Making a Difference

Friends used to say to me: "If you wanna help people, you've got to be rich first". I've never believed so. I think it's an excuse.

Yes, it would help if you were rich, but really, it doesn't have to be a pre-condition to making a difference in the world out there. If you decide to make a difference, put your mind and effort to it and you will!

I'm one of those lucky people in the world - I get to combine my passion for making a difference and my career, all in one bag. I get paid to do what I love to do and there are thousands of people out there who benefit from the service that my team and I provide. We get money, satisfaction and a sense of purpose. What else can one ask for?

Well, sometimes, a bit more. Perhaps, we could ask that the office politics outside my team isn't so bad and for members of the Board of Directors that don't try to sabotage our efforts from the inside. Especially to YB Menteri.

The bane of all things in this country are politicians and civil servants. Especially those who are self-serving, sycophantic and petty. No eyes, no ears, no passion, no heart and no recognition of merit and hard work. A blight and stumbling block to Pak Lah's Cemerlang, Gemilang, Terbilang vision.

The secret to not becoming cynical with this country is to make sure that your efforts at making a difference are defined and focused.

Make sure you know your limits and fight within those limits, to make sure that the right things get done. Do your best but prepare for the worst. Malaysia isn't always ready for the change that you'd like to see from it. But you have to persevere, lest this country will be inherited by corrupt and self-serving dogs.

"So, what's in it for you?" they ask. Aside from my monthly contractual salary - absolutely nothing. Just the satisfaction of contributing and making a difference. They look at me like this is an act of pure folly.

Perhaps, they don't understand what wealth is to me. It's not about how much you take, it's about how much you give, in all sincerity. Not everything should be defined by what car you drive.

Remembering Mum

Mum passed away recently after battling cancer for more than half a year. And I still haven't grieved for her. I'm not quite sure why.

I cried when cancer destroyed her beauty and left her a ragged, skeletal frame. I cried as she suffered through the pain in the last 2 weeks of her life. I cried on the dawn of the day when she passed on, while I was at Subuh prayers. I even remember asking God to take her life, should her suffering be prolonged. God's answer to my prayers was swift.

I cried when I saw her her dead body in the kain kapan - as I leaned over to kiss her forehead and to say something I've barely told her - "I love you". I buried her and cried again at the graveyard. I remember thinking and saying to her - "What will we do without your prayers and doa, for us? What will we do?"

And then, the tears stopped. I never cried again from that day. I feel - nothing.

Mum was the single biggest influence in my life. Every Malay adab and adat, every value, every bite of Kelantanese wit and sarcasm, every fear and insecurity, every desperate attempt for approval - they all came from her. We were not close and our relationship was strained, as I grew older.

I couldn't relate to her, but I wanted so much to be loved by her. To have her tell me that she was proud of me. I never knew if she was.

I don't blame her - she lost her mother when she was very young. She grew up under my strict disciplinarian grandpa. Life couldn't have been easy for her, either. Later on in her life, her marriage to my father was unhappy and he became a womanizer. She held all the pain inside - she never told us - even after his death.

I discovered, after her death, that she was afraid that I will turn out like my old man. That I reminded her most of him - I was confident, flamboyant, rebellious, ambitious with a streak for chasing smart and sexy girls. And that was why she was always upset with me. She wanted me to be a good man and a good husband.

And how my divorce must have crushed her - she adored my ex-wife immensely. Marrying my ex-wife, was the one single thing I've ever done right, in her eyes. And sadly, I must admit on hindsight, I married Sya, because Mum approved of her.

I wanted Mum to be happy - she was always complaining how my brothers never married anyone deserving of them - and I wanted to be the cause of that happiness. That would be my salvation that will redeem me, for the lack of affection that I've received from her. I would make Mum happy.

Needless to say, my divorce was one of the biggest source of sorrows in her life, prior to her death. She feared for my future - how I was going to turn out - the sort of man I would be, if I remained single.

I loved my Mum. I never really told her but I hoped that she understood through my gestures and actions, while she was still alive. I suspect that she loved me, although the moments when it was shown was too few and far in between. Especially after Ayah's death, when I was 10.

But I do have fond memories of my mother - early on in my life. Of birthdays, of hugs and kisses and a brand new bicycle, when I was 3 years old. Of the time when she walked me to school on my first day. Of how she used to comb my hair, to make sure that I was the smartest looking boy in the class. And how she would bring Milo for me at recess in primary school.

And the classic curries and exquisite kuah kuning and udang pedas that she used to prepare for me. That was how Mum expressed her love as I got older - through her cooking.

I've missed you before your death, Mum. And God knows I miss you even more, now. I love you and may God bless your soul forever. Al-fatihah.

A New Beginning

There are times in your life when you're looking for a new beginning, a fresh start.

Away from the past that has hurt you, going towards the future that you want. A renewal.

That's where I'm at right now. God knows I need it. By the end of this month, it would have been an eventful 30+ years. Too eventful. My experiences have aged me, beyond my years.

When I was younger, life was like a flight of stairs. You knew which step was coming next, when to time that step and knowing the upward direction you're taking. When I was 18, I was so very certain where I would be right now. Married, a good career, a lovely wife and 3 kids in a cosy home. I even had the girl sorted out. I had simple dreams. It looked achieveable.

But then, occasionally, life throws you a curve ball (or maybe a few curve balls). I'm successful, self-employed, striving to make this country a better place, divorced and living alone in a condo with minimal furniture. I've lost both my parents and my relationship with my siblings is like Isreali-Palestinian conflict - painful, traumatizing and prolonged.

No children, no commitments, not much to look forward to. No roots, no certainty as to where I'm going, nothing to ground me to this country that I so love. In some areas of my life I'm too ordinary and in some others, pretty extraordinary.

My flight of stairs is now an empty page, waiting to be written on. How do I feel about it? Excited, fearful, contempative of the road ahead, that is full of possibilities. I have a sense of destiny within me and others have told me so, but for now, it doesn't matter, if I don't get there. One step at a time - whatever Life has in store for me - it will come to me.

I've realized that in Life, you don't entirely have the choice to be who you want to be - Life plays its role too, in deciding who you will become. I've found that the trick is not to be unhappy about where you think you're not, but to be happy about where you are and to look forward to where you don't know yet, you will be.

It's not about control. It's about letting go. And living through what Life has to offer you.