Ternyata Kita Belum Bersedia untuk Syurga

Dirang dah tak ada, agaknya itulah perkara yang bermain-main di kotak fikiran Roselyn Alan ketika ini. 

Dirang mati, kena bunuh, merintih lagi hati seorang emak.

Dirang mati salah aku, sadis kan? Kau boleh hidup dengan persoalan itu dalam kepala otak kau?

Iye, aku tahu, Roselyn tak patut biarkan anak dia umur lima tahun pergi kedai sorang-sorang sambil dia layan Facebook. Aku tahu. Aku pun rasa benda tu tak patut. 

Tapi, apa yang lebih tak patut ialah masyarakat. TAK ADA LANSUNGKAH nyawa lain yang nampak Dirang hari tu? TAK ADA LANSUNGKAH orang yang perasan a child in distress? TAK ADA? Lagi senang hina Roselyn daripada buat apa-apa, kan?

Dan macam mana pulak si perpetrator? Si pesalah laku? Tak ada sedikit pun naluri kemanusiaan kah? Dah kering atau memang tak ada?

Sedih. Aku sedih bukan sahaja sebab Dirang. Aku sedih sebab we live in a world where this is happening. It is now clear, ternyata bahawa kita semua belum bersedia untuk syurga.

Dirang, mama mintak maaf (iye, aku juga ibu kepada Dirang dan anak-anak lain di sekitarku. Kau pun sama. Jangan culas tanggungjawab Allah ni). I have let you down, sayang. I will work harder to make this world a better place. For everyone of us.

Sampai satu saat nanti, kita semua akan layak untuk syurga. 

So Long, It's Been So Long Ago...

There are 8 of us in the family, 4 girls, 4 boys. I am number 8. The sister above me, #7, is 8 years older than me (okay, enough maths for today). And I've a niece in Ireland pursuing her degree in medicine. She's young, so she's kinda very, very gung-ho about Palestine (so am I by the way, but I'm gung-ho in another way).

Anyways, this niece sent an email about her fight so far, joining some march for Palestine's freedom in Ireland etc. And my sister (#7) replied my nieces email with something like, "I was 9 years old when Kakak (our oldest sister) bought me this pair of sweatpants -- part of the proceeds from the purchase of those pants went to Palestine..." or something like that.

My eyes were immediately glued to the words 9 years old. Sister #7 was 9 when she got the pants. Man, this have been going on that long? I know from news report etc, that the attack has been going on for 60 years, but Sister #7's words actually put things into perspective for me.

And I pray for Palestine. Maybe you should to.

Doa Itu Senjata Orang Mukmin

When I was in school, I studied a subject called Newswriting. As the subject name suggests, it's about writing news story, the kind you read in newspaper or the kind you hear being read on TV or on the radio.

I had a great time learning that subject, because, after all, I fancy myself as a writer.

One of the thing we learnt in that subject is, newsworthiness. It's basically a measure for any news reporter/journalist/writer can use when determining whether or not the story deserves a space in the newspaper or the TV or radio news.

There are seven newsworthy attributes. Prominence. Currency or timeliness. Proximity. Novelty. Human Interest. Impact. Conflict. There might be more, but the ones I learnt were those seven. Let me focus on one for this entry. Proximity.

Proximity, in relation to newsworthiness, basically means that a news story is interesting to the readers or listeners or viewers due to the fact that the parties involved in the news story are somewhat 'close' to the readers or listeners or viewers. By 'close', I mean, they share similarities, they share something in common that makes the readers or listeners or viewers able to relate to those in the news story.

Proximity here, to me at the very least, is open to your own definition. Geographical proximity, for example, as Malaysians, something happening in Malaysia would interest us. Proximity here, also denotes other similarities, like if the news story is about something affecting the Muslims, then the Muslim readers or listeners or viewers will be interested in the story, because even if the people in the news story is at the other side of the world, they're still our Muslim brothers and sister. We still share a common thread.

That's why what's happening in Palestine interests me. Though I gave Islam as a commonality between me and the Palestinians, I woefully acknowledge that I am not a good Muslim. But the stories and pictures bombarding the mass media of the latest attacks still breaks my heart. Maybe it's because I'm a mother?

I've a favourite quote, though I used that term loosely, because I don't have the exact word, on the Palestinian cause. It's from a well-known ustaz (religious, Islamic guru) here in Malaysia, Ustaz Wan Sohor Bani Leman. Ustaz Wan says that, "Palestin hanya akan menang, apabila solat Subuh berjemaah di surau sehari-hari sama ramai jemaahnya macam solat sunat Aidilfitri."

Mungkin nanti Allah makbulkan doa anak-anak Palestin. Dan doa-doa ibu-ibu yang patah hatinya seperti aku. Amin.

There's No Place Like Home.

In case you didn't know (cos I didn't tell you, cos I didn't think it was really gonna happen), we spent Raya Haji at Terengganu. *sigh*. Agak meng-nightmare-kan. Now, I am not a bratty, Paris Hilton type of girl. I can hold my own, tapi, I dunno, maybe deep down, wayyyy deeeeeep down, I am a snob.

We went back to hubby's hometown in Terengganu. I have no idea what's the name of the town, I think it was Batu Hampar or something. The house was old. And I mean old, creaky, wooden, berlubang-lubang type of kampung house. But hey, I survived it. Maybe we get to do it again next year (and only my love for hubby would enable me to survive that one, cos then, I'll know what I'm getting myself into).

I dunno lah. I'd like to think that I don't think I'm above all that. That Allah can easily take away all my comforts that I have in KL (seeing that I only remember Him when it suits me). That I can be worst off than that place. Tapi, entahlah. I can't stand it there. The smell. And it's dirty. I guess they think that it's old and crumbling anyways, bakpo nak kemas-kemas. The only person who did any cleaning up was hubby's Tok, an 90% deaf 80+ year old.

We spent about 3 days 2 nights there. 1 night was spent at Ayah Long, hubby's uncle, in some Felda in Kuantan, Pahang. Another nightmare. Not as bad as Terengganu, the house at least was rumah batu. But still, the floor had all this sand on them. Sands that will stick to your foot when you walk. And it will get everywhere. Why oh why don't these people clean up? Tak de sapu ke? And what's with the scattered utensils, pots and pans, pinggan etc?

They (as in hubby's relatives) think I am rich, that my family is rich. My house in KL has 8 rooms, rumah batu etc. But even if we lived in a small, cramped place, I am bloody sure my Mak will keep it clean. I don't think she'll let all the sand in house that long. She'll keep away her stuff (she might forget where she puts them, but at least they're out of the way). Sarung kusyen, almari etc, will not be as berdebu. Gawd. I am so sad thinking about all this.

MORAL OF THE STORY : I am fragile. I miss my Mak and Ayah all the time. I don't like going to other people's house and staying there, especially if I can avoid it. I think next time, I'll figure out a ruse to persuade hubby to stay at a hotel.