Reconstructing resolutions

As the world bids goodbye to the noughties, we welcome the new year with as much enthusiasm as we can fake. Yes, surely it can't be a year already? I found it really entertaining reading the remarks friends made (on Facebook of course!) with regards to making new year resolutions. The most common one was about never making resolutions: My new year resolution is to never make resolutions!

F.M.Knowles quoted one quite beautifully, "He who breaks a resolution is a weakling; He who makes one is a fool."

Still, resolutions aren't all that bad, are they? Without them, one will never be able to improve himself. It is often an act that comes after one pauses and reflects. Yet we often fail. Miserably. Resolutions should therefore be made more practical so that it is more feasible or achievable. If 365 days is too long a period, then why not make them daily? I find Henry Moore's quotation rather apt: "I think in terms of the day's resolutions, not the years'."

I have dropped 2009 into the oceans of the past. It has gone with all its flaws and imperfections, forcing me to step ahead more optimistically and hopeful than anything else possible.

So, assuming that making new year resolutions is just a waste of time, let me end this with Joey Adams' words:

May all your troubles last as long as your New Year's resolutions!

Preparing

Ramadhan is just around the corner. It provokes a mixture of sentiments: happy to be able to embrace another holy month to submit to Him; nostalgic to be reminded of the sorrows the month prevailed in the past; anxious of how little ibadah I have done during Rejab and Sya'ban in preparation for Ramadhan - a pathetic day of fasting during the 17 hours of daylight in summer!

This year, my parents who have not missed spending their month of Ramadhan in the Holy land for the past twenty years or so will not be going to the Holy land. Initially, they decided that they were only going for the last 10 days. That already hinted that age is catching up on them. Then, dad announced they were staying home this Ramadhan as an act of precaution during the spread of the H1N1 pandemic; a decision I see as wise and necessary (based on hadeeth to avoid areas of possible pandemic spread). (I somehow refuse to write about the swine flu which, like other issues of propaganda, has possible conspiracy theories associated with it. My intellect welcomes ideas and information but refrains self from dwelling on them as only Allah knows all).

With the arrival of Ramadhan, allow me to seek forgiveness from my readers - be it my blog pals, old chummies, acquaintances, silent readers and family members. For once, let's forget about preparing for Eid but let's prepare for Ramadhan which will help us prepare for our days ahead.

Ramadhan kareem and bless y'all!

As life goes on...

Everyday, the only thing that keeps me going is the believe that He knows what's best for me. Hanging on to this, with every echoing emptiness, perplexing trial and excruciating downfall, I need to only remind myself,

فَإِنَّ مَعَ ٱلْعُسْرِ يُسْراً
For truly with hardship comes ease.

إِنَّ مَعَ ٱلْعُسْرِ يُسْراً
Truly with hardship comes ease.

(Holy Quran; Al-Insyirah, 5 - 6)

I'm trying very hard to endure and persevere. Things are not easy but others have it ten times more difficult. Always blessed, I know that the little siginificant and insignificant happenings in my life are the strings that help keep my chin up and appreciate more of life.

Let the wind blow in my face, let the storm rage in. Humble me, O Lord Almighty, and forgive the sins I have made, as well as my late husband's, my parents', my children's and all my family members'.

And life goes on...

Feeling good... praises to the Almighty

Just when I was beginning to feel a little bit down in the dumps, the Almighty knew best to brighten up my day by presenting me with joy upon joy.

Firstly, He granted us some sunshine. So warm and sunny it was that I happily hung our laundry out to dry under the sun and we spent time pulling out the weeds in the garden. I am, however, more wary of staying out when it's warm, i.e: high pollen content in the air. I must remember the consequences of exposure to pollen - horrible skin rash!

The great weather invited us to our second joy which was strawberry picking with some friends, followed by a picnic at our favourite park: Coombe Abbey (definitely where memories were made with the beloved and some precious friends, namely Mamasarah and Halwafy).

