tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89251938739752984122024-03-12T21:51:40.534-07:00Dunia Z.A. Imadza_imadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681137995890983125noreply@blogger.comBlogger148125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8925193873975298412.post-1362379180910114742015-11-28T15:17:00.000-08:002015-11-28T15:17:22.850-08:00Road to KEMNAS 3: Episod 6 (Kisah tandas 1)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzNtIsyqiVKhge7Xi2iZCQoy2nLTFNjAzKkYButb2ausEqcQwCakq4U4BEcNVypK7Lh0B2OywHF4jAaQ0SfgxS-TNenHJnVnVs8BCybutepE3nnGA58Nrw8yQO3YpDeBjpodwRHd5TvI8/s1600/20151103_043516.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzNtIsyqiVKhge7Xi2iZCQoy2nLTFNjAzKkYButb2ausEqcQwCakq4U4BEcNVypK7Lh0B2OywHF4jAaQ0SfgxS-TNenHJnVnVs8BCybutepE3nnGA58Nrw8yQO3YpDeBjpodwRHd5TvI8/s320/20151103_043516.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Sewaktu hari pertama kami tiba di tapak perkhemahan Coban Rondo, perkara pertama yang kami cari adalah tandas. Di kawasan ini, tandas-tandas awam telah dibina di beberapa lokasi. Ada lebih kurang 20 buah semuanya. Salah satu lokasi kegemaran saya mempunyai 4 buah tandas.</div>
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Pada saat itu keempat-empat tandas tersebut dikuasai oleh lelaki. Waktu itu hanya ada kami dari Malaysia. Para wanita apabila melihat keempat-empat tandas itu digunakan dan kebetulan di hadapan setiap pintu itu ada lelaki yang menanti, terpaksa beransur ke lokasi yang lain. </div>
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Lelaki-lelaki itu pulang tersenyum kepuasan. </div>
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Masuk hari kedua, apabila jumlah peserta semakin bertambah, saya ke tandas tersebut setelah bangun pagi dan mengejutkan anak-anak di dalam khemah. Sangka saya, saya yang terawal sampai. Ternyata sangkaan itu meleset apabila sudah ada barisan-barisan yang menanti di hadapan tandas. Saya lihat jam di tangan. Ada lebih kurang 30 minit sebelum subuh. Yang paling mengejutkan saya ialah tandas-tandas yang dikuasai oleh lelaki semalam telah diambil alih oleh para wanita. </div>
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Saya sedikit hairan. Bukankah semalam tandas itu sudah di'chop' oleh lelaki? Kemudian, saya terfikir lagi. Oh, tandas itu mana ada label? </div>
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Jadi, dengan perasaan rendah hati, saya pula terpaksa beralih ke lokasi yang lain, </div>
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Perempuan-perempuan itu pula yang tersenyum kepuasan. </div>
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Bersambung... </div>
za_imadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681137995890983125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8925193873975298412.post-78996374369350808142015-11-26T18:54:00.002-08:002015-11-26T18:55:17.783-08:00Road to KEMNAS 3: Episod 5 (Ukhuwwah 2)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNVWqBMwKdtxxklv818E4hcGYXISWq3cYISaKytEp9ToLeiVF5oUxie7jZYuHljQuVHVBDT02ZeohKik7scoyyY4c0vz8gCl_uP_uV-Vc6YAZqEoL5yutSdedzb174blZMm5Ppdy_bbGw/s1600/CIMG4144.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNVWqBMwKdtxxklv818E4hcGYXISWq3cYISaKytEp9ToLeiVF5oUxie7jZYuHljQuVHVBDT02ZeohKik7scoyyY4c0vz8gCl_uP_uV-Vc6YAZqEoL5yutSdedzb174blZMm5Ppdy_bbGw/s320/CIMG4144.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Sebagaimana ditekankan banyak kali oleh Ustaz Abdul Rahaim (Ketua Kontinjen) bahawa objektif program ini adalah ukhuwwah. Kegiatan itu tidak harus terhenti di kalangan kontinjen sendiri sahaja, bahkan harus menyebarluas kepada kontinjen Indonesia yang datangnya dari pelbagai provinsi. Salah satu kegiatan yang dianjurkan adalah kegiatan 'Anjungan' di mana setiap peserta diberi kebebasan untuk saling ziarah-menziarahi 'kelurahan' masing-masing untuk berta'aruf. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIudx02rwqOJa5-y6z2Mack7pD3eDq6ZIExiIVhYCC62KMTBD9duB6fkR0SyTnZhB0a5EU6rqiwpRH-VVcFtPXrrTH8ce5M41iAdC9xDje-EIlw8WcbZQO9a_xFody9wEH02a9ZhIyVjI/s1600/CIMG4145.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIudx02rwqOJa5-y6z2Mack7pD3eDq6ZIExiIVhYCC62KMTBD9duB6fkR0SyTnZhB0a5EU6rqiwpRH-VVcFtPXrrTH8ce5M41iAdC9xDje-EIlw8WcbZQO9a_xFody9wEH02a9ZhIyVjI/s320/CIMG4145.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Bagi menggalakkan aktiviti ini, para peserta terutamanya anak-anak dibekalkan dengan sebuah buku di mana di dalam buku itu anak-anak dapat mengisi maklumat rakan-rakan yang baru dikenali. Kelihatan anak-anak dari Indonesia begitu aktif mencari teman-teman baru dan anak-anak dari Malaysia menjadi sasaran yang paling popular. Berbezanya mereka dengan kita bukan sahaja dari segi uniform bahkan dari jiwa mereka yang begitu teruja untuk berkenalan. Anak-anak kita? Pantang ada masa lapang, dikeluarkan smartphone, dan itulah ratib mereka sepanjang hari. Barangkali, segala gajet itu perlu diharamkan pada kunjungan akan datang. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib7dnErgGSrjSAjb2tl9mi_iQl7R_pEw3RiJXMMcLgoFaE1y2R8V_kOKLXqcy8sDkr3ob2dgDYvOlUoHP_-7QJrcvW6JE6QePj0oMwgc8amFI4cA4GzRazQ8OlfCb6pGr_EEJmF4B0yZg/s1600/CIMG4146.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib7dnErgGSrjSAjb2tl9mi_iQl7R_pEw3RiJXMMcLgoFaE1y2R8V_kOKLXqcy8sDkr3ob2dgDYvOlUoHP_-7QJrcvW6JE6QePj0oMwgc8amFI4cA4GzRazQ8OlfCb6pGr_EEJmF4B0yZg/s320/CIMG4146.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Ada juga yang rajin ke 'kelurahan' yang lain. Saling bertukar hadiah atau 'kenang-kenangan'. Apabila mereka pulang ke tapak perkhemahan, wajah-wajah ceria terpancar. Ditunjukkan pada saya hadiah-hadiah yang diperolehi. Ditunjukkan juga nama-nama sahabat baru yang berjaya disantuni. Ada yang tiba-tiba sudah fasih berbahasa Indonesia. Ya Tuhan, mudah-mudahan ikatan ini akan kekal hingga ke syurga.<br />
