Who is this girl? She looks like she has no idea where she is. I love mindless girls!” a boy smirks.    “Shut up, Andrew Zach,” the girls growl in unison.

“No girls will like an arrogant guy,” a girl with a ponytail echoes.

The boy scoffs. “Well, I can prove you wrong. Mr Ian always says no one carries the skinhead as good as I do. I don’t blame you girls. You girls have no taste.”

The man is Andrew Zach. His name resembles my cousin’s husband’s, Marvin Zach Pereira, who is a Portuguese.

Wait a minute. Am I in Portugal now?

This Andrew Zach indeed looks like a Portuguese. He has a natural tan on his face, neck, and arms – the one that is completely different from other men where their face and neck and arms are covered with different shades of brown. He has a pair of deep eyes and together with his almost-bald head, his piercing eyes make him a forbidding figure.

“Siapa kamu semua?” I ask faintly.

“She speaks Malay. I fail my Malay,” the girl with a ponytail turns to someone.

“I am not good in Malay too,” Andrew Zach seconds the girl. “Kah Heng, you go and ask the girl who is she instead. You come from the government school and your Malay is better than us.”

Everyone looks into the direction of a boy with small eyes. He shakes his head.

“I don’t want,” he splutters his refusal.

“What do you mean by ‘I don’t want’? Find out where she comes from before Mr Ian comes in.” Andrew Zach is rather loud.

The boy with the name of Kah Heng walks towards me. I retract my legs and redirect my gaze to the floor. I feel so uneasy – I have never come across a man face-to-face before. Except Father.

“Hi,” Kah Heng greets softly.

I avoid his gaze and continue to look at the carpeted floor.

What is ‘hi’?

Wait a minute. Did he mean ‘hoi’? I have heard of this Dutch greeting when Father held meetings with the Dutch in our home. Let’s just try.

“Hoi,” I mutter.

“She is weird,” Andrew Zach interrupts.

“Shut up, Andrew. Let Kah Heng do his job first,” the girl with a ponytail speaks again. This time she looks annoyed.

“All right, Isabelle the class monitor,” Andrew Zach jeers.

Isabelle? Is her name Isabelle? I think that’s a name because my name is Annabelle.

“Apakah nama kamu?” Kah Heng continues.

Did I hear it wrong? He speaks Malay?

“Lu tau cakap bahasa? Gua Annabelle! Kenapa gua kat sini? Ini tempat mana eh? Lu orang siapa?” I cough out all the questions I have in my mind.

“Kami pun tak tau kenapa you kat sini. You kat sini sudah bila kami semua balik ke kelas.”

“Kelas?”

I am in a class? I have never been to a school and I am forbidden from doing so.

“Mana tempat ni?” I try to probe further of my whereabout.

“Quincey International School,”

I can’t understand the language. “Apa?”

“Ni sekolah antarabangsa. You pelajar baru?”

“Pelajar?”

I look at the surroundings. There are many tables and chairs. Underneath those tables are cascades of papers and books. Two white boards are fixed behind me and there are many bright long tubes on the ceiling. The room is extremely cold and everyone looks bewildered.

#

I sit at a metal table not knowing why am I here. All I can remember is I uncoiled my long hair and washed my feet before I went to bed. I am very sure I washed my feet before bed because this has been a practice in my household for generations. It is said to prevent sleepers from having nightmares.

But why am I in a school now? Am I dreaming, still?

Many people are queueing up for food. I have no idea why they have to queue in such a manner – people are distancing themselves from one another for about three feet. They all look scruffy and depressed; the men have long hair and moustaches and their white shirts are full of creases and stains. The ladies have bags under their swollen and bleary eyes and most of them let their hair down like homeless people. And that’s not the worst.

I can’t bear to look at the ladies who are all in short skirts. It is despicable to even create such a dress in the first place, not to mention putting it on. Tak seronoh langsung. A self-respected and dignified nona will never make themselves seen by others, least of all to expose such immodest amount of legs to the public!

I am never allowed to make myself seen. Even my existence in the house is highly guarded and I can never cross to the thia besar where guests and visitors will be seated. The furthest I can venture out without company is the thia gelap. I used to peek through the gilded screen door in the second hall to catch a glimpse of the Dutch businessmen but it wasn’t long for me to have to stay at the quarter end of the household to learn about my jobs.

Mother never lauds me for keeping the thia abu immaculate nor pressing her favourite maroon kain chelay smooth. She often reminds me the laurels of my highest acclaim will be the day when she receives nasi lemak on the 12th day of my wedding. I do not understand what Mother means but I perceive it as the day where I am free to go out from the household without hiding myself in a gunnysack.

At the moment, in the event of me leaving the house – usually to a Baba’s household to help out in cooking for weddings or funerals – Mother will require two male servants in the house to prepare a gunnysack for me to sit in. After I am well covered, a thick bamboo pole will be placed through the gunnysack for the carriers to transport me out from the house. And even so, Mother will never leave me with the carriers; she will always tag along closely because I can never be exposed under the sun.

“This is for you,”

Isabelle carries a tray of food and lays it in front of me.

“Isabelle?” I point at her.

“Yeah, I am Isabelle. This is for you. Food stocks are running low. I hope you don’t mind. Eat something.”

The last thing I want to do is stare at her again but I can’t comprehend any of the words she said. Except her name.

“Makan sikit, Annabelle. You need energy to go through this time,” Isabelle starts tucking a sludgy brown piece of meat into her mouth.

It must have taken a voracious man to be able to swallow such abominable food. I gag at the sight of the food but I sniff a pungent reek of curry.

“Kari?” I ask.

“Yeah, this is green curry chicken.”

I whip a spoonful of gravy and taste it. It isn’t spicy. The food tastes sweet and I find it funny. How can a curry be sweet? Mother would have thrown this rubbish and commanded a re-cook had I possessed the gut to serve this on the family table. I remember the hot slap on my left cheek when I mindlessly put in an extra tablespoon of salt into the curry chicken.

