Tennis Elbows and Other Sorrows

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For years my left arm have been bothering me. Most of the time I'd ignore it. Earlier this year,when it was diagnosed as tennis elbow, I have had two injections, about three months apart and each time it worked. For a few months until I do something heavy. Like bags or whatever. I have always thought that it was due to an old playing injury, which was probably true too and later, it was from carrying Nazzim and Sofia. To this day, I remember carrying Nazzim, who was about one year old then, at the market. The market floor was wet and dirty and he wanted nothing to do with it. And he was a big one year old.

Even though I am right handed, I carry children (from cousins to nephews and nieces to both Nazzim and Sofia) with my left hand. Even when my left hand was tired, I'd switch but my right hand would only last a few minutes, then it s back to my good old reliable left. Same with carrying bags. Heavy bags.

Last Saturday, I played golf with a rather sore left arm which, by about midway, was on fire. It was aching before but it never bothered my golf. So, the only thing left was to go a doctor and get a referral to see a specialist. An orthopaedic surgeon you, no less. Itu maknanya sudah teruklah tu, heh heh heh. After some questions and a few painful manipulations of my arm, he declared it as tennis elbow. We know that already but this is coming from a specialist meh. And I'm gonna have it forever and ever. It will be recurring. As if I don't know.

The thing about tennis elbow is, it is caused by improper use of the wrists. As the good Dr. Syed said it, "Professional tennis players never get tennis elbows, it is the amateurs who get it, because they play tennis just like they play badminton, with their wrists..."

Ah, I play tennis but I play it with my right hand. Either I am a pro and good at it or I simply did not play enough. Maybe it was the latter. Then it dawned on me that it must have been all the bags and haversacks that I have handled through all the years, how I'd manipulate them with just my left hand, hence, left wrist. I'd pick it up with my left hand, put it over my shoulder with my left hand, hold on to the strap with my left hand, more often than not, with the wrist in some god awful awkward position. That must be it. And oh, the good doctor said that housewives are also great sufferers of tennis elbows - they wring the clothes they wash real good. And I'd usually wring the cloth that I'd use to wash my car real hard. You know how proud we' d be when we managed to wring every single drop of water from any piece of clothing? Yup, pretty proud and bad bad bad for the wrists.

So from now on, I just have to learn to use my right hand, wrist, arm, side a lot more. And just wring a lot less water out of anything.

And of course the injection. Ah, needles.

"It's OK, the needle is out.", the good doctor said as I was still squeezing my eyes shut then. Needles, I try to stay away far far away from them.

So remember, you get tennis elbows when you misuse your wrists......

Aaahhhh....., good to have a good left arm again.....

As a parting shot, what would you do if you are faced with something that is seemeingly insurmountable and not easily discussed with most anyone?

Now, that's a strong left arm............

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This Point in Time

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One of the hazards of working back home is that my time is not entirely mine. I have kenduris to go to, one last weekend and another one today. Weddings to go to, two tomorrow, as a matter of fact.

But then there are also friends to meet, had teh tarik with Wak last night. That counts as my time, that is after I picked up Sofia from tuition and sent her home. Same with Wak too, he had to pick up and send his daughter Amirah home. We finally met just after 11 pm last night.

I have started jogging a bit but this week I was so busy with the staff's midyear performance review that I simply had no time for it. No good. I managed to do so twice last week, once a week for the preceeding 2 weeks, around KLCC Park. It felt good. I remember thinking, through the pain and blurriness, like the doughnut man, again, only I was saying got to run, got to run, instead of got to make the doughnuts, got to make the doughnuts.......

Midyear performance review. The problem with that is, when I have to do it for my subordinates, it could not be a cincai job. Mine cincai OK, but not for the guys and gals. Do, redo, do, redo, review. And do it again and again. For the year end, multiply the intensity by five. Then all of us will just wilt and die. Effort, time, emotions. Just like falling in love.