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za_imadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681137995890983125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8925193873975298412.post-43933278064112797372015-11-26T04:49:00.000-08:002015-11-26T04:49:54.846-08:00Road to KEMNAS 3: Episod 4 (Ukhuwwah 1)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx1A2Qq-uItPYzU6XTXx1gqpC8pa0zc6cfeGQ8-rRGmV9KMsoqUM0pm4QBrTtuJni2PaZmvbY6KEWpdKA8fxzfYEHG37Yj_oGPayNu1YLXvJDMKBQuvrSFWiVpuoXIluZLaZKFZBSrkIg/s1600/IMG-20151115-WA0003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx1A2Qq-uItPYzU6XTXx1gqpC8pa0zc6cfeGQ8-rRGmV9KMsoqUM0pm4QBrTtuJni2PaZmvbY6KEWpdKA8fxzfYEHG37Yj_oGPayNu1YLXvJDMKBQuvrSFWiVpuoXIluZLaZKFZBSrkIg/s320/IMG-20151115-WA0003.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Suatu hari, saya diuji dengan cirit-birit. Barangkali kerana tubuh saya kurang lasak. Salah saya juga. Hari-hari makan sambal. Sedang perut saya sebenarnya tidak mampu untuk menghadam makanan itu. Apa pilihan yang saya ada? Hanya itu sahaja yang ada buat pembasah dan penambah perisa nasi kotak yang menjadi hidangan kami setiap hari. Tambahan pula, sambal itu memang luar biasa lazatnya. </div>
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Berbalik kepada perut saya yang telah dizalimi itu, akhirnya saya tewas. Walaupun cuba digagahi, saya tewas. Air yang terbuang dengan banyaknya membuatkan saya lesu. Saya berikhitiar dengan mendapatkan ubat dan juga minum air yang banyak tetapi sakitnya mencucuk ulu hati. Saya hanya mampu terbaring hampir sepanjang hari sedang yang lain-lain ke sana sini menziarahi teman-teman di sepelusuk tapak perkhemahan. </div>
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Keadaan saya disedari oleh Ustaz Syathair (Al Islah Sungai Petani). Akan saya ingati individu ini. Di sebalik penampilannya yang sederhana, tersembunyi susuk yang cukup hebat dan besar jiwanya. Bagaimana dia datang dengan terpaksa menampung sebahagian perbelanjaan. Bagaimana dia yang asalnya ditugaskan untuk mengiringi anak-anak muridnya sahaja tetapi apabila sampai, beliau diminta pula untuk menjadi kem komandan bagi kontinjen sekolah rendah. Tanpa banyak soal dia mengambil tugas itu. Tidak sekalipun saya dengar dia merungut menerima tugas secara ad hoc sebegitu. Bagaimana dia dengan penuh rasa tanggungjawab, apabila menyedari keadaan kesihatan saya yang tidak mengizinkan, memberi kelonggaran kepada saya untuk tidak mengiringi anak-anak yang diamanahkan kepada saya sehingga saya pulih, Bahkan beliau mendapatkan saya sebungkus teh pekat untuk mengurangkan cirit-birit saya.</div>
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Tidak lupa juga kepada Ustaz Zul (As Saidiyyah, Seremban) dan Ustaz Shukri. Banyak mutiara-mutiara hikmah yang saya perolehi sepanjag bergaul dengan mereka. Tidak banyak kata-kata yang terbit daripada mulut mereka tetapi pergaulan mereka bersama anak-anak, rakan-rakan, orang atasan dan teman-teman dari Indonesia menggambarkan qudwah hasanah yang semakin menjelaskan erti ukhuwwah itu dalam gambaran yang paling tulus. </div>
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Allahuakbar.. sesusungguhnya mata ini, hati ini telah menyaksikan sesuatu yang indah. Ya, bumi Malang memang indah, Ukhuwwah ini lebih indah. Malang mempertemukan dua telapak kaki yang asing dengan bumi yang asing. Tetapi apabila, dia telapak kaki itu bersentuh, seolah-oleh seluruh bumi Malang itu terus bertaut dengan hati. Di bumi ini juga, dua individu yang tidak pernah bertemu sebelum ini dipertemukan dan dipertautkan hati mereka dengan ikatan ukhuwwah yang lengkap rukunnya. </div>
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Saat kami terpaksa berpisah di KLIA2, di dalam pelukan terakhir, saya sempat mengatakan kepada Ustaz Syathair, "Ustaz, ana akan rindui ustaz." Dan itulah sebenar-benarnya perasaan yang saya rasa setiap kali mengenangkan musafir kami di sini.</div>
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za_imadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681137995890983125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8925193873975298412.post-55288174075972561812015-11-18T21:05:00.000-08:002015-11-18T21:05:55.918-08:00Road to KEMNAS 3: Episod 3 (Epal)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN5Yo8bdQgDLeepMk4AmQ6jiZuz7ScWiK-L8BDGRWkq4e2vzzka_Pv5vFCADqTo_q3RRZaN11GxtUmeFvN4YziX_aSvRCBseMrl50jgADgkF-8bKd3maSOIbFPKsUDwEVR7bd0nXnmlDY/s1600/20151101_080034.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN5Yo8bdQgDLeepMk4AmQ6jiZuz7ScWiK-L8BDGRWkq4e2vzzka_Pv5vFCADqTo_q3RRZaN11GxtUmeFvN4YziX_aSvRCBseMrl50jgADgkF-8bKd3maSOIbFPKsUDwEVR7bd0nXnmlDY/s320/20151101_080034.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Wisata Kota Batu terkenal dengan ladang-ladang epalnya. Kontinjen kami berkesempatan untuk melawat salah satu ladang tersebut. Masuk dan makanlah sepuas-puasnya epal yang ada. Disebabkan manusia yang ramai ditambah dengan musim kemarau hampir 7 bulan, ladang yang kami lawati itu diterbangi debu-debu tanah gambut. Keadaan itu sedikit menyesakkan tetapi sedikitpun tidak menghalang kami untuk menikmati sepuas-puasnya kurniaan Tuhan yang mendampari tanah itu.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiXF-_QK-EPbk4w8nMREE_EyoQ64X1tdYjeKKaXQFvZcolVQ_3F0k5_Xcea-DBkfMgjeDZYNBQ3lVbbBLgO0Q0DO20DwyvLP3Gl4-1KoSHpwVpylG6UmQRDP96gh5fsHPEm2PZ9bEDYBA/s1600/20151101_081903.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiXF-_QK-EPbk4w8nMREE_EyoQ64X1tdYjeKKaXQFvZcolVQ_3F0k5_Xcea-DBkfMgjeDZYNBQ3lVbbBLgO0Q0DO20DwyvLP3Gl4-1KoSHpwVpylG6UmQRDP96gh5fsHPEm2PZ9bEDYBA/s200/20151101_081903.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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Pengunjung dibenarkan masuk dan makan sepuas-puasnya epal yang boleh dipetik sebebas-bebasnya. Di sinilah nafsu dan akal berperang di antara keinginan dan keperluan. Cukup 3 biji epal, perut saya sudah cukup kenyang. