A Sad Goodbye

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A buddy passed away recently. He was only 36 years old.

He was not my best friend, but he was well on his way to becoming a good friend. Now, every Tuesday, I’d say that it is exactly two, three or four weeks since he left us. When we went to pick him up at the airport and then proceeded to the masjid for the funeral prayers, it was hard to believe that a friend of mine was in the plywood coffin that I helped carry. One who said goodbye to me a month ago because he was taking up a new posting. One who said that we’d play golf again when he comes back.

Both of us would light up whenever we meet. I’d step on his pointy shoes once in a while, just to rile him up. I hate it when I send him a message and when he replied, he’d apologise for he’s in Dubai, Bangkok, Jakarta or God knows where. Then later, out of the blue I’d get a message for a round of golf. And we’d play golf when he’s back in town.

He’s the only person who dares to sing the song “Fanatik” when we go out serenading ourselves. I’m no fan of KRU but I’d be hooting the loudest after he’s done. And he’d press the buttons on the remote a few more times and always, always, he’d choose “Broken Wings” and “Babe” for me. I’d belt out a bad rendition of that Mr. Mister’s song and maybe a slightly better version of the Styx’s number. And we’d laugh after I’m done. A little bit more, a little bit more, then I would have gotten it, he’d say. Yes, always a little bit more. Then we’d push the envelope a bit more and try “Istana Menanti” and “Suci Dalam Debu”, sing ourselves hoarse and then laugh some more, a lot more, for these songs have a long way to go in our repertoire, not a bit more like some others.

I’ll miss his messages. There’ll be no more messages to hate.

I’ll miss him picking out songs for me. There’ll be no more excuses to sing badly.

I’ll miss his fair face, shoes and his funny golf ball pouch.

I’ll miss him.

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Si Budak Pandai

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My nephew got something like 11 A’s in his SPM, the results of which was released earlier this week. That’s a lot more A’s than I ever got. His mother, my sister Kak Teh, was over the moon. His father is as cool as ever, as if these things happen every week to him.

His name is Ashraff but everyone calls him Farouk. It’s one of those things in Malay culture when someone is sick when he or she was a baby, they’d call him or her by another name. And more often than not, these names stuck. I have another name too but it didn’t stick. And I’m not telling. Sometimes some of his friends would come over and ask for Ashraff and it will take a few seconds before it would register on us that they are looking for Farouk. I guessed the tactic worked. Most children get better when their names were changed. I know I did. My mother was tired of me going pale, eyes going white, the works. His sister, Nadia, when she was a lot younger called him Abang Og. Thank goodness that name did not stick. Sometimes some people calls him Luke. I’d go straight to calling him Young Skywalker sometimes.

He’s one bright kid. He sometimes studies like his mother – sitting at the dining table in front of the TV, with the books in front of him. Read, write a bit, watch TV. Read, write a bit, watch TV. Do that over and over till whatever he is watching is over. That was how my sister used to study. If I were to do that, I’d be a dead duck. Next time when I see him and for the following few weeks, I’ll call him Si Budak Pandai. Ha ha….. When my grandmother forgot Lina’s name, she called her Si Budak Kaya, for Lina was wearing a gold bracelet, or maybe two bracelets, at that time.

“Aaamiiiiinnnnn…..Masinlah mulut nenek…..”, she’d say.

People says that he looks a lot like me. I have a portrait of myself, taken when I was 9 years old at the Lido photo studio in Kelang and I must say that he does look like me then, only better looking. No, make that a lot better looking for he’s one good looking kid. Which says that I’m good looking too huh? Hah!!! You so vain lorr, Dudae….

He wanted to be a pharmacist at one time. Then it was a mechanical engineer. I don’t know what the latest ambition is but I think he could be whatever he wants to be. Uh, except a lanun please, not a lanun. That’s a pirate, to you landlubbers.