On a more fairy taley side of things, if there is ever such a phrase, two people whom I know, who knew each other from many many years ago, went their separate ways, then reconnected, might be tying the knot soon. Romantic isn't it? And I had a big part in it - I was the reason they met each other again, three weeks ago. And now they are trying to set a date to tie the knot. Wah, fast one mahhhh.... Strange how a piece of clothing could result in a wedding. Aaaahhhh..... didn't Voltaire himslef said, that love is the ultimate and most wonderful form of madness? Each and everyone of us is a candidate for the casa de loco then. Ah well, good deed done there.

Life, ready or not, here I come.....

And oh, I am not trying to change the world, only the parts that brushes against me.

I Like. Hopefully soon.

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Some Things I Will Never Be....

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Some things I will never be :

A billionaire.
Emak’s favorite.

Some things Lina will never be :

A billionairess.
Mama’s favorite.

Hahahahahahaha……… funny lah you ni H.

One day, during a kenduri at her house, while getting the house, the stuff, the food, the drinks, the everything ready for the kenduri, my Mak Lang (to differentiate from Lina’s Mak Lang), while talking talking talking to Lina, eventually said,

“………..yo lah, H tu kesayangan omak (my mother) kau kan?”

“Huh? H tu kesayangan omak? Mak Lang, H bukan kesayangan omak”, Lina said.

She pondered for a while, and laughed, “Ha ha ha, yo tak yo jugak kan, H tu bukan kesayangan omak kau, ha ha.”

I am not emak’s favorite. Neither was I my late father’s favorite. I have no qualms about that. I maybe seventh out of eight, ya, that’s it, seventh out of eight for I think my Abang Usop is the least favorite, hahahahahahahahahaha…… but he goes on living his life, as I would mine. We learn as we go through life, our skin gets thicker. Some things hurt us, some things do not. Some things do not hurt us anymore. Some things matter, some things do not matter and some things do not matter anymore.

Being emak’s favorite, that’ll be the day.

These are my favorites.....

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Shake Your Hari Raya Booties

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Selamat Hari Raya to all.

Hari Raya means food, duit Raya and unfortunately, open houses. Kita ni yang go to orang’s open houses will meet orang yang kita tak kenal. People we do not know. Some, as we will find out later, are people whom we wish we have met before and some will make us wonder. One of the hazards of meeting people is shaking hands with with them, especially those who does not look at you when he or she does it. I hate it when people does that to me. I do not do that to people. Good people do not do that to people. Only jackasses do that. Lina gets pissed off when someone does that to her. Even kera's would look at you when you shake their hands. Try it. Pigs too. Not that I have shook a pig's hoofs but ask someone who has. I’ll bet you a dollar that pigs do look at you in the eye when you shake their hands, I mean hoofs.

And to top it up, most of them who do that are Malays, Orang Melayu. Shoot, even our Indian and Chinese colleagues do not do that. At the rate we are going, we may see that day when our budaya that is well known for being so bersopan santun go to the dogs. Shoot, even the dogs would want to stay away from these people. So, usually on our way out of the open houses or majlis's or do's, we’d give those abominations a miss.

Next time when you shake someone’s hands, see if they’d look at you in the eyes and pay you the proper respect as a human being. It's the least we could do to each other. After all, all of us will be in lowered in graves six feet deep and no rich person, powerful person or influential person will be in a shallower grave. If they do not look at you in the eyes, smack their heads. Tell them I told you to do it.

I need a machine gun.

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Long Long Distance Love Affair

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I was at work (or trying hard to work, heh heh) yesterday when the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Ash sheshemash ton shmesh blesch fever dmesh clierrrrrrr quarterrrrrrr like meanerrrrrrrr like………” (say it with an American/British/Australian/or all three accents, complete with the sengau voice)

“Wouw wouw wouw wouw wouw miss, miss, miss, miss, miss, hang on, hang on a second, what on earth are you trying to say, slow down, slow down, I can’t understand a single word you’re saying…!!”

“Oh……., I am calling from Singapore. I would like to talk to Miss Zaiton’s secretary on the discussion that we had yesterday and the plan for……………”

“Miss, miss, miss, miss, miss, I think you got a very wrong number, I am not Miss Zaiton and I am not a secretary and I am sorry but there is no Miss Zaiton over here, OK miss? You got that? OK, thank you very much, bye.”