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQEF-JXLDySUccO2S46kyCTHGGW-B_enlCg1Sfs_p3QwT7AQaPSHpzO-YDpdvv7yHpmPIeXQksi5Mp4rq7KT1yAzMnQTWxhqPl7dXasBQUVsUAo2tzSjh0lJTkUopkK1Wi4XgMP8a93wY/s1600/20151101_082124.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQEF-JXLDySUccO2S46kyCTHGGW-B_enlCg1Sfs_p3QwT7AQaPSHpzO-YDpdvv7yHpmPIeXQksi5Mp4rq7KT1yAzMnQTWxhqPl7dXasBQUVsUAo2tzSjh0lJTkUopkK1Wi4XgMP8a93wY/s200/20151101_082124.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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Pohon epal yang ada tidak terlalu tinggi, Buah-buahnya mudah dipetik dan dinikmati. Dikhabarkan bahawa sebaik dipetik epal itu boleh bertahan 6 bulan lamanya. Ada yang tidak puas menikmati epal di ladang itu mengambil keputusan untuk membawa balik dengan bayaran Rp 20.000.00 sekilogram. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Db4yHiX-e9gN71dLDcSYn8NpWeUL4CIfOXD3WBfYnZ3CL6Rc1SwoJniVNUg8TiaXQJLOkX4NeKVgaTq9ra7w9mD4ctKY78sitMh2Q_FN_YpiAyACHAdaLio_TMfKK59nYhUj6cVHTW4/s1600/20151101_082709.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Db4yHiX-e9gN71dLDcSYn8NpWeUL4CIfOXD3WBfYnZ3CL6Rc1SwoJniVNUg8TiaXQJLOkX4NeKVgaTq9ra7w9mD4ctKY78sitMh2Q_FN_YpiAyACHAdaLio_TMfKK59nYhUj6cVHTW4/s320/20151101_082709.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Terdapat dua jenis epal. Yang berbentuk bulat rasanya manis. Manakala yang berbentuk sedikit bujur rasanya masam-masam manis. Kebanyakannya adalah epal berkulit hijau di mana kebiasaan di Malaysia epal berwarna hijau adalah epal masam. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhamDx7P0CrF4MS0Tt8xwXfQxvqGs56lTQzOF4WcR3JpK4ONE3YM0YhahM6n64qAYcNMUXCKMsr4R0sgsgjj7wWZAedDijgP_r72PoWeVI9PZ4wMDfykHZc-Biu5RC2DSF8FM5uZuas3mg/s1600/20151101_082746.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhamDx7P0CrF4MS0Tt8xwXfQxvqGs56lTQzOF4WcR3JpK4ONE3YM0YhahM6n64qAYcNMUXCKMsr4R0sgsgjj7wWZAedDijgP_r72PoWeVI9PZ4wMDfykHZc-Biu5RC2DSF8FM5uZuas3mg/s320/20151101_082746.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Lawatan ini membuatkan hati ini terdetik memikirkan kebesaran Tuhan di mana dari air itu muncul kehidupan. Besarnya kebesaran Tuhan kerana hujan sudah tidak turun di sini hampir 7 bulan tetapi ladang ini masih subur dengan buah-buahan. Dari air yang tidak berwarna dan tidak berperasa itu pula tumbuah buah-buahan yang pelbagai rasa. Ada yang manis. Ada yang masam-masam manis. Ada juga pelbagai bentuk. Ada yang bulat. Ada yang bujur. Ada juga pelbagai warna. Ada warna merah. Ada yang hijau. Semua kebesaran ini tersembunyi di dalam salah satu ciptaan-Nya yang bersaiz kecil ini. Yang bisa dimamah-mamah dan dimanfaatkan segala khasiatnya. Allahuakbar! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJTqkMBCPmW3Yryxn49usrV5O0Yhxzzex00SXy_W5YGg6lr2pRRSAZSJ9-TVjaoC5a-92wTOUC6EF99q7B1YHQMBLqHrUhsMvxTK66DsYTulFkqy02FFa9UrPtyC3xF6KeVy9RliEH4OE/s1600/20151101_083610.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJTqkMBCPmW3Yryxn49usrV5O0Yhxzzex00SXy_W5YGg6lr2pRRSAZSJ9-TVjaoC5a-92wTOUC6EF99q7B1YHQMBLqHrUhsMvxTK66DsYTulFkqy02FFa9UrPtyC3xF6KeVy9RliEH4OE/s320/20151101_083610.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Barangkali, masih ada yang ingat kisah pemuda dan sebiji epal. Kebetulan, anak ini (Tengku Danial Afroze) melakonkan watak pemuda tersebut di dalam sebuah program di sekolah beberapa hari sebelum berangkat ke sini. Disebabkan kisah itu masih segar dalam ingatan, maka sahabat-sahabatnya lantas mengusik, "Enta kena cari siapa pemilik epal ini." Dia hanya tersenyum dengan usikan tersebut. Semoga ibrah kisah itu terus tertusuk di dalam ingatan mereka. </div>
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za_imadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681137995890983125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8925193873975298412.post-60531767471012055942015-11-17T19:57:00.000-08:002015-11-17T19:57:32.614-08:00Road to KEMNAS 3: Episod 2 (Nasi Kotak)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Tubuh manusia sebagaimana musafir kami memerlukan bekalan tenaga yang mencukupi. Alhamdulillah, kami diperkenalkan dengan hidangan rutin saban hari di sini iaitu nasi kotak. Berbeza dengan hidangan di Malaysia, tiada kuah basah menjadi teman kebiasaan si nasi putih. Yang ada sambal, tempe dan keropok udang. Tiga menu ini menjadi teman setia si nasi putih di kala pagi, tengah hari dan juga malam. Manakala sayur dan juga bekalan daging bertukar-tukar menunya pada setiap sesi. </div>
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Kisah nasi kotak ini akan saya ingati sentiasa. Memahat erti syukur dengan kemurahan rezeki yang melimpah ruah di bumi Tuhan di mana sahaja kita berada. Dalam masa yang sama juga menanam keinsafan pada diri bahawa kesusahan yang kita keluh-kesahkan sebenarnya tidak seberapa dengan apa yang dialami oleh orang lain.</div>
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Saban hari, di tapak perkhemahan, setiap kali selepas makan, ada saki-baki makanan yang dibuang-buang. Apabila ditanya kepada anak-anak yang membuang makanan tersebut, katanya, "Sudah kenyang, ", "Tidak ada selera." Ada yang cerewet tidak mahu makan tempe atau sayuran yang diberi. Luluh hati ini melihat saki-baki makanan itu terbuang, Bukan sedikit. Banyak. Malah ada yang membuang nasi yang tidak disentuh langsung. </div>
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Pepatah Barat ada mengatakan, "One's lost is another's gain." Setiap hari itu juga, di balik timbunan nasi-nasi yang dibazirkan, ada seorang wanita bersama dua orang anaknya, mengorek-ngorek baki nasi itu. Kemudian, dikumpul-kumpul. Terdengar ngomelannya, "Sayang pak dibuang, Masih bisa dimakan nih."</div>
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Aduhai. Betapa senangnya hidup kita. Terkenang-kenang butiran nasi yang bertaburan di lantai kantin sekolah setiap kali selesai makan tengah hari. Teringat-ingat bungkusan-bungkusan hitam yang dikumpul pekerja kantin dan dibuang begitu sahaja. </div>