We are now going to have a strawberry feast this week, bagging home approximately 4kgs yesterday. After giving away a bucket to a neighbour, I joked that we'd be having ayam masak strawberry (chicken strawberry stew), sambal strawberry (strawberry chillies or chutney) and gulai strawberry (strawberry stew) the whole week! Chuckle!! Of course, it is in actual fact going to be more of: strawberry slush, strawberry shake, strawberry dipped in chocolate, strawberry tartlets, strawberry jam, strawberry shortcakes and strawberry tortes! Yum yum!

One thing about strawberries is that they don't always taste exactly the same. A piece may be sourish, while another may be lushiously sweet. Another attempt might prove in between while the next one seduces you even more! Little D announced yesterday that strawberries were his favourite fruit, but when I asked him how it fared compared to durians, he paused and said, "Well, durians are my favourite in Malaysia but over here, my favourite fruit is strawberry!"

Arriving home at 7.30pm, which is still early as the sun only sets two hours later, we were all knackered - ready for bed. We each showered, performed our solah and had a light dinner of left-over pasta from the afternoon. I was ready to hit the sack when the twins reminded me that they had to read their Qurans. Oh dear... I obliged seeing that Abang was excited as he was already in his final chapter of the Quran. Alhamdulillah, he has finally completed his reading of the Quran.

Unexpectedly, I was filled with a feeling of euphoria - undescribable and unexplainable. I didn't expect to be so overwhelmed over my boy's achievement but it just happened. I wanted to shout to the world - to close family members and friends, but I realised that there wasn't anyone around. People back home were still asleep at 10.30pm GMT (5.30am Malaysian time). I didn't want to scare my dad or sister, by calling them up too early; neither did I want to disturb friends with an unexpected beep on their mobiles while they were still in slumber. I thought of my friends in the UK, but quickly erased my text when I realised that I must sound like a crazy OTT mom, excited over nothing! After all, other people had their children complete the quran at a tender age of 7 or 8. And here I am, dubiously elated over her first-born completing it at the age of 11+. Big deal!

However, let me share why such feelings seeped through me. Even though the children go to the mosque to read their quran, they have completed their readings this time under my supervision - 100%. We started the journey at the beginning of 2008, and the journey has been beautiful. In my honest opinion, it didn't drag too long and the children were already familiar with the quran due to their previous experiences. My tajweed is not perfecto (and I'm dying to learn more!) but I have had my fair share of Quran and tajweed classes during school days (including those sleepy afternoon lessons during Forms 1 and 2 with 'ol Ustaz Dahalan) and also post-school days. The children are continuously asking about what a symbol means, and how the readings of certain areas should be - prompting me to search for an answer myself when things became vague.

We also shared stories of the different surahs and the significance of some stories. I attempted to introduce them to some arabic words and understand the structure of the language itself so that they would know where to pause, etc. I saw the twinkle in their eyes when they triumphantly recognised words and their meanings, or even names of prophets or even names of some friends or relatives! The repetition of certain phrases, such as in Surah Ar-rahman illustrated how beautiful the language of the Quran is, especially when they rhymed. Short and common du'as were marked for us to return to and memorise. It has certainly been education for us all!

In short, I retired last night with praises to the Almighty, for showering me with goodness and well-being. Upon reflection, His rezq certainly comes in various forms and shapes, and the best of them all is the gift of my Fantastic Four! May Allah bless us all always...

p/s: The house is also now more complete with the arrival of two wardrobes to hang our clothes up! No more living from a suitcase for us!!

No negotiations!

Every parent can certainly agree with me that bringing up a child is nothing like ABC. Some people sail through parenthood more easily than others, while some others are tested almost throughout. Of course there are also the in-betweens. That's probably where I am.

Parents often sit down comparing notes and sharing anecdotes of their growing up children. New mothers share their anxiety over engorged bosoms, sleepless nights, wailing bald heads and the simple debate of to breastfeed or not to breastfeed. It soon develops through a series of milestones: first tooth (and how much it hurts nursing Mums - Ow!!)/step/word/birthday to first day at kindy/school. As they grow older, the challenge is more mentally exhausting than physical - how do I make him sleep in his own bed, should I let her have it, or just the more obvious, how do I say NO to him without feeling guilty and him rebelling?