I’ll never know what it feels like to get 11 A’s in an exam. Ah well, as things goes, each time any of my nephews or nieces do well in their exams, it’s payback time. Darn, these kids are costing me a fortune……

I need a new drug.

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A Brief Spell In A Northern Town

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Stavanger is cold!!! Cold. Cold. Cold. Cold. Cold. The gloves and cap sure came in handy. And the scarf too. No Melayu kebal stuff here, I just opt for the cowardly way out - bundle myself in anything and everything that I have. With every outing, slowly the gloves, cap and scarf would appear. Without them, the ears and fingers would go in a matter of minutes.

And expensive. I messaged Lina telling her that I bought what must be the most expensive T-shirts and key-chains ever for Nazzim and Sofia. She told me not to. But of course I had to get something for them. Lunch at a Chinese restaurant for three costs RM 520, ha ha ha!!! We could only speculate how much the dinner, hosted by our hosts Rag and Rune, costs tonight. Rag reminds me a lot of Mick Jagger. And he got the "budak nakal" disposition to go along with it. He does have that mischievous disposition. Forget about going to work with taxis guys, the twenty minute ride this morning costs us RM 120. You don't need a watch in the taxis here, the meter is just like a watch, it simply tallies up the fare that fast!!! You simply can't help but break the first cardinal rule about travelling overseas - do not convert anything to our local currency. You simply had to do that here. McDonald's meals cost about five times more expensive. A packet of cigarettes costs RM 40.

The town is lovely, with fishing vessels, huge supply boats and cruise ships passing by in the fjord that runs along the town. Norway is lucky, for a country of less than 5 million, people, thay are producing more than 3 million barrels of oil. Plus the gas. It's like Malaysia producing 15 million barrels of oil, more than twenty times what we are producing now. Ah well...... Look at what we have and not what we do not have.

I was supposed to be in Amsterdam for another week, next week, but I just had to opt out. The clogs, the cheese and the tulips will just have to wait for some other time. Two weeks away is long enough for me. Can't wait till we go back this Saturday. I know what will be waiting for me back home - the best food and my favourite people in the whole wide world!!!

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Ye Olde Bonnie Scotland

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Edinburgh is cold. Cold. Cold. Cold. Try a minus 3 or 4 degrees Celcius in the morning.

I’ve got two queen-sized beds in my room and the hotel restaurant has a magnificent view of Edinburgh Castle. I’m alone and I hope I’ll have time to pay the castle a visit. Maybe tomorrow, after a visit to The Royal and Ancient at St. Andrews, that is. We, my buddy Abdullah and me that is, have been accused of bringing the snow with us. The day we landed in Aberdeen it was a warm 4 degrees Celcius and the taxi driver commented that they had only 3 days of snow this winter. That night, it snowed and snowed and snowed. Well, maybe snowed and snowed, not snowed and snowed and snowed, about 8 inches, but enough. It’s been a decade since I have been near snow anywhere and I have forgotten how cold could winter be. Sofia was happy when I sms’ed her that it was snowing.

“Bestnya Papa!!!”

It is alright, Sayang. It is a lot of fun and I played in the snow just for you. I’ll get your T-shirts, I’ll get your chocolates, I’ll get your keychains and I’ll get you anything that I think might strike your fancy. And for Nazzim, our resident Harry Potter-phile, I took a photo in front of The Elephant House, where J.K. Rowling sat down and wrote her way to being the richest woman in Great Britain. I wish I was as rich as her, dinner for three Wednesday night costs a whopping 72 Pounds, thank goodness for the existence of expense account. At RM 6.50 a Pound, that’s RM 468!!!

It was snowing in Aberdeen when we took the train to Edinburgh. It wasn’t snowing when we arrived here Wednesday night. Neither was it snowing yesterday and this morning but when I left the meeting room for a cigarette, there already was 3 inches or so of snow on the ground. And it got colder.

Well, if Edinburgh is cold, let’s see how Stavanger is like when we go there on Wednesday.