It is always about concentration, precision, and perfection in prepping a nona’s dish, as a nuance in taste can take its toll on my prospective marriage. Mother doesn’t have to keep her eyes on me to know my shortcomings; she knows from the way the rhythm plays when I pound the spices to the taste of the food I prepare.

I find cooking a gruelling task because there is no absolute way to tell how much spices, condiments, and herbs one has to put in in prepping the dishes. It continues to elude me how much to put in; it depends on the portions served and the preferences of each eater. I find it an irony to base my cooking by mere estimation to achieve perfection but I choose to keep quiet. It is better for me to endure the long hours in the steamy kitchen to pound, grind, cook, and steam dish after dish, pastry after pastry, than receiving curses, pains, and humiliation. After all, I am waiting for the day when nasi lemak will be sent home. That’s the day when I can go beyond the thia gelap, step out from the Chan’s family door, to look at the world.

How does the world look like in 1800? I heard from Father that The Stadthuys – the previous residence of the Dutch Governor – is painted in white but I am yet to see it myself. How massive are its walls? How tall are the doors? I believe it must be a prominent building because Mother says it houses important people from the Dutch, and now Britain. It must be interesting to see how different the Dutch and the Brits are since I have never seen a Brit in our house before.

I also heard that there are also a lot of Chinese slowly streaming into Melaka but Father detests them. He always complains how the Napoleonic wars gave chances to the British to bring in more Chinese and my marriage should only take place between compatible families, and never with the sinkeh. I always wonder why Father hates them since our Chinese forebears hailed from Fujian, China, too.

Just like the sinkeh, we bear a Chinese name and we pray to Dato’ Hoot Chor for Her protection and blessings. We celebrate numerous Chinese festivals and these are times when I confine myself mostly to the kitchen, busy grinding flour, separating rice grains, washing pandan leaves, plucking, drying and boiling bunga telang to make different offerings for Mother to bring to temples, such as kueh bakul for Chinese New Year, kueh chang for Kueh Chang Festival, and nasi kunyit during Semayang Bulan Tujuh, where souls of the departed are free to roam around the streets.     I never understand much about Father’s concern for the presence of the new Chinese. The only thing that I am free from doubt is the fact that dishes can never be ruined for they are served to deities, ethereal beings and guests.

“Why aren’t you eating?” Isabelle asks. “Gosh, I keep forgetting that she doesn’t understand English. Kenapa tak makan?”

“Gua tak lapar. Gua dah makan semalam,”

“Yesterday? Then why are you here? Kenapa kamu kat sini?” Isabelle continues to munch on the chicken.

“Gua tak tau…”

“What? How do you come in to the school? The whole school is in lockdown.”

“She is probably a boarder who just somehow wanders into our classroom. We have many international students here, come on.” Andrew Zach chimes in.

“Maybe…Look at her costumes. She is definitely not a local.”

“Mintak tanya eh. Macam mana gua boleh balik rumah?”

“Balik rumah?” Isabelle frowns.

“I told you she is weird,” Andrew Zach concedes.

“Semua orang pun nak balik rumah. Tapi tak boleh,” Isabelle sighs.

“Kenapa?”

“Adui. The school has been placed on lockdown. How to go back?” Isabelle snaps suddenly.

I am shocked at the abrupt change of her tone. I think I must have said something wrong.

I never ask anything again. Everyone looks despondent and it seems like the people here are going through a difficult time.

I sit upright and rooted, watching Isabelle and Andrew Zach gulping down the green curry chicken. I never eat the chicken.

#

“Mr Ian, there’s a new girl in our class,” Isabelle chirps.

Andrew Zach sneers at my direction. “And she is weird.”

Someone comes into the classroom. A middle-aged man with spectacles. He stands in front of the students, his face oily, his hair tousled, and his clothes smudged.

What on earth is happening to the people in this school? Dirty-looking, eating rubbish, and speaking alien language.

Am I dreaming, still? Why on earth people want to behave this way? I must be dreaming.

“Are you a nyonya?” the man looks at me with utter surprise.

I can’t decipher what he says but he mentions the word ‘nyonya’, which is quite similar to the Dutch word ‘nona’ in describing people like me who looks foreign in Melaka.

I smile weakly at him and quickly avoid his gaze. I think he must be a teacher of this class.

“Is she a new student? Where does she come from?” the man asks around his students.

“Mr Ian, we found her when we came back from the lab. We have no idea where she comes from but we think that she is not a local. She can’t speak English at all. She can only speak Malay!” Isabelle explains. “And her name is Annabelle.”

“Annabelle the doll,”

“Shut up, Andrew. Stop being so mean!” Isabelle retorts.

“She can speak Malay? Then why don’t you all speak to her and find out where she comes from?” The teacher looks displeased.

“Well… My Malay is not good,” Isabelle says.

“All of us are bad at Malay. We just take it because we have to!” Andrew Zach adds while spinning a basketball.

I can sense that the teacher seems to be very fascinated of my presence. I can see from the corner of my eyes that his eyes are darting up and down at me. I tug the opening of my brown baju panjang to the right.

“Annabelle, you datang dari mana?” the teacher asks genteelly.

This man can speak Malay! I turn and look at him. I can’t hide my excitement.

“Gua datang dari Melaka! Boleh encik hantar gua balik rumah?” I gabble.

“Kenapa you kat sini?”

“Gua tak tau. Bila gua bangun, gua dah ada kat sini,”

The teacher looks baffled for a second. “Takpe, esok dah boleh balik rumah.”

Clearing his throat, the teacher turns to everyone. “After 60 days of lockdown, the government has managed to weather the Covid-19 situation. I am here to inform you that we can all go back tomorrow. And the school is going to shut down for the entire year so that everyone can take this time to stay at home, have a good rest and reconnect with their family. Today shall be the last day for us to be here.”