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"Nasinya.. dibuang-buang," keluh pekerja kantin itu yang kebetulan berasal dari Indonesia. </div>
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Apa yang saya mampu lakukan pada waktu itu adalah sentiasa mengingatkan diri dan anak-anak supaya menghabiskan makanan yang diberi. Saya ungkit kisah wanita tersebut. Saya ajak mereka saksikan sendiri bagaimana ibu tadi mengorek saki-baki nasi bersama-sama anak-anaknya. </div>
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Ada yang dengar. Ada yang tidak. Wallahua'lam.</div>
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Catatan:- Jurnal ini tidak ditulis berdasarkan kronologi tetapi berdasarkan tema.</div>
za_imadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681137995890983125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8925193873975298412.post-66861694937269362942015-11-16T22:57:00.000-08:002015-11-16T22:57:39.269-08:00Road To KEMNAS 3: Episod 1 (Sejarah)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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31/10/2015 (Sabtu)- Hari ini mencatatkan sejarah tersendiri buat diri saya. Buat pertama kali, saya diizin Tuhan untuk menjejakkan kaki ke bumi Indonesia. Alhamdulillah. Pihak pengurusan sekolah telah memberi kepercayaan kepada saya untuk menjadi guru pengiring kepada anak-anak Sekolah Rendah Sri Al Amin Bangi seramai 11 orang (6 lelaki, 5 perempuan) sebagai duta Malaysia ke Kemah Nasional Ke 3 yang bakal berlangsung di Coban Rondo, Malang.</div>
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Saya memulakan perjalanan jauh penuh bersejarah itu seawal jam 3.45 pagi. Melangkah keluar dari rumah disaksikan Ummi, isteri dan juga anak saya yang kedua. Anak sulong saya pula telah terlena diulit mimpi dan saya hanya sempat meninggalkan ciuman di pipinya sebagai pesan selamat tinggal. Tidak dapat saya bayangkan apa pula persoalan darinya yang terpaksa dilayan oleh isteri saya esok pagi dan hari-hari seterusnya.</div>
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Kontinjen KRS Musleh berkumpul di KLIA 2 sebelum bertolak ke Surabaya. Terdapat 3 perjalanan yang telah ditempah bagi menampung perjalanan kontinjen yang berjumlah mencecah 300 orang. Rombongan Sekolah Rendah Sri Al Amin Bangi ditempatkan di dalam perjalanan pertama. </div>
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Awal perjalanan itu menyaksikan mujahadah para sekretariat KRS Musleh yang telah bangkit seawal jam 3.00 pagi dan bersedia di lapangan terbang bagi menguruskan rombongan. Kelihatan mereka sudah biasa dengan keadaan itu. Tidak kelihatan pada riak wajah mereka keletihan dan juga rasa mengantuk. Bahkan mereka segak bergaya dengan uniform nombor 3 yang dilitupi windbreaker rasmi rombongan KRS Musleh ke Coban Rondo.</div>
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Dipendekkan cerita, apabila sampai ke bumi Surabaya setelah lebih kurang 3 jam penerbangan, musafir kami diteruskan dengan menaiki bas ke tempat penginapan sementara kami yang pertama yang mengambil masa hampir 4 jam. Jalan-jalan di sini berbeza dengan Malaysia. Lebih sempit. Lebih sesak. </div>
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Saya terlelap di separuh pertama perjalanan. Saat mencelikkan mata, saya melihat sesuatu yang amat ironis. Bangunan di kawasan Malang ini dibina rapat-rapat di tepi-tepi jalan. Ada bangunan yang usang. Ada bangunan yang cantik. Ada yang mewah, ada yang uzur terbina sebelah-menyebelah. Rumah-rumah ibadat juga dibina hampir berdekatan antara satu sama lain. Hal ini membuatkan saya tertanya, "Beginikan interpretasi pancasila yang sebenarnya?"</div>
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Saya terus mengagumi pemandangan yang saya lihat sepanjang perjalanan. Cuma sesekali keletihan membuatkan mata saya tertutup dan terlena. Sehinggalah kami sampai ke destinasi yang pertama. Bima Sakti. </div>
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Sebaik turun dari bas, angin dingin pergunungan mulai menerpa. Udara itu disedut dalam-dalam. Amat segar dan melapangkan dada. Hati saya mula melompat-lompat tertanya.Apakah yang menanti pada langkah seterusnya?</div>
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<br />za_imadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681137995890983125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8925193873975298412.post-11500430904177965112013-07-01T22:20:00.000-07:002013-07-01T22:21:24.104-07:00Entri Pertama 2013<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Assalamualaikum... Sudah agak lama saya meninggalkan blog ini. Alangkah terkejutnya saya apabila dibuka semula, blog ini sudah mempunyai 12 pengikut. Terima kasih kerana mengikuti blog ini walaupun sudah lama tidak dikemaskini. Kesibukan adalah alasan yang paling utama dapat saya utarakan. Saya sibuk kerana si kecil di dalam gambar ini. Sibuk menanti kelahirannya. Sibuk mengurus kelahirannya. Sibuk melihat proses perkembangannya. </div>
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Saat-saat kesibukan itu merupakan saat-saat terindah di dalam hidup saya. Tidak tergambar segala-galanya pada rantaian aksara papan kekunci walaupun perasaan itu ternyata memenuhi seluruh ruang dan juga liang di dalam diri saya. Alhamdulillah. Subhanallah. Allahuakbar.</div>