As a single parent, I find that one of the most trying things I have had to deal with is when I have to say NO to the children. You really feel like a baddy when you're almost forever responding NO to their questions or requests (especially when you're the only adult they ask permission from). In the past, I had wriggled myself out of sticky situations by occasionally directing the children to their dad, Go ask Abah...

Believe it or not, the children are often testing us by seeing how flexible and easily persuaded we are. Surely, it's all in the How to bring up your child handbook, and even on TV - Stoppard, Thomas, Supernanny, Nanny 911, etc. The rule of the thumb is to be firm and to remain consistent. Easier said than done.

Hence, the slogan that goes in the house nowadays is as the title goes: NO NEGOTIATIONS!

If mummy says we're coming home at 3pm, that's what we're going to do - nobody negotiates for an extra 5-10 minutes.

If mummy says we're sleeping over at a friend's for 1 night, that's what we're going to do - nobody negotiates for an extra night.


If mummy says they can play their X-box on weekends on school holidays only, that's what they're going to abide to - nobody should ask on a weekday.

It isn't easy but I think we're getting there. Once the rule is established and everyone respects it, I believe everyone will be happier and less stressful (moi! moi!).

Before this, we went through the concept of appreciating time; that there was time for each activity. When it was time to play, then everyone should go all out and enjoy themselves (without needing to negotiate for extra time later!). When it was time to eat, everyone eats without any interruptions (no TV, movie, and those never-ending yakety yaks). When it was reading moment, everyone gets a hardcopy of some reading material to indulge in.

These sort of slogans will InsyaAllah help me with my daily responsibilities. So watch out kids, with Mama there are just No negotiations!!

Waves

Some emotions haunt me like the waves beating the oceans. They come so furiously and they leave ever so quietly. At moments, I try to inject positivism by casting dark pieces into the wild sea. Only faith in Him, the most merciful, the most gracious, will keep me dissuaded and calm.

When the night releases its dark drapes, it often wraps me up with a sense of serenity and tranquility. This is the time for me to pause and reflect on all the rahmah and nikmah He has gifted me with, and all the trials He sets out to test me with. On the praying mat I humble myself and surrender to Him. Small insightful daily incidents of today and yesterday remind me to stand firmly on my feet, balanced and focused.

At times, even the wonderful foursome who keeps me breathless and panting most of the time get on my nerves. Yet, I try to extinguish the blaring flames of hormones belonging to a woman in her mid-thirties. It's a tough call but it has to be done, single-handedly or not.

Meanwhile, let the waves keep on cleaning the shores. I will pick the treasures left along the coasts, and I will thank Him for these little treasures.

Let me walk on the coastline towards my destination for I will get there soon. Indeed, InsyaAllah soon I will.

Lessons of Life - Part Two: 'Iddah

Since I've only got approximately one week left of mourning ('Iddah), I think it is apt to write a little about my journey throughout the period of confinement: 4 months and 10 days.

Please note that the period of my confinement, due to the lost of a husband through death, is 4 months and 10 days, unlike those who have undergone divorce: 3 months or 3 cycles of menses.

Spend a moment to pause and reflect on why there is this difference in time period. Surely, there must be a valid reason behind each proclamation.

As I have mentioned in one of my earlier posts, there are five main elements that I have to abide to while in 'Iddah:

• I cannot marry another.
• I cannot leave the house to pursue unimportant matters, including social visits.
• I can only accept male visitors in the house while my muhrim is around.
• I cannot go back home (Malaysia) during this confinement period.
• I cannot don any attractive clothing or apply make-up as to avoid fitnah (Al-Ehdad).

Let me also make myself clear that in interpreting what has been passed on by our Lord and apostle, there are many different opinions that may differ from what I practice. I have received various comments and viewpoints about what 'Iddah entails through liberal modern eyes, yet I choose to conform to what I have been taught and what I feel comfortable doing. Although I admit I may not have strictly followed everything I had initially highlighted, I did try as best I could to keep to them.