A deafening cheer erupts. The girls hug each other while some cover their faces and wail loudly. I am not sure why they cry but it seems like the class has won a victory as all the girls quickly gather and form a big circle around each other. The men look calm but I notice that they aren’t looking so depressed anymore. Andrew Zach smiles to himself and he turns to his friends when he sees me looking at him.

“Mr Ian, how are we going to send Annabelle home? She will have no place to stay since the school is going to close.” Isabelle asks.

“No worries, we can book a bus ticket for her now since we now know where she comes from.” Mr Ian says.

“Good idea!” Isabelle trills. “But she doesn’t know how to speak English. What if she is stranded in the bus station?”

“Hmm…” Mr Ian thinks for a moment.

I have no idea what’s going on. I just heard my name being read, and the man, Isabelle, Andrew Zach, and some other students are all looking at me.

“That’s easy. We can just pre-arrange a Grab driver for her upon her arrival to the bus station. We just inform the driver how she looks like and what time the bus will arrive. I am sure the driver will know who to pick up because she is the only one who dresses like an ancient person. Probably comes from the grave since her name is also Annabelle.”

Andrew Zach bursts out laughing suddenly and Isabelle rolls her eyes again. I don’t know what’s happening but the environment is jovial. I am convinced that something good must have happened.

Mr Ian looks pleased with what Andrew Zach has said. “That’s a good one. Let’s ask for her address and we can settle everything now!”

“Annabelle, esok dah boleh balik rumah. Kami akan hantar you balik. Boleh tolong bagi alamat you?” the man asks me.

“Gua tinggal kat 133, Jalan Gelanggang,”

“Okay, tunggu jap,”

The man opens a box and starts typing. The box emits light and Isabelle is looking at her teacher’s actions.

“Done!” the man exclaims. “I will send her to the bus station tomorrow. The bus will depart from Kuala Lumpur at 9a.m. and I have booked her a Grab driver in Melaka. I have also told the Grab driver how she looks like – a tan girl in a chignon and a white-and-green school uniform.”

“Our school uniforms?” Isabelle asks.

“She is going to change her attire now. I will get her one from the storeroom. She is going to freak people with this outlook!” The teacher points at me suddenly.

#

Isabelle brings me to a room with a huge mirror. There are five doors standing next to each other. I notice that there is a white vase in each of the room.

“Do you want to pee?” Isabelle asks. “Wait, I forgot you don’t know English. Nak kencing?”

I am bemused with what Isabelle says. “Kencing? Sini?”

Isabelle looks at me and frowns once again. “Yeah… sini.”

“Kat sini?” I point at the white vase.

Isabelle seems to be appalled by what I ask. She nods at me with much confusion as I do.

“And tukar baju you kepada ni,” she points at the school uniforms that she holds.

“Kenapa?” I put my hand across my kerosang.

“Cikgu kata you pakai macam ni nanti semua orang tengok. Dia kata you pakai baju ni dan esok you boleh balik rumah terus.”

Desperately wanting to go home – or hoping this dream to come to a halt as I wish it to, I quickly undo my three kerosang and pass them to Isabelle. I take off my baju panjang, later my baju kechik, and Isabelle turns her back hastily.

“Why are you not wearing bra?” Isabelle calls out. She passes the uniform to me on her left hand without looking at me.

I don’t understand what she says. My sarong drops when I unfasten my silver belt. I take the clothes from her and put on the clothes that I loathe.

I look at the mirror in front of me. Such an ugly and distasteful concoction – a white-and-green short sleeve and short skirt attire paired with my sanggol tiga batang and kasut seret. I feel like killing myself before Mother does.

I am no longer a nona.

#

I sit in a moving vehicle and the man drops me at a crowded and smelly place. I use my batik handkerchief to cover my nose from the nauseating black smoke coming out from the many moving vehicles.

“I bagi you ni. You bagi I sapu tangan you,” the man points at my handkerchief while giving out a small bag of white paper. It seems like he wants to exchange things with me.

Wanting to end this dream, I pass him my handkerchief in exchange for the white paper.

He points at my chignon this time. I can tell that he wants my three gold hairpins.

I shake my head. No nona will ever let their hair down in the public and I refuse to give him my hairpins.

The people around start noticing us. I start to believe that my outlook attracts unwanted attention. I want to cry.

I pull out my three hairpins and throw them at him. My long hair uncurls as people watch our – or my – ungodly affairs.

He looks satisfied with what he gets and I stand there repressing my urge to cry, waiting for his next instruction.

“Naik bas tu. You akan sampai rumah. Jangan khuatir.”

I look at where he points. It is a blue vehicle. I point at the vehicle and look at him again and he nods his head.

I scuttle to the blue vehicle in my kasut seret. This is the only belonging that I never exchange with the man. My precious gold hairpins, kerosang and silver belt are now gone, to a man that doesn’t even need these items.

The blue vehicle moves. I heave a sigh of relief. I believe I am going to wake up in the Chan’s household again. I weep silently until I drift off to sleep.

#

“Mr Ian is dead!” Isabelle screamed.

“What the fuck? Since when?” Andrew Zach was taken aback at what Isabelle said and everyone was aghast at what they heard.

“I heard from other teachers that he died of sudden cardiac death on the last day of school.”

“On the last day of school? What did he do?” someone chimed in.

Another student spoke. “I don’t know. I saw him leaving the school with Annabelle.”

“Oh yes! That mindless girl. Any way we can contact her? Maybe she notices what happens prior to Mr Ian’s death.” Andrew Zach suggested.

“I remember where she stays!”

Isabelle took out her laptop and started typing away.

“133, Jalan Gelanggang.” Isabelle murmured to herself. “Here we are! A temple?”

“How can she live in a temple? I am sure she is not a nun!” Andrew Zach tried to deduce things with rationale.