za_imadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681137995890983125noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8925193873975298412.post-68542284305865769822012-03-15T03:32:00.005-07:002012-03-15T03:55:35.363-07:00Seekor chimpanzee bernama Bobo<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoidkTcdpTNSFKo5kyVbFjUhLpngYau5R3yzfbLNIr0_UQa8StyQPyjI7TVeVNqlbhHHPg4jNNlwJvHZ6SdTcJWAnG55V6DwUGe5lHdjyQGsKZ87k1U-L1mV40R2MAdJvD9EKSXvlyViE/s1600/Chimpanzee_thinking_poster.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 156px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoidkTcdpTNSFKo5kyVbFjUhLpngYau5R3yzfbLNIr0_UQa8StyQPyjI7TVeVNqlbhHHPg4jNNlwJvHZ6SdTcJWAnG55V6DwUGe5lHdjyQGsKZ87k1U-L1mV40R2MAdJvD9EKSXvlyViE/s200/Chimpanzee_thinking_poster.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5720073496583289474" /></a><br /><br />Saya mulakan kisah ini dengan mukaddimah yang tipikal. Mukaddimah itu berbunyi begini... Pada suatu hari, di sebuah pulau, tinggal seekor chimpanzee bernama Bobo. Di atas pulau itu terdapat sebatang pokok kelapa yang amat tinggi menjulang. Tinggi pohon itu ibarat menara KLCC. Di hujung dahan pokok itu, terdapat beberapa biji buah kelapa muda yang sedang masak. <br /><br />Pada suatu hari, Bobo merasa amat dahaga. Maka Bobo pun bercadang untuk minum air kelapa bagi menghilangkan dahaga tersebut. Dengan menggunakan kemahiran memanjat yang telah dikurniakan sejak azali lagi, Bobo berjaya memanjat sehingga ke puncak pohon kelapa itu di dalam masa tidak sampai seminit. Tatkala tangannya cuba menggapai salah satu buah kelapa yang sedang masak itu, maka Tuhan mengizinkan angin La Nina bertiup kencang menghempas pulau tersebut. <br /><br />Bobo terhoyong-hayang di puncak pohon kelapa itu. Dia memeluk batang pokok itu serapat-rapatnya. Kemudian, datang pula taufan El Nino. Makin dahsyat goncangan yang terasa. Habis tercabut semua pelepah kelapa yang ada di puncak pohon tersebut. Namun, Bobo tetap istiqamah dan tidak melepaskan pelukannya yang erat itu. Lalu, diizinkan pula puting beliung bertiup melanda pulau kecil tersebut. Namun, makin ditiup, makin erat dakapan <br />Bobo pada pohon kelapa nan sebatang itu. <br /><br />Akhirnya, angin tidak bertiup lagi. Bobo merasa lega kerana akhirmya dia dapat menikmati jus kelapa muda yang mengiurkan itu. Namun, baru sahaja hujung jarinya menyentuh sebiji kelapa yang tertinggal di puncak dahan tersebut, Tuhan mengizinkan sejenis lagi angin bertiup. <br /><br />Kali ini, angin tidak lagi bertiup kencang. Sebaliknya angin itu bertiup sepoi-sepoi menyentuh ubun-ubunnya. Bobo merasa amat selesa. Perlahan-lahan genggamannya terlepas sedikit demi sedikit sehingga akhirnya Bobo tergelincir dan terus terjelepuk ke bawah. <br /><br />Mujur Tuhan belum mengizinkan malaikat maut untuk mencabut nyawa Bobo. Bobo terus bernyawa tetapi Bobo terpaksa hidup tempang. Akhirnya, Bobo hanya mampu mendongak ke atas, air liurnya berjejeran mengharap seteguk jus kelapa muda untuk menghilangkan dahaganya.za_imadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681137995890983125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8925193873975298412.post-56051775129583422802012-03-14T02:57:00.003-07:002012-03-14T03:17:30.069-07:00Reviu: Rayyan Fantasi<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqw9YjfU_iwH3SwWXpB_kyVvwA4VdFDeOk6R89NmnI6fuqr19WCdC-9E00ZuzFcbABNJSoJsnNPaS2aPhgVx3qdmjiMXmQoa8o9tupz3Y-ZPFJPO0tiNsexWZ5gnMw1zZlQ-06rwBVTq8/s1600/rayyan-fantasi.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqw9YjfU_iwH3SwWXpB_kyVvwA4VdFDeOk6R89NmnI6fuqr19WCdC-9E00ZuzFcbABNJSoJsnNPaS2aPhgVx3qdmjiMXmQoa8o9tupz3Y-ZPFJPO0tiNsexWZ5gnMw1zZlQ-06rwBVTq8/s200/rayyan-fantasi.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5719690238585163970" /></a><br /><br />Dengan tagline 'Apa yang terfikir itu ada', saya menjangkakan sebuah karya yang bisa mencabar minda daripada penulis ini. Mengikuti hasil tintanya sekian lama, karya-karya seperti Rahsia Perindu, Ungu Karmilla dan ADAM, mencetus fenomena karya thriller yang tidak membendung pemikiran pada sekadar jalan ceritanya. <br /><br />Namun begitu, usai membaca Rayyan Fantasi, saya masih tercari-cari apa yang sebenarnya cuba disampaikan oleh penulis. Jalan ceritanya mudah. Tidak bersimpang-siur kecuali pada teknik imbas kembali yang dipergunakan. Cuma sesekali penulis mencabar minda dengan rahsia hitam di Jajahan Karuh.<br /><br />'Apa yang terfikir itu ada' tidak tersampai dengan sepenuhnya. Seolah-olah ada sesuatu yang dibuat sambil lewa. Pembinaan karakter juga agak meleret-leret sehingga saya merasa mual dengan kisah cinta Feena dan Aiddin.<br /><br />Kesimpulannya, saya berpendapat RAM cuba bereksperimen dengan karya berbentuk sains fiksyen. Mungkin ini bukan niche yang sesuai bagi RAM. Identitinya agak tenggelam dan tidak bersinar ibarat karya-karyanya sebelum ini. Sebagai 'self-proclaimed' novelis thriller no. 1 di Malaysia, saya berharap RAM dapat menghasilkan karya yang lebih bijak dan mendidik.<br /><br />Tidaklah orang yang mengkritik ini lebih baik daripada yang dikritik. Wallahua'lam.za_imadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681137995890983125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8925193873975298412.post-78619988328911193962012-02-24T21:57:00.002-08:002012-02-24T22:04:11.817-08:00Pengumuman: Siri 'A Mu'allim and His Seasoned Car: Part 2'Dimaklumkan bahawa siri A Mu'allim and His Seasoned Car: Part 2 sudah pun terbit. Para Pengembara DZAI boleh mengikuti sambungan kisah tersebut dengan <a href="http://dzai-untold-story.blogspot.com/2012/02/muallim-and-his-seasoned-car-part-2.html">klik di sini</a>. Jangan lupa mengundi!za_imadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681137995890983125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8925193873975298412.post-987857246759456652012-02-24T01:03:00.002-08:002012-02-24T01:19:39.260-08:00Sedang Dibaca: Rayyan Fantasi<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn00tyfANDUpMRna0hhL4REO5fnoOiBDBp8twJqZbeSAw7v3fQilfM158CV9xagg8e0iXJIu_DTmjJ0DXdkUugcG1gRxXDHHkAghI-4Le08qUnDyPSWtqcEDLR5H45YSRbxSHq_2KknY8/s1600/rayyan-fantasi.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn00tyfANDUpMRna0hhL4REO5fnoOiBDBp8twJqZbeSAw7v3fQilfM158CV9xagg8e0iXJIu_DTmjJ0DXdkUugcG1gRxXDHHkAghI-4Le08qUnDyPSWtqcEDLR5H45YSRbxSHq_2KknY8/s200/rayyan-fantasi.