A woman in 'Iddah is sought to confine herself to her home, limiting social interaction and unnecessary mingling, simply to protect herself against censure. Abstaining from social functions is one point I find most complicated because not everyone agrees or understands this. On numerous occasions, despite my casual explanation, I was invited over to friends' for social visits. I was even cynically leered once for not visiting. I actually did visit others, but only close friends and not when there is a crowd. Why was I expected to be there? More interestingly, let me explain why I shouldn't.

Having gone through 4 months of my 'Iddah period now, I understand why the period of grieve was necessary. A woman is made so feminine; emotional and sensitive that a devastating news such as a death of a spouse would definitely shake her down to the roots. Thus, the period Allah has set for her to grieve (note: grieving period for other family members is limited to 3 days - nothing more!) is a long enough period for her to adjust her life and get back on her feet.

For instance, take me - a person most people consider very strong (??!). I still cry thinking of the lost of my dear husband. I do not cry of regret, but I cry of sadness and disbelief; to actually think that he has left me - for real! Every time I bump into an ex-student, colleague, friend or acquaintance while I'm out running an errand, and they extend their condolences, I'd be spending the next hour or two feeling nostalgic and sad.

This morning, as I crossed the street after exiting the library, I met my ex-landlord - Mr. Majeed. I told him of my late husband's departure and immediately, his eyes became misty. We only lived nextdoor to him for three months, but he sort of had a bonding with my late husband. It was difficult to find people who could not get along with the late Mr. D, I must say. After bidding farewell to Mr. Majeed, I turned and walked in the opposite direction with my cheeks streaked with tears.

Being totally independent in this foreign land, without close relatives or chummies, I run my confinement days with minimal contact with the outside world. Yes, I go out shopping when the need arises, to work, and to some friends' houses for discussions or friendly goodbyes. But I do not accept invitations with crowds around. That would be categorised as unnecessary.

To some, I have been like a recluse - hiding in my house when the outside world is blooming away (well, not so much during winter though...). I know most people mean well but my situation does not permit me to accept such invitations. My apologies... Please understand that I still find it difficult meeting people - because I no longer have my late husband next to me. If people cannot agree with my stand, then perhaps just try to understand me - try fitting into my shoes, even though our sizes may vary.

Upon saying all these, I am now making plans for next week (and the week after, and the week after - Easter hols: hurrah!!). Once the 'Iddah period is lifted, I need to embrace myself and march straight ahead. I have my children's well-being and future to think of. Although a little anxious at times, I am confident that the Almighty has got it all planned out for us - all for the best. Hence, with constant prayers, including those from family and friends, our passage will InsyaAllah be clearly paved out.

So, hold your horses - give me some space. I am not making any serious decisions just yet. Come April - when the weather's all sunny, who knows what new ideas and possibilities will come, and which doors will open... It will then be a new episode altogether, InsyaAllah.

Of pauses and reflections...

Art print poster entitled Pause to Reflect I by Brent Nelson

I have paused for some time and reflected. Perhaps it is now time to bid adieu to the world of blogging. Enough of sharing, enough of exploring, enough of hopping, enough of writing...

To most, this would be a place where a woman once wrote her inner thoughts and feelings at the time she was most tried. And, she will always be the person known as D - her anonymity exposed at the turn of events. Our paths may cross someday in the future, but then again, it may not.

To some, this would be a place to catch up on the updates of the person they knew. Is she managing? Is she well taken care of? Is she coping? How are her children?

Too much have I learned from the world of blogging. Life experiences shared, friendship, prayers, support and encouragement, are just among the few outstanding factors I have gained. I wish to continue and write more, I do, but I am overwhelmed with mixed emotions. Should I or should I not? To move on, without being too transparent, and also to avoid depressing entries, is quite a struggle.