“But here’s the location from the internet. And there’s a phone number too. Let’s just call and find out. If it is wrong, then at least we don’t make assumptions anymore.”

Isabelle called the number. Andrew Zach snatched the phone and put the conversation on speaker. The ringing continued until someone picked up their call.

“Hello,” a breathy voice answered.

“Hello. We are calling to look for Annabelle. Is she here?” Isabelle asked.

“Annabelle? Who are you?” the man sounded stunned when he heard the name.

“Yes, Annabelle Chan. She came to our school for a day last year. Is she here?”

“That’s impossible. The little girl had passed away more than 200 years ago.”

“WHAT?” everyone bellowed in mystification.

“How sure are you, uncle? How come you know things that happened 200 years ago?” Andrew Zach confronted the man.

“Of course, I am very sure. I am the keeper of this temple. The lady whom you mentioned is the daughter of this temple’s founder. Their tablets are venerated here.”

Sense of creepiness swept through the students. Isabelle trembled upon hearing what the man said. However, she plucked up her final courage to ask the uncle one more question.

“Do you know how did she die?” Her voice quavered. She couldn’t process all the things that had happened.

“According to the previous keeper here, Annabelle Chan committed suicide not long after she got married to a Baba household in Kuala Lumpur. It was said that she didn’t want to stay at home and so she took lots of sleeping pills and killed herself. Some people saw from the newspaper that her name is in one of the many graves exhumed to make way for a school. I am not so sure about this because her plaque is placed here. Aiya, there are so many nyonya ghost stories nowadays. Some even said those who owned vintage nyonya costumes and jewellery are cursed because nyonya adored their costumes and accessories much. You young fellas are reading too much ghost stories. Bye! Stop fooling around. I am very busy.”

The students looked at each other in silence. Isabelle’s legs went limp suddenly and passed out on the carpeted floor – at the same location where they first found Annabelle.

*

Peter Soh is an ambitious Malaysian writer whose stories are about darkness, pain, struggles, identity searching and what it means to be a human being. He made his publishing debut with his short story, ‘The Missing Tomb’ in the ‘Emerging Malaysian Writers 2018’ anthology and has unknowingly written six features about the baba nyonya in Penang Monthly. He is currently teaching First Language English and Sociology in Kingsley International School.

#nyonya annabelle #peter soh #peranakan #short story #malaysian fiction #malaysian literature

[qwertyunaaaiop]

being first child sucks

kalau semalam aku cakap jadi dewasa tu susah en tapi jadi anak sulung lagi perit. yang boleh buat aku terfikir benda ni sebab masa hari pertama aku datang penang indahnya disambut oleh yuni and abang dia. everything abang dia settlekan dari contact tuan rumah, cari parking, minta izin dengan guard house nak masuk angkat barang sampai keluar dari area condo ni semua abang dia settlekan. i was like ya Allah macam ke rasa nikmat ada abang? macam ni ke rasa nikmatnya diuruskan? macam ni ke rasa nikmat boleh bergantung dengan orang lain selain diri sendiri? it was so blessed tahu tak?

aku anak sulung. since aku habis spm like that tak ingat sangat laa tapi since aku dah boleh berdikari semua benda bergantung dengan aku. my aiyah not so good to talk to people but he has his great side laa. so sebab kan ayah aku tak pandai sangat bercakap dengan orang lepastu mak aku dulu kerja 12jam tak banyak masa nak uruskan hal-hal rumah or hal-hal sekolah aku, aku kena buat sendiri. its quite tough for me but i had no choice. tapi tu okay lagi laa sampai laa aku dapat sambung study in uitm.

preparation nak masuk uitm i do it by myself. daripada urusan dokumentasi sampai ke urusan minta bantuan. tanya orang sana sini, google sendiri. for some people mungkin laa benda tu ala kecik cinonet jee. but for me, no. aku pun tak pandai nak cakap dengan orang, aku pun maluu tapi aku kena paksa diri aku since my aiyah not so into it. menangis aku weh mana aku nak cari ketua adun laa, ketua kampung laa time tu dengan kerajaan tengah dok bertukar tak tentu hala nak cari pun. aku ingat lagi that time lepas mak balik kerja aku terus peluk mak menangis-nangis sebab susahnya nak urus hal ni sendiri. but long short story i did it laa sampai laa dah selamat grad paras-paras hidung hshshshshaha

dah grad ni benda lain pulak aku kena hadap. nak cari kerja tak senang weh aku ada degree people around expecting me to get a job yang elok kena dengan apa aku belajar. bukan tak cari, cari tapi tu la belum rezeki. punya nak lari dari serabut nate tuu aku decide nak kerja dekat kilang penang ni sebab… sebab apa lagi nak lari laa. mak memang berat hati laa beb nak lepas but aku ni kan keras kepala nak taknak she had to laa hehehe

what has happen ni kan aku terfikir laa anak sulung aku nanti aku harap laa lelaki. sebab jadi anak sulung perempuan tak senang. semua benda bergantung dekat hang. semua benda hang kena fikirkan. macam sekarang aku bukan kena fikirkan mak dengan adik jee aku juga kena handle tok dan tokwan sebab… takdak sebab my mak just want to so aku la kena tolong kann…? this all things yang buat aku berat nak kahwin. aku tolak ilyas bukan sebab dia tak baik, dia baik tapi dia menuntut aku untuk stay dengan dia kat sarawak after kahwin. howwww?? tak boleh weh sarawak tu jauh sangat. susah aku nak tengok mak tok tokwan aku. mak memang totally depending on me. financial and everything. i just cant. that’s why aku ghosting ilyas. aku taktahu perkataan paling baik untuk aku cakap aku taknak. kalau sebab rasa tu nanti-nanti pun boleh. but for this tak boleh weh kena fikir panjang. sangat panjang.

pasal jodoh ni takpe laa. aku dah lama letak tepi. takdak pun takpe laa my mak matters come first. she’s my everything even mulut cakap menyampah benci tapi hati tak sampai weh. aku ada mak tu sorang jee. kalau aku tak jadi manusia dengan sapa mak aku tu nak bergantung…..?

xoxo,

sucks but blessing 🙂

[kerahlekung]

Jho Low roams free, while Najib delays trial...