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712625627103970434" /></a><br /><br />Jenama Ramlee Awang Mursheed (RAM) sudah sebati di dalam diri peminat-peminat novel thriller seperti saya. Tidak perlu melihat kepada sinopsis jauh sekali reviu pembaca-pembaca, tangan ini pantas menggapai naskhah karya RAM setiap kali buku itu mulai singgah di rak-rak kedai buku. <br /><br />Walau bagaimanapun, setelah lama mengikuti RAM, saya mula merasa jenama itu sahaja sudah tidak lagi mencukupi untuk memacu adrenalin saya setiap kali membaca karya beliau. <br /><br />Rayyan Fantasi masih lagi dibaca. Setakat ini, tidak nampak lagi kelainan yang cuba ditonjolkan di dalam cerita ini. Hampir separuh buku ini dibaca, jari-jemari saya tidak pula pantas menyelak helaian-helaian tertera. Saya merasa lebih sabar untuk menghabiskan cerita ini berbanding dengan karya-karya RAM sebelum ini. <br /><br />Mungkin pembacaan saya belum lagi sampai ke tahap fantasi saya dapat dijana dengan sepenuhnya. Apa-apa pun, saya akan terus membaca novel ini sehingga ke noktah terakhir. Mudah-mudahan ada manfaatnya.za_imadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681137995890983125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8925193873975298412.post-17507066660071060402012-02-05T19:36:00.001-08:002012-02-05T23:33:44.448-08:00Pengumuman: Bersosial di dalam Bahasa InggerisMemandangkan semakin banyak entri di dalam blog ini yang ditulis di dalam Bahasa Inggeris, maka saya telah mewujudkan sebuah blog khusus menggunakan bahasa tersebut. Blog tersebut boleh dilawati dengan <a href="http://dzai-untold-story.blogspot.com/view/classic">klik di sini</a>.<br /><br />Sebahagian entri berbahasa Inggeris yang ada di sini akan diposkan sekali lagi di dalam blog tersebut. Sementara itu blog ini akan lebih memfokus kepada dunia penulis, penulisan dan reviu buku.<br /><br />Terima kasih kerana terus menyokong DZAI!za_imadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681137995890983125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8925193873975298412.post-27619866999480788622011-11-22T08:18:00.000-08:002011-11-22T08:52:50.160-08:00The Untold Diary of A Mu'allim's Seasoned Car (Part 3)You scratch your head. It has been spontaneous for you to do that whenever you are seeking for some sort of enlightenment. <br /><br />You are looking for a conclusive solution. Therefore, you decide to make a phone call. The head scratching removes the blockade in your blood circulation around your cerebrum. You've got an idea. You call your dad. He has been your problem solver since you started to breathe.<br /><br />You listen closely to his suggestion, give a little thought about it and decide to take his advice. So, you try pull a wire or two on your engine and try to start it again. You succeed but you know it will not last long. <br /><br />Nervously, you drive the car to the nearest workshop. The time is ticking up. You need your Sweetheart to be repaired immediately. <br /><br />You tell the mechanic about your problem. He and a few others diagnose it. As they are doing their job, the Queen of Your Heart and your VIP wait on a torn couch inside the workshop. The smell of oil and smoke sticks up deep into your throat. You believe that your passengers feel the same if not worse. <br /><br />You move back and forth waiting anxiously the result of the diagnose. You are hoping that the damage is minor but as the time passes you know that you have to expect for the worst. <br /><br />You scratch your head again. You have an appointment to catch and the time is moving. You must make a move. Therefore you opt to... (To be continued)<br /><br /><div align="center"> <object width="300" height="400" wmode="transparent" data="http://apps.quibblo.com/static/flash/qwidget/qwidget.swf?s=&theme=quibblo&quiz=fRj39km" allownetworking="all" allowscriptaccess="never" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"> <param name="movie" value="http://apps.quibblo.com/static/flash/qwidget/qwidget.swf?s=&theme=quibblo&quiz=fRj39km"> <param name="allowscriptaccess" value="never"> <param name="allownetworking" value="all"> <param name="wmode" value="transparent"> <param name="bgcolor" value="ffffff"> </object> <br> <font size="1"> <a href="http://www.quibblo.com/">Quizzes</a> by <a href="">Quibblo.com</a> | <a href="http://www.snapapp.com/">SnapApp Quiz Apps</a></font> <img src="http://pxl.pmsrvr.com/posting_stats?d=www.quibblo.com&m=widget&c=404a8b6cfd56c7bfcd8e0a8cfadfd5f115ff07da&q=fRj39km" alt="" width="1" height="1" style="position:absolute;top:-3000px;left:-3000px;"> </div><br /><br />Vote now!za_imadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681137995890983125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8925193873975298412.post-11481730599848986382011-10-15T04:22:00.000-07:002011-10-16T02:05:20.817-07:00The Untold Diary of a Mu'allim's Seasoned Car (Part 2)<strong>Luckily, you manage to start your engine and continue with your journey.</strong><br /><br /><br />Your sigh of relief tells the whole story. However, the challenge doesn't end there.<br /><br />In a very short moment, your Sweetheart begins to show the same symptom again. The engine rumbles but the movement is not as smooth. It is as if someone is having hiccups. Your worriness turns to a nightmare. Once again, the engine stop.<br /><br />"Oh, no. Not again!" You say to yourself. The embarassment becomes unbearable. It grows into frustration and that frustration almost turns into anger.<br /><br />You move your Sweetheart to the side of the road. You open its hood and look at the engine trying to figure out what is really happening.<br /><br />As you are doing that, you start questioning yourself. Your Sweetheart seemed okay yesterday. It was okay early this morning when you were driving it to look out for breakfast. Then, why oh why does it become like this at this moment? Why must it shows problems when it matters the most?<br /><br />The questions are unsolved so as your search for the real problem of your Sweetheart. You are not a mechanic. You have to resolve to others to help you. You almost feel insignificant.