So, this entry is just a thought - should I go on? After all, it's a question that has struck so many other bloggers before. Most left but came back after discovering that living without blogging was not possible after all.

Care to pause and reflect?

Last Sunday, I had guests. Well, okay, I now have guests almost everyday, since Mr D came back from the hospital. However, what made the guests on Sunday a little bit different was that they're my relatives and they had just arrived from Malaysia.

Abang Y is my second cousin but he can easily pass as my dad. Yes, he's about two and a half decades older than me. He calls my dad (who's probably about a decade older than him) "Pak Teh", hence I call him the 'Abang' title.

Naturally, Abang Y's children are of my age (and younger). The eldest, N, who is now in London (have settled down there), is 3 years older than I am. Her second daughter is my age - my friend. We have always called each other by name, ergo, nothing's a big deal here.

But now, N has a daughter who's about my children's ages. And I am now considered a grandma to her. Euuucchhhh!!!!! The dad actually referred me as the 'Wan', and I just couldn't believe my ears. Is this for real? Am I in denial? Why does it all sound so bad? Oh dear... I never really thought that I'd be like this. After all, I am only "half-past thirty" (borrowing a dear friend's words). Can't she just call me Mak Su, like my other nieces and nephews, or Aunty, like my friends' children?

So, okay, I am now a granny. I've been playing around with the options: Wan, Nenek, Opah (Mr D suggested this - No Way!!), Wan Su, Nek Su, Granny, Nanny .. HaHaHa. Nope, if I'm getting a grandmother title, I'm doing it the Malay way. I'm not going to be a nanny (translated: trained person to look after children). Hence, the quest begins... for the most suitable title to carry; not very glamorous yet containing enough charm. Errr, what charm can a grandmother possibly have? *sigh*

Now, the biggest joke is my kids have suddenly discovered that they are Uncles and Aunt!! My Little D can't help laughing away to think that he's Uncle Dean now. No, they get to be children and omit the titles.

What do you think? Are titles important, or should we just call each other by name, just like the Mat Saleh?

Kunta Kinte

For those who are as old as I am (or older) , you might remember Kunta Kinte from the popular TV series Roots, aired in the 80s. However, rest assured, today I am not going to write about the character Kunta Kinte, the man symbolic to the era of slavery. I'm just playing around with the title as I'm merely dwelling on the idea of establishing one's roots.

Earlier today, I had written an email to a friend (in response to his), regarding the importance of culture and knowing one's roots. Pretty ironic for one who doesn't really know which 'suku' she belongs to! After writing about 5-6 paragraphs long, I decided to delete everything for fear of sending the wrong idea across. Instead, I kept the introductory paragraph and hit the send button.

In my humble opinion, culture is important as it builds one's character. Nevertheless, holding on too much to one's own culture narrows down the possibility of personal development and general growth. But does it make culture altogether bad?

Sometimes when you get to pause long enough to take a glimpse around you, you're able to detect the irony of life. The westerns, who don't have much culture to hold on to, never fail to be amused by the colourful and exotic culture of others in developing or third world countries: the Bushmen stalking in the Kalahari Desert, the Thai performing dancing the Khon dance in unity, or the Orientals eating with chopsticks in street stalls. They get excited wearing batik sarongs along the sandy beaches we have, and have a taste of hot and spicy local cuisines. Despite all this, the developing nation work on becoming more 'developed' and modern.

I think culture is fine as long as one is willing to merge it into the evolving world. Culture can be retained while the mindset has to be set free: free within its limits. What's so important about a tree well rooted into the ground? Well, sometimes even trees can be uprooted when a hurricane hits, eh?

Care to pause and reflect??

I dedicate this to you...

Here's a poem by one of my favourite poets, Christina Rossetti, for you to pause and reflect on. Enjoy!

I Planted a Hand

I planted a hand
And there came up a palm,
I planted a heart
And there came up balm.

Then I planted a wish,
But there sprang a thorn,
While heaven frowned with thunder
And earth sighed forlorn.

Anyone wish to critique?