Jho Low roams free, while Najib delays trial....

The wheels of justice grind slowly, but the long suffering Malaysian who expects swift justice in the 1MDB saga, has been dealt two more blows. Disgraced Najib Abdul Razak, and his friend, Low Taek Jho a.k.a. Jho Low, are synonymous with 1MDB. Our patience wears thin with Najib's attempts to delay his trial, whilst Jho Low appears to be more slippery than an eel, and has evaded every attempt to arrest him, and face trial in Malaysia. On 31 October, Najib's trial was adjourned, because he was allegedly suffering from another eye infection, suspected to be an allergy. At around the same time, we read reports, that Jho Low, was alleged to be residing in the United Arab Emirates and been granted asylum in Cyprus. Some reports alleged that his asylum was because of suspected human rights violations and political persecution. 1MDB, the world's greatest financial scandal almost bankrupted Malaysia, closed the 140-year-old Swiss bank BSI, discredited many established financial institutions, threatened the ringgit, toppled Najib's government and its repercussion were felt in at least seven countries.

So, how much longer, will Malaysians have to wait before justice is served? The long delays wear the rakyat down and before long they will lose faith in both the government and the judiciary. The Nuremberg trials were completed in 11 months. Will Najib's 1MDB trial take longer? Najib was given one day's sick leave, however, he was fit enough to appear in Johor the following day and on Saturday, supported the BN candidate, at the Tanjung Piai by-election nomination. A responsible person would have stayed at home to recover, lest he spread his eye infection, rubbing his eyes and shaking hands with well wishers. More importantly, appearing in public after claiming illness, suggests that he is mocking the court. Najib's trial has suffered many delays, and dragged on for too long. Perpetrators of other financial wrongdoings, like the Tabung Haji or the Ministry of Defence scandals, have yet to be taken to court. The rakyat is restless. Najib's absence last week is the second time that his trial had been postponed. The first was on 11 September, for conjunctivitis, and on 18 September, his trial was also suspended, for a few hours, so a doctor could check his eyes.

Najib's illness, his lawyer's sickness, and the judge's reprimands for tardiness, and use of social media to publicise court proceedings, is a test of our patience. Why can't he be charged with contempt of court, or held on remand? The IGP, Abdul Hamid Bador, said that Jho Low, was using his money to buy influence, while roaming freely and doing business in Cyprus. Abdul Hamid said that the police were negotiating with Cyprus to bring him back to Malaysia to face a slew of charges. He also admitted that the foreign authorities were not cooperative. Jho Low's asylum is a humiliation for the Malaysian government. Controversial preacher, Zakir Naik, a man who is wanted in his native India, was given permanent residence and granted refuge in Malaysia. The Malaysian government has been given a dose of its own medicine. Both Zakir and Jho Low, are allegedly wanted for money laundering and other crimes, but at least, Jho Low was not the inspiration for terrorist attacks around the world. Last May, the BBC reported that the Indian authorities had accused Zakir of money laundering, spreading hate speech and inciting terrorism.

Both Zakir and Jho Low are wealthy individuals, and know that money opens many doors. Zakir uses his knowledge of various religions to convince Malaysians, especially Muslims, that he is a peacemaker. Just throw Zakir a microphone, invite an audience to hear him talk, and before long they will reach an erroneous conclusion and be convinced that he is a wise man, and not an alleged inspiration for terrorism. On the other hand, Jho Low, is an Old Harrovian, and during his schooldays, will have mixed and mingled with the sons of various royal families, who were sent to this boarding school. After leaving Harrow, Jho Low used the old boy network to forge business deals with his wealthy middle-eastern former schoolmates. Both Zakir and Jho Low are alleged to have claimed that they would not get a fair trial in their respective homelands. Either the Prime Minister of Malaysia, or the Minister of Foreign Affairs, should issue a statement to refute the allegation that Jho Low would not receive a fair trial. These are slurs on our judiciary, but will the Malaysian rakyat ever see justice in the 1MDB saga? Najib must envy Jho Low's freedom, and will use every opportunity to postpone his conviction. - Mariam Mokhtar

Another Twist In The Hunt For Jho Low...

The hunt for fugitive Low Taek Jho aka Jho Low takes a new dimension as he is now know to have acquired a Cypriot passport. He could not have changed his face to look like a “beruang” (bear) and body like a “seladang” (gaur) as this would deny him the right to hold a passport. He is more likely to go under the knife to look like the devastatingly handsome Leonardo DiCaperio. Why look like a scruffy bear when your 1MDB loot, even after having been partially surrendered to the US Department of Justice (DoJ), can make you look like DiCaprio or Humphrey Bogard? After all he was living out a movie-life in Hollywood until we exposed him as being the mastermind and the bagman for the former Prime Minister, Mohd Najib Abdul Razak, sometime after the 2013 general elections.

He even used some of the money he and Mohd Najib looted from the 1MDB to fund the latter’s stepson – Riza Shahriz Abdul Aziz - in his venture into the Hollywood movie world. The the picture above, Riza is squeezed in between Low and DiCaprio. Now that we know that Jho Low has a Cypriot passport, it would logically be easier for us to track his down. With a valid passport, he may be inclined to travel more widely and could let his guard down. Cypriot passport and citizenship could actually be obtained rather cheaply and openly from Euro2.15 million (about RM10 million) onward and Jho Low could have bought other for-sale passports as well. So let’s do a Mossad and get our hands on him. This should not be too difficult since our law enforcement agencies and their top brass have been telling us that they know his whereabouts. Let’s not beat around the bush anymore. Just dig him out of the worm hole, as promised, and bring him back to Malaysia kicking and screaming. - a.kadir jasin

Berkenaan dengan sikap Anwar...