<br /><br />You take a glance to the passengers' seat and you can see a look of concern from both your passengers. You can feel the burden weighing on your shoulder. You can almost feel that your feet are sinking into the earth. (To be continued...)<br /><br />What would you do? Cast your vote below.<br /><br /><div align="center"> <object width="300" height="400" wmode="transparent" data="http://apps.quibblo.com/static/flash/qwidget/qwidget.swf?s=&theme=quibblo&quiz=fH60Bxp" allownetworking="all" allowscriptaccess="never" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"> <param name="movie" value="http://apps.quibblo.com/static/flash/qwidget/qwidget.swf?s=&theme=quibblo&quiz=fH60Bxp"> <param name="allowscriptaccess" value="never"> <param name="allownetworking" value="all"> <param name="wmode" value="transparent"> <param name="bgcolor" value="ffffff"> </object> <br> <font size="1"> <a href="http://www.quibblo.com/">Quizzes</a> by <a href="http://www.quibblo.com/quiz/fH60Bxp/The-Untold-Diary-of-a-Muallims-Seasoned-Car-Part-2-What-would-you-do">Quibblo.com</a> | <a href="http://www.snapapp.com/">SnapApp Quiz Apps</a></font> <img src="http://pxl.pmsrvr.com/posting_stats?d=www.quibblo.com&m=widget&c=f7cf51fc6a91620177db2888bc4fdc36755f5b1d&q=fH60Bxp" alt="" width="1" height="1" style="position:absolute;top:-3000px;left:-3000px;"> </div>za_imadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681137995890983125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8925193873975298412.post-41637785527820379322011-09-27T03:09:00.000-07:002011-09-27T03:40:45.588-07:00The Untold Story of A Mu'allim: LostHe owned a pen. He used it to mark his students' books, tick the attendance, draft his meeting minutes, and write something into his diary. One day, he lost the pen. He borrowed it to someone and that someone passed it to another person and so on.<br /><br />A moment later, he realised that the pen was missing. He tried to track it to the first person who borrowed it. That person said, "Oh, I passed it to another person. Maybe you can ask him."<br /><br />So, he asked the next person. To his dissappointment, that person also had no clue of the whereabout of the pen as he thought that he had left it somewhere for someone to take it.<br /><br />He kept on looking. He went around here and there like a cat missing its kittens but to no avail. He went back to the first person who borrowed the pen. That person asked him, "Why are you so gloomy? It is just another pen."<br /><br />He sighed and looked at his friend.<br /><br />"Well my friend, it is just another pen. It's not the pen that I am worried about. I am worried about myself."<br /><br />"Yourself? Why?" His friend looked confused.<br /><br />"My friend, I am a teacher. A mu'allim."<br /><br />"So, do I," said his friend.<br /><br />"My friend, imagine that the pen is one of my students. One day, that student will be passed on to another teacher. He will bring together whatever I've thought him. He will bring along my legacy. However, I have failed to make sure that the student is handed over to the right person and thus I've lost him. I don't know what will happen to him. My friend, I've failed to make sure that I can take care of thing as small as a pen. What is the guarantee that I can take care of something bigger?"<br /><br />His friend swallowed the thing said by the mu'allim. Eventually, he said, "Indeed, my friend. It is a lost for both you and I. It is OUR lost."za_imadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681137995890983125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8925193873975298412.post-33330647816908445962011-08-23T00:43:00.000-07:002011-10-15T04:17:41.643-07:00Crossover: The Untold Diary of A Mu'allim's Seasoned Car (Part 1)You are moving to the next phase of your life. You put together a plan towards that phase. Today, an important event is going to materialise. You are nervous but prepared. Someone really important is going to be there. It makes you feel more nervous. You take a deep breath and pray to God that everything will go smoothly.<br /><br />You take your Sweetheart; a seasoned car which age is the same as yours. You love your ride but you know its capability better than anyone else. Bringing together that important person on that ride has become a big concern for you. You whisper to your Sweetheart, "Please, I need this. Please bear with me."<br /><br />As the engine starts, it begins to rumble. So, as your heart. You bring together The Queen of Your Heart because you need her to be there for both you and that important person. You finally pick up that important person and start the first journey together inside your Sweetheart.<br />Suddenly, something happens. Your sweetheart seems cannot carry on with the journey. True enough, not too far away, it stops.<br /><br />You're really embarrassed. You can feel that one of the passengers behind is staring at you. You try not to look back. You are too terrified.<br /><br />"Come on Sweetheart! Don't do this to me!" Your heart is crying out loud. You push the ignition key a few times to get the engine starts again but to no avail.<br /><br />You sigh. You can feel that your plan for today crumbles into pieces.<br /><br />You take another deep breath. You try not to give up. No matter what, things must go as planned.<br /><br />You hold your key and start to push it one last time.... (To be continued)<br /><br />So, what will happen next? Cast your vote below.