Writing away

When I logged into my blog this morning, I checked on all my postings and stared at the numerous drafts I had stored. I never returned to most of them. They're like abandoned thoughts and ideas, and I honestly think most of them actually embark on interesting notions. Geez... this is perhaps where my problem lies because to let you in my secret, this is so typical of me.

I have one folder in my computer where I keep a journal to jot down my ideas and reactions to articles I read. Some say it's a good start. Personally, I think it's BAD because I never come back to the scribbles to develop them into something worth reading. The different entries can never be incorporated into one. (By the way, I somehow have a funny feeling that this entry will never be posted. )

Through this behaviour of mine, it is easy to figure what sort of person I am. I like things to be done immediately : A-S-A-P. Why? Because procrastination is the enemy that's stalking me. The end result? If I'm lucky, I'd get a awesome showpiece. If it's the usual hey, pronto, then it's probably an average. On bad days, it's a total crap.

I am thus reminded of the task of writing essays back in the school days. Our teacher would remind us to :
1) spend a good 5-10 minutes planning your essay
2) start writing
3) spend the last 10 minutes editing your work - check for grammatical accuracy, punctuation, choice of words, development of ideas, bla bla bla..

And, throughout my years of learning the art of teaching, I too, found that the steps were essential. Still, I hated editting my work as a student (errr, seldom went through them post-writing!).

There are other writing strategies language teachers often recommend: quick writing and free writing. Quick writing is when you write on a specified topic(eg: books) within an allocated time (say, 10 minutes). You scribble as much as your pen takes you on the topic, noting everything that comes into mind. On the other hand, free writing is when you write on ANYTHING of your choice for an allocated time (perhaps, 10 minutes also). The idea is to exercise the brain to be creative, while the hand tries to catch up with the interesting development.

Perhaps I've been exercising draft writing. If the topic is worth coming back to, then I will (when????). If not, then I will go on my adventure, looking for interesting things to reflect on.

I have to stop now and get this published. Just for the sake of it.

pause and reflect: go back to old drafts and transform them into better pieces!

think a little harder...

Do you know anyone, perhaps in your school days, who was always (to be blunt here) a little bit daft? The one who struggled in school and often labelled lembab (slow), bodoh (stupid) or just ultimately out of reach? People who might have laid low when there was a maths problem to solve, ( and you kept showing the straight-forward explanation which never seemed to get into him/her). Or even when you were beginning to lose your temper showing him/her the short-cut to a certain place. Sometimes, we had or still have friends like this, or the person might even be someone very close to you like your brother, cousin, spouse or child. Hey, maybe you are like this??

These may be symptoms of dyslexia. I thought I'd write a little about it today. I wonder how many people out there are familiar with this term and how many others are ignorant of its existence. Dyslexia is a learning difficulty rather common amongst us - about 10% of the population has it. Anyhow, there are degrees of seriousness. And, recent research seem to suggest that it depends on the language you speak. More complex languages (such as English, which is so irregular in pronounciation, spelling, etc), will have a higher percentage of dyslexics. Phillipines, for example, is rated to have less than 10% dyslexics on average. I have a strong suspicion that with BAHASA MALAYSIA the rate is low because BM has a simple structure. However, problems arise when we are forced to be bilingual - learning to be fluent in English as well.

Dyslexia is a processing difference experienced by people of all ages, often characterised by difficulties in literacy, it can affect other cognitive areas such as memory, speed of processing, time management, co-ordination and directional aspects. There may be visual and phonological difficulties and there is usually some discrepancy in performances in different areas of learning. It is important that the individual differences and learning styles are acknowledged since these will affect outcomes of learning and assessment. It is also important to consider the learning and work context as the nature of the difficuties associated with dyslexia may well be more pronounced in some learning situations. (Reid 2003)

Symptoms of dyslexia are:
1. spelling difficulties (especially ENGLISH, as compared to BM)
2. writing disorder - mirror image especially for letters like b,p,d.
3. reading disorder - problems with reading comprehension
4. coordination problems
5. very bad sense of direction (including simple Left and Right)

Let me explain a little bit more about point 3 above. The problem is so crucial that it is the main thing that pulls down one's ability in ALL subjects (except art - haha!). You see, when a dyslexic reads, the words are jumbled up. To be exact, even the LETTERS are jumbled up. Plainly, you may have the letters arranged this way:

There is a small boy asleep in the bed.
but the dyslexic might see and read it as : Then is the all boy please on a deb.