Anwar kata dia sebenarnya dah malas nak jawab apa-apa kenyataan atau reaksi daripada Dr Mahathir yang ditanya apakah PM itu akan serah jawatan PM kepadanya atau tidak. Betul kata Anwar itu, tidak perlu dilayan pertanyaan berhubung hal itu. Yang bertanya bukan tidak mengerti tetapi lebih kepada nak provoc sahaja. Jadi buat apa layan orang ngor. Mulai sekarang ini elok Anwar mendiamkan diri sahaja. Jangan kata dan jawab apa-apa. Biarlah kalau Mahathir nak layan orang yang menyoal hal itu kepadanya. Paling afdal Anwar kekal dengan sikapnya serahkan sahaja kepada Allah taala. Bukan Anwar sahaja yang "jelak" (cuak) dengan persoalan itu saya juga dah nak naik kembung perut setiap orang bercakap dan bertanya bila Mahathir nak serahkan jawatan PM kepada Anwar. Atau bertanya apalah Mahathir serah atau tidak. Yang bertanya itu sebenarnya tolol dan seolah-olah tidak ada maklumat langsung. Sudah beratus kali dinyatakan bahawa konsensus PH, cukup dua tahun Mahathir akan serahkan jawatan itu kepada Anwar. Tunggulah dua tahun, kalau konsensus itu tidak ditepati, nah ketika itu baharu dibuat apa-apa tindakan berkaitan isu itu. Barulah boleh ditanyakan sejuta soalan mengenainya. Selagi belum genap dua tahun, biarlah Dr Mahathir jadi PM. Jangan ganggu dan jangan rubah tempoh itu. Telur ayam kalau tidak genap 21 hari ia tidak akan menetas, dan kalau dicuba juga untuk mempercepatkan penetasannya bibit ayam itu akan mati. Dan kalau ia over due, anak ayam dalam telur itu juga akan mampus. - mso

Story kat sini

Walaun tetap anggap segala fatwa 'ularmak' depa ni suci belaka, 

tidak boleh dibidas sama sekali. Siapa bidas akan masuk neraka.

Elok lebai daftarkan malaikat PAS tu dulu dgn SPR. 

Sebab nama mereka takdak dalam senarai pengundi..

cheers.

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[kemungkinan-blog]

'Ini hal saya dan isteri saya, orang lain jangan campur' - lelaki kantoi curang di shopping mall

Dari Twitter @aimaanna

There's this one incident that happened earlier this week. Kes curang kantoi busuk di shopping mall. Mall mana? IOI City Mall Putrajaya. Waktu kejadian lebih kurang selepas waktu maghrib. I was with my husband, jalan-jalan mencari tempat makan malam. 

Waktu itu, on the way ke ice skating di level one, sebab kitorang nak pergi Texas Chicken. Like any other couples, we were holding hands. Until we saw three persons standing next to each other. But I didn't really see it. Tahu-tahu saja nampak macam ada salah seorang itu terjatuh. 

I was like, "Okay jom jalan terus, jangan pandang diorang. Nanti diorang lagi malu," sambil tarik-tarik tangan Arshad. But he kept on looking. 

Dengan muka panas. Mind you, I was on the side where I cannot see clearly, where he's on the side that saw everything clearly. Dia terus pergi dekat tempat orang yang terjatuh itu dan waktu itu baru I realized that, a women around late 40's fell on the floor, dengan kasut tercabut. 

Ada seorang budak perempuan dan seorang lelaki. So then it hits me. Ini rupanya yang Arshad nampak, yang aku tak nampak. Lelaki tadi adalah suami kepada akak yang terjatuh itu. Yes, dia yang tolak isteri dia sendiri di tempat awam. Literally depan ice skating. 

So, Arshad pergi tegur lelaki itu dan cakap, "Abang kenapa tolak-tolak perempuan macam ni, bang?". 

Of coz Arshad kena sound balik. 

"Ini hal saya dan isteri saya," jawab lelaki itu. 

But, refusing to leave, he kept on stopping that man from being rough with his wife. I was in between Arshad and akak itu atm. Arshad suuh aku call polis, phone pula habis kredit. Terpaksa cari phone dalam poket seluar dia. Then, call 999. Bila dah dapat, on hold dengan emergency. 

Aku pass phone pada Arshad then he reporterd everything. Waktu ini, lelaki dayus itu dah macam tertekan dan malu sebab kami mempertahankan isteri dia. 

Apa yang berlaku, akak ini berkeras nak suami dia balik dengan dia sekarang jugak. Tetapi lelaki itu tak nak sebab tengah date dengan girlfriend dia. So bila Arshad dah ont he phone dengan 999, dia masih berkeras suruh isteri dia balik dan kata dia akan balik selepas itu. Tetapi isteri dia nak mereka balik bersama. 

Lelaki itu dah malu tapi still nak play the dominant, tarik-tarik tangan, bahu akak itu tetapi akak itu terus tepis sambil cakap "Don't touch me!" 

Waktu ini, aku act as a barrier, kiranya selain daripada anak perempuan dia halang bapak dia dari berkasar dengan ibunya, aku pun buat benda yang sama. Been in that much of pressure, akhirnya dia akur dan ikut isteri dia balik. 

What happened next? Dia masuk ke kedai makan semula, pergi ke meja yang dia tengah dating dengan girlfriend dia dan beritahu yang dia nak balik. That was heartbreaking for me. More to bad mixed feelings. 

While he was at the table saying goodbye to his lover, I asked the akak, "apa sebenarnya yang jadi ini kak?" just to break the ice. 

Kemudian akak itu pun jelaskan, suami dia kena sihir dengan perempuan itu. Family entah kemana, kerja kelaut, duit semua habis pada perempuan itu. Then, I looked at her hands and I saw akak ini tengah pegang surah ruqyah and she was reading it while the husband went back into the restaurant. 