Aiyo, the gall of some people. I would have been very civilised had she started with “Hello, can I speak with Miss Zaiton/Miss Zaiton’s secretary please?” I would have gone, “I am sorry but I think you have the wrong (not very wrong, just wrong) number. But I do declare, you have a lovely voice, may I know your name and can I have your phone number please?” We could have lived happily ever after, you know? But nooooooo….., she went straight to speaking like a redneck who hasn’t seen her brother in a while. Shoot, I have had people calling asking to speak to the charge d’affairs of the Japanese embassy but I politely (and clearly, that’s important – I am sorry but you got the wrong number….. this is not the Japanese embassy…..)

Why can’t people talk simple simple one meh? Kalau you cakap orang putih like orang longkang, then cakap orang putih macam orang longkang lor. Kalau cakap macam orang kampong, then macam orang kampong lor. Kalau cakap macam orang estet, the macam orang estet meh.

Some want to action action. Eksyen eksyen. Aiyo, accident nanti…

I need a new drug….

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Ramadhan

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Ramadhan means different things to different people.

One of Sofia's friends loves Ramadhan because that is when she usually dreams about her mother. Her mother passed away when she was a little girl. And it seemed that every Ramadhan, she would dream about her mother.

Don't ask me about the details of the story above - it's lovely the way it is and I'd like to leave it that way.

As for us, the reality of Pasar Ramadhan hits home again. On the first day of fasting we bought murtabak singapore tawar tak cukup daging dalam dia and yesterday we bought murtabak mentah tak masak betul and air soya bean tawar.

Today, I will masak my kuih udang sendiri punya. Cukup rasa, bahan and rencah. Cayalah...

Selamat Menyambut Ramadhan.

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Talking About Home

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Been two weeks since I have been home. I am happy to be home.

On a sadder side, Lina's mother and my uncle, we call him Mamu, passed away within these last fourteen days. Mamu is Bob's father, one of my favorite cousins. He's been sick these last few years and he passed away in the early hours of last Sunday. Lina's mother passed away a week before that. My timing could not have been better. I am glad to be able to be here. I know it meant a lot to Lina. We were not expecting for her to leave so soon. We were thinking, maybe a few more weeks, maybe a few more months but it was not to be. Both of them were buried at the same place. The same place where my father, brother, uncles, aunties, grandparents, grandaunts, granduncles are buried. Good to be visiting all of them again.

There are pleasant surprises sometimes, people have been coming to me and welcoming me back.

"You back for good ain't ya?"
"Good to see you back"

They are friends, all of them.

I look at everything positively now. I rush after work to be in time to pick Sofia up from school. That makes her day. And that in turn makes my day. When Nazzim was home last weekend, we went bowling. Both him and his sister would bug each other when it was the other's turn to bowl. And both of them would have their jig for each spare or strike. Usually the jig for a strike would be more graphic. Nazzim would mimic a mime. Mimic a mime, that's a good one. Sofia would shake, rattle and roll.

Golf is on hold. Initially it was on hold because Lina's mother was sick and she wanted to go back and see her mother every weekend. But no matter, golf is still on hold. We had the school's alumni bowling tournament three days after I came home. We were lousy but it did not matter.

I have always known that I will miss that place. I do and I always will. But it's good to be home. Life is fuller and more meaningful. For me, for me, it might not be so for someone else. For me.

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Homecoming

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I have not had the time nor the opportunity to update this site over the last 2 months and this will come as something really new - I am transferred back to Malaysia. After 1 year, 9 months and 2 days. That is about a year short than the "usual" 3 years but then there never was a rigid time where one is expected to be in one place. Three years is a nice period to get oneself used to. No, I did not screw up. I probably pissed off some people but that has been known to happen everywhere I go. Everywhere everyone goes for that matter.

Today is my last day here. Over the last one week it has been a blur of farewells at homes, restaurants and a disco. Only once at a disco. Even then it was a restaurant with a disco next to it. It was too good a chance to miss. I was running out of time :

"Oh, sorry, if you did not invite me over during the past 21 months, it's a bit too late now, my diary is full."