That's probably the more extreme case. still, surely, that sentence DOES NOT make any sense at all! So, the dyslexic becomes confused, perplexed, exhausted and lost by the time he finishes the paragraph or passage (if he even makes it there!!).

To normal people who simply cannot understand why one simply cannot work out LOGIC and use COMMON SENSE to figure out the meaning of something, please understand that this person has a disorder. It isn't really a handicap but it slows down everything. Pause for a moment, and think of people around you who always gets on your nerve. There is a high possibility that you know someone with dyslexia but perhaps at a very minute level. Look at your colleagues, your boss, your neighbour (no, not you, mama sarah!), your peers. Think of how slow the person may have been. You see, some (severe cases or not) may never have the opportunity to succeed. Hence, ending up as a gardener, mechanic, labour. Those may be classical drop-outs and failures in school. Then, there are those cukup-cukup makan or average ones who end up as teachers, or even professionals like accountants, and doctors.

I married one. And some of my off-springs have inherited it from him. They go unnoticed in a crowd, though some suspect that they can be rather difficult in grasping explanations. My spouse inherited it from his father, who also inherited it from his father.

On my part, I have always been one who was pretty quick (tsk.tsk..). I read fluently before I was 4, scored full marks in Maths till Form 5, etc..etc.. Don't get me wrong. I'm not an all As student. I did suffer some F9s in school (boo-hoo!) and some awful borderline passes or mere credits here and there. Still, I was more of a science person. Well, Maths, to be exact. Physics was great but facts in biology was torturous. But I also loved English and I read day and night. I even read the lable on packages or ketchup bottles when we weren't allowed to read at the dining table.

So, it is just natural for me to feel rather annoyed when my off-spring showed very slow progress in reading. Reading is a task very difficult for them. They can jumble up letters and words, omit and add anything to their own desire. Check this out: In BM, tong sampah can even be tolong sampah (what the ....??), whilst in English sleep can be read please. This is only reading aloud. Imagine trying to understand "Setelah selesai minum, Razif membuang bungkusan air itu ke dalam tolong sampah". It simply doesn't make sense. Obviously, dyslexics will fail in reading comprehension.

In a different setting, imagine the whole family in the car heading to a relative's place. You give directions to the driver, "Kat depan ni pusing kiri", and the dyslexic driver turns right!!! Or, if you're behind the wheel at a busy junction, and he's the co-pilot, he shouts, "Right! Right!" with his hands pointing left. Doesn't that kill you?

In short, please be more aware of people like this. Imagine 10% of the population. Could it be 10% of the people you know?? With our education system and mentality, there is a BIG chance that they go unnoticed and unguided. Pause for a while and reflect on what we can do to help them. They don't need sympathy. Only empathy. Hopefully, the person is able to identify that he/she is dyslexic so that he/she won't suffer low-self esteem. Hey, dyslexics are mostly known to be very artistic and creative. They can also be very bright in other areas. Isaac Newton, Bill Gates, Richard Branson, Walt Disney, Pablo Picasso, Hans Christian Anderson, Leornado da Vinci, Michael Faraday, Henry Ford, Cher, Tom Cruise, Whoopi Goldberg, and Presidents and Prime Ministers: Washington, Kennedy, Churchill. On a more realistic note, it doesn't also mean that all dyslexics become 'somebody'. As long as they turn out to be good souls, that's what's important. I ponder, though, what about Malay names or Muslim scholars? Could it even be possible that our prophet (p.b.u.h) was dyslexic as he couldn't read when the angel Gibrael came upon him the first time? Wallahu'alam.