Anak perempuan dia, pegang phone dan merakam gambar ayah dia dengan perempuan lain. How frustrating is that?! And then he came out of the restaurant, towards us and still suruh isteri dia gerak berasingan. Waktu ini, dia nak halau aku juga, gave me that stare. But I just stared right into his eyes back until he looked away. FYI, only guilty people with stupid ass ego do that. 

As Arshad finished the call and coming back towards us, lelaki itu akhirnya setuju ikut isteri dan anaknya balik bersama. Then akak itu terus bersalam dengan aku, begitu juga dengan anaknya. I just gave the guy a very stern look. Then they walked away. 

While all of that was happening, not even one security guard was in sight. Tetapi selepas dapat report, terus sampai Lans Koperal called Arshad to ask about the situation. Lans Koperal then said, they will go around IOI to be extra cautious and check. Just in case anything else happened. 

But, what really gets me is how he simply just treated his wife like that. You'd rather pushed your wife in the public, where people are looking sampai terjatuh weh. Sudahlah dia berbadan besar, tinggi, isteri dia kurus saja dan beratnya lebih kurang saya. Memang tak peliklah sampai tercabut kasut bagai. But that was domestic violence. 

What's worse is that it was in public. Kalau di tempat awam dah tolak-tolak macam akak itu sampah, apatah lagi di rumah? I'm not implying anything but I heard akak itu sendiri cakap, It pains my heart so much when she said, "Awak nanti di rumah lagi teruk saya dikerjakan,". 

Allah... 

So the morals here are: 

1. If you see something like this happened, jangan jadi tukang tengok. Pergi tegur saja siapa yang berkasar dan backup si mangsa. 

2. Kalau kena sound balik macam yang kitorang kena, warn lagi orang itu supaya dia berhenti berkasar pada mangsa. Call emergency atau polis. Bila dah call authority, diorang biasanya akan jadi kecut. 

3. That was a domestic abuse. You dah nampak, you kena report. Apa domestic abuse? Bila ahlu keluarga sendiri mengasari/mencederakan ahli keluarga sendiri. Pukul ke, tolak ke, tumbuk sepak terajang itu semua termasuk dalam domestic abuse. 

4. Fikirlah baik-baik sebelum berkahwin, sebelum buat anak. Jangan tahu nak sedap saja. 

5. Please pergi saja backup si mangsa. Bila dah ada orang stand by their side, diorang punya confidence pun akan naik. 

That was my first time encountering such situation in reality. I was honestly shocked but when I saw my husband was brave and confronted that guy, terus semangat datang and I was able to shake the fear away.

I'm sharing this to tall of you because I want you to be brave bila berdepan dengan situasi seperti ini. I learned a new thing that day. Kita dengar cerita dan kita rasa geram nak marah. Tetapi bila terjadi di depan mata, I know for a fact, ramai yang tunduk bawah and just walked away. I could have done the same thing if Arshad was not around. 

Kenapa? Sebab kita tidak membesar dengan cara konfrontasi. Semua benda nak kena senyapkan. Nanti malulah, apalah. No, enough if enough. If it's wrong and you saw it, say or do something about it. I bet mosti of you've had experience kena raba in public. But most of us usually are frozen dan kaku sebab nak proses benda yang baru terjadi pada kita. Bila dah habis proses, lelaki yang raba itu pun dah tersengih pada kita dan chow. 

So the last moral is, call out saja orang yang buat salah itu. Awak di tempat awam, you have every rights. Ini baru berani kerana benar.

Ingat lagi muka akak itu dan anak perempuan dia, muka bersyukur ada orang backup mereka dan hentikan suami dia dari terus berkasar dengannya. And as the walked  away, anak dia pusing belakang dan ucap terima kasih sambil tunduk dari jauh. That was beyond heartbreaking. 

Kalau kita yang rasa heartbreaking, apatah lagi yang keluarga itu rasa kan? You know what's more ironic? Anak perempuan dia bertudung baju labuh, simply menjaga maruah diri dan bagi saham pada bapanya. Tetapi bapanya keluar dengan perempuan yang berperwatakan sebaliknya dengan keluarga dan anak dia. See? Ironic. 

If fomestic abuse happens to you, report and press charge. Press charge ini you boleh failkan ke mahkamah atau minta restraining order sementara nak tunggu siasatan dijalankan. Buat saja atau tolong orang yang tak tahu buat tetapi mengalami keganasan rumah tangga. 

from The Reporter http://ift.tt/2q1w2hH via IFTTT from Cerita Terkini Sensasi Dan Tepat http://ift.tt/2qN0AGK via IFTTT

#IFTTT #Cerita Terkini Sensasi Dan Tepat

[kerahlekung]

Jangan duk tunjuk tak cridik.. baik duk diye-diye...

Jangan duk tunjuk tak cridik.. baik duk diye-diye....

Siapa la tuan director dan penulis skrip video pendek Presiden PAS ni ??? Tak akan Presiden PAS tak tahu fakta sebenar juga? Pak Lebai menerangkan 14 jalur di bendera tu melambangkan pelbagai kaum yang ada kat Malaysia. Fakta yang diberikan tu salah. Tak betul dan tepat. "Jalur yang empat belas itu melambangkan negeri² yang ada di seluruh Malaysia.."

Tapi yang bestnya cucu-cucu tu semua telan bulat-bulat apa yang Presiden parti agama sebut sama seperti para walaun2 partinya . Takkanlah ulama nak menipu... Bukan maksud berbilang Bangsa dan pelbagai kaum. Kalu tak tau, jangan buat pandai2. Gi ngaji nuhh.. Kan tak pasal2 budak2 paggil tok lebai kaki penipu!!!

Duk terbayang kalaulah Lim Kit Siang dan ahli partinya  yang sebut begini, apa jadi agaknya?