Heh heh heh...... I could be cruel at times.....

Sometimes I just feel like staying at home and take a rest. Tonight, a posse of them will come over at my house to cook and just chill out before sending me to the airpotrt,

"I'm not going to cook, you guys, I want to pack and be sentimentol (not a typo), so if you want to be at my house and cook and stay out of my way."

I am going to miss this place. I thought I would not say that but I will miss it. There are 2 things I will miss more than any other - my allowance and the ladies here!!!

Sofia has already booked me to pick her up from school the day I am home. Nazzim has made me promise that I will take him to Friday solat every week. It'll be good to be home. To be with the most important people in the world to me.

I'm gonna be home.

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Holy Express

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Two minutes forty-five seconds, that was how long the khutbah Jumaat lasted last week. The previous week was two minutes and fifty-three seconds.

We tried out a new masjid nearer to the office over the last month or so, just for a change. The khutbahs at the old masjid were short, but not that short. When we started at this new masjid, we thought it was kinda short. Really short.

Tapi khutbah dia cukup syarat2 dialah. Ada ayat suci al-Quran, ada semua adalah, he he he…. Amende semua tu gua pun lupa dah, tu masa belajar sekolah menengah kut. That was a long time ago, when T-Rex was roaming the plains.

I remember thinking that the khutbahs are a bit short when we first went there. I timed it last week and true enough, it was as I said, two minutes and forty five seconds….. pendek tu…. Yusz told me he timed it the previous week and it was only eight seconds longer.

Musa, one of the guys who reported for duty a few days before we went to the new masjid thought that they were telling us to shut our traps and listen while the khatib is delivering the khutbah, you know, the usual when they said something like “Janganlah kamu berkata-kata semasa khatib sedang membaca khutbah etc. etc. etc…….. maka sia-sia pahala Jumaat kamu.“

“Eh, dah abis dah? Eh, dah sembahyang dah ke? Aku ingat dia suruh kita diam masa khatib baca khutbah tadi. Dah sembahyang ke?”, he went.

“Wei dah start lah, orang nak rukuk dah tu…”

Someone told me dia orang sini Mazhab Hanbali. OK lah tu. Janji gi solat Jumaat kan?

Kalau back home, kalau imam tengah baca khutbah boleh jalan macam itik pulang petang lagi. Kalau sini, imam baca khutbah, get your ass into the masjid as soon as possible because you have about two minutes to do so!!!!

Been hard updating this blog. Can’t access it most of the time here.

Well, at least I found a new drug.

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Starry Starry Night Too

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I am into that song by Don McLean now. I rediscovered it recently and I usually listen to it just before I go to bed. I'd be lying in the dark or staring out the window, looking at the lights of the town.

I have always been slow in knowing the latest hits. Sofia, on the other hand, is usually very very up to date on thelatest songs or trends, especially for teenagers like her. Me, a song would have entered the charts, made it up to number one, stay there for a while, worked its way down, gets booted out of the charts and I'd probably "discover" it two years later. And in the process I'd managed to miss out on 90% on the other good songs.

I bought myself a docking station for my iPod recently and now, while I cook, eat, do the laundry or just putter around the house, the air would be filled with Malay, English, Hindi, Japanese or Russian songs. Seventy-four songs under "Favourites".

Went to another local wedding recently. As usual, my boss was not around and I had to give the usual speech for the office crowd that showed up. It goes like this - someone, there's always someone with a microphone, and he'd start to jabber things that I could not understand and soon they'd get to the name of the company and my name and all of us would have to stand up in front of the love birds and I'd have to say something to wish them happy long wealthy healthy life with many children etc etc etc. I think I am beginning to be good at this stuff. I'd just include our "bahagia ke anak cucu" stuff, some don't shout at each other unless the house is on fire stuff and more happiness is each other stuff etc. Etc etc. Etc etc etc etc.

This year, in November, it would be twenty years since I married Lina. Twenty years. Twenty years. I'll take another two of those please.

An afterthought.... me below outside the house in Copenhagen that Hans Christian Andersen used to stay in. Uummmhhhh... I smell gingerbread biscuits...



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