Jika Lim Kit Siang atau Lim Guan Eng yg tersilap cakap 14 jalur itu adalah melambangkan kaum maka lihat sajalah tempik teriak bagai yg runtuh langit oleh ahli² PAS , NGO-NGO pro PAS berdemo tuduh LKS dan LGE sah komunis utk di halau keluar Malaysia. - f/bk

Disunity The Buzzword...

The nation observed 62 years of independence on Saturday, August 31. Looks like our hopes for a vibrant Malaysia Baru (New Malaysia) will remain just another pipe dream. It is akin to a mirage in a desert. You get to see a fleeting glimpse of it and when you get the hang of things, the image is gone only to appear yonder in the horizon. It is like stretching our imagination to the fullest. Perhaps, infinity is a better word. What have we achieved after six decades as an independent sovereign nation? Malaysians were elated when a new government was sworn in following the euphoric yet unexpected results of the 14th General Election in May 2018. The prevailing mood was one of high expectations, as the rakyat celebrated the ouster of a decadent and corrupt party that had overstayed its welcome. However, the outlook today is much different from then. It is short of being melancholic and disappointing. A year on, there is not much to show that we are doing better as a nation in terms of national unity and cohesion. Instead, the deep fissures that threaten the very foundation of the country have become more apparent, as reflected by our very liberated social media. It is no exaggeration to say that highly provocative and sensitive comments stirring unrest among the people have become the staple today. Gone were the days when such comments were being cleverly hidden behind platitudes and clichés.

Race and religion remain the most divisive factors, as they were under the previous administration but cushioned with a relatively freer media today. They are being deliberately introduced to cause animosity and violence. On August 14, a man threatened to behead lawyer Syahredzan Johan for urging the withdrawal of controversial preacher Zakir Naik’s permanent resident status in Malaysia. A 28-year-old security guard was arrested and is being held for questioning. Hamid Bador, the current Inspector General of Police is doing a good job but he owes his new lease of life to none other than Prime Minister Mahathir. Well past the retirement age of 60, being retained and promoted, at the same time, is a dream come true for anyone who is just out of cold storage. On Saturday, August 17, a video of a man brandishing three menacing weapons – a parang, a sword and katana (Samurai blade) went viral on WhatsApp, I was a recipient too. In the three-minute clip, he was heard threatening non-Malays with violence while he proudly demonstrated his invincibility by running the blades across his abdomen, hands and neck. On Monday, August 19, police arrested a 43-year-old civil servant over a Facebook posting inciting Muslims to shed the blood of non-believers. Fortunately, no one heeded his call. The man urged Muslims to “sharpen their parangs for kafir (infidels) who may want to become like sacrificial cows”. The suspect was identified as an assistant director with the Islamic Development Department Malaysia (Jakim). In the wake of such provocations, the Malaysia Communications and Multimedia Commission (MCMC) has set up email and WhatsApp hotlines to lodge complaints against those who insult race, religion or the royal institution. How effective is this so-called remedial action is debatable as we have heard it so often before.

Bersemburit...

Following Pakatan Harapan’s victory in last year’s election, hopes were raised for a revamped Malaysia Baru promoting a more progressive and pragmatic society. This was followed closely by the indictment of Najib Razak, the all-powerful and seemingly corrupt Prime Minister.  The excitement, however, was short-lived as one blunder after another was committed by members of the ruling coalition. Minister Azmin Ali’s sex scandal was the icing on the cake. It had a demeaning impact on Pakatan Harapan’s stature. Shared Prosperity 2030, announced by Prime Minister Tun Mahathir Mohamad in May was to mark the ruling coalition’s first year in power. It was aimed at ensuring fair, sustainable, and inclusive economic growth; fostering unity and creating decent living standards for all Malaysians. But events and issues over the past few months, such as the move to introduce khat calligraphy, the resistance by Chinese educationist group Dong Zong, the furore against controversial Indian Muslim preacher Dr Zakir Naik and the Selangor government’s plan to allow for one parent to unilaterally convert a child to Islam, have shown that the new government is not much different from the old Barisan Nasional when it comes to matters involving race and religion. With Umno and PAS upping the ante in playing the race card and the Pakatan Harapan’s ebbing support in the Malay heartland, the new government is walking on eggshells, literally.

In the case of controversial preacher Zakir Naik, who faces charges of money laundering and instigating terrorism in India, non-Muslim Malaysians were dumbfounded by his hobnobbing with the Prime Minister when the preacher had openly supported the previous administration during GE14. The government’s reluctance to deport the televangelist, who was given Malaysian PR by the previous government in 2015, was seen as a move to appease the Malay/Islamic vote bank. But things have changed drastically for Zakir, who attracted a crowd of 70,000 and was treated like a VIP during a mammoth rally in Kota Bahru on Saturday, August 3. He is being investigated for provoking a breach of the peace by making disparaging remarks against Malaysian Indians and Chinese. He has been barred from speaking across the country. Among other things he had said that Malaysian Indians were more loyal to the Modi government in India and described the Malaysian Chinese community as “old guests” who should go back to China before he is made to leave the country. Claiming that his remarks were taken out of context, Zakir has filed legal action against Labour Minister M. Kulasegaran, Penang Deputy Chief Minister Dr P. Ramasamy, Bagan Dalam assemblyman Satees Muniandy, Klang MP Charles Santiago and former ambassador Dennis Ignatius. Tun Mahathir’s assurance that the rule of law will be applied on the preacher has allayed fears that the government would merely slap Zakir’s wrist to placate his legion of supporters. The last thing Malaysians want is a dishevelled and skullcap-wearing agitator from Mumbai telling us how to live our lives. - Fathol Zaman Bukhari,Ipoh Echo

Ustad Dusuki (PAS) seru boikot produk Non Muslim utk dpt pahala. Hoii.. 

Harakah pun dicetak kat Cina, sebelum tu pencetak Melayu.😅😝

cheers

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