<br /><br /><div align="center"> <object width="300" height="400" wmode="transparent" data="http://apps.quibblo.com/static/flash/qwidget/qwidget.swf?s=&theme=quibblo&quiz=fFsfobm" allownetworking="all" allowscriptaccess="never" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"> <param name="movie" value="http://apps.quibblo.com/static/flash/qwidget/qwidget.swf?s=&theme=quibblo&quiz=fFsfobm"> <param name="allowscriptaccess" value="never"> <param name="allownetworking" value="all"> <param name="wmode" value="transparent"> <param name="bgcolor" value="ffffff"> </object> <br> <font size="1"> <a href="http://www.quibblo.com/">Quizzes</a> by <a href="">Quibblo.com</a> | <a href="http://www.snapapp.com/">SnapApp Quiz Apps</a></font> <img src="http://pxl.pmsrvr.com/posting_stats?d=www.quibblo.com&m=widget&c=2528191367d74111e90c0063b643966441b3c87b&q=fFsfobm" alt="" width="1" height="1" style="position:absolute;top:-3000px;left:-3000px;"> </div>za_imadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681137995890983125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8925193873975298412.post-10554979246653368632011-06-27T07:17:00.000-07:002011-06-27T07:57:01.991-07:00The Diary of A Seasoned Car: 555<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicz0XkShqEEZzWTFNz-y-47y-89ANquci2RxZfHQvEbhswTC9hpNvQgOwemkNkcZ54_JQftD7m99N4mQ_T54GZ_cauKZTFr5hikC9L-bQttzzg_swcJzkxuUNk5dYpWwiY1WgM0XEUAA8/s1600/DSC0000009.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622903957271373490" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicz0XkShqEEZzWTFNz-y-47y-89ANquci2RxZfHQvEbhswTC9hpNvQgOwemkNkcZ54_JQftD7m99N4mQ_T54GZ_cauKZTFr5hikC9L-bQttzzg_swcJzkxuUNk5dYpWwiY1WgM0XEUAA8/s200/DSC0000009.jpg" /></a>It felt like sailing a boat on a wavy ocean when driving this car. The absorbers had lost its function. I'd been considering to change them for a while.<br /><br />So, finally I decided to do it. The comfort of my potential passengers was my motivation. Furthermore, I might take this car for a long journey in the near future.<br /><br />However, the budget was a little bit overshot. It was my ignorance that I did not make an adequate research for the best workshop with the best price. It was a little bit impromptu.<br /><br />Earlier in the morning, I went to another workshop to replace the damage front number plate. The plan after that was to replace one of the door knob. Halfway through I changed my mind. My mind was actually elsewhere. I was thinking about a potential passenger. And then the thought of replacing the absorbers suddenly became imminent.<br /><br />Money was not a real issue. I had my savings and with that money I went to a workhsop in Bandar Baru Bangi to have the job done to the car.<br /><br />To my dissappointment, it took them almost 3 hours to get the job done which was about 2 hours and 15 minutes later than what had been promised. There were even additional charges to the charge that had been initially agreed. Contractually, I could have cancelled the service. However, the work was half done (They had disassembled the necessary parts before leaving the car like that for me to wait for almost 2 hours. Great tactics!). Should I revoke the contract, I would be in a very disadvantagous position. They could leave it like that and let me reassemble the parts myself! Should I decide to continue, I had to pay a hefty price, yet affordable, for their service. Either way, I was sucker punched.<br /><br />However, considering the lesser of the two evils, I took the latter. I'd get at them back later. From RM 490 to RM 561 to RM 555, I felt like I had been conned. I could only blame my stupidity should that feeling was not just a feeling. I admitted that I couldn't really think straight that day.<br /><br />At the end of the day, no more wavy ride of the car. It felt better than before when driving it on bumpy roads. But at RM 555? I felt like that amount should had been put in a small tiny book called '555'. Well, lesson learnt; Do not go to an unfamiliar workshop to get your car repaired and when you couldn't think straight, avoid riding a seasoned car.za_imadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681137995890983125noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8925193873975298412.post-86961692767537582462011-06-19T01:14:00.000-07:002011-06-19T02:11:51.805-07:00The Untold Story of A Mu'allim: The Truth<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhszoSAJ50HNlhhBcuiUSXx1kMrCTxKVDZt4b57CROKoSAYcvuueSjweTCHE6zgVPl9z0tH0U855Js5htWdEgD7HGtCF27v1WDx8f8yCqRltn9SkqeTbmxipHI779Yh4V-eZTPTgWZffU4/s1600/stop+sign+1.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5619842176020428850" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhszoSAJ50HNlhhBcuiUSXx1kMrCTxKVDZt4b57CROKoSAYcvuueSjweTCHE6zgVPl9z0tH0U855Js5htWdEgD7HGtCF27v1WDx8f8yCqRltn9SkqeTbmxipHI779Yh4V-eZTPTgWZffU4/s200/stop+sign+1.jpg" /></a> A lecturer once told him.<br /><br />"There are two types of truth. The truth and the real truth."<br /><br />The statement caused him to raise his eyebrow, "What's the difference?"<br /><br />The lecturer said, "Well, you see... when two persons argue, both of them are telling the story based on their own exclusive perceptions and evidence, if any. What they present are the truth exclusively to themselves. Why? Because they believe it to be the truth."<br /><br />"Okay," he said. "But then, how do we get to know the real truth?"<br /><br />"It's all about belief. Which facts are more believable to both parties."<br /><br />He chuckled, "I guess we won't find the real truth then."<br /><br />"Well, I guess that's the painful truth that we have to accept, isn't it?"<br /><br />There's only one thing about the truth that he know. It hurts. Recently, he had a 'Meet the parents' session at his workplace. It was a time where the performance of the students will be revealed to the parents. He thought this was a really good opportunity to dig up the real problems of his students, if any. He needed to know of any space that he could use to improvise both himself and his beloved students.<br /><br />He had positive meetings with the parents. Both him and the parents knew that they share the same goal. To build a better tomorrow. The children are the future, there is no doubt about it. A parent told him in Malay, "Teacher, you can do anything to my child. Punish him if necessary. You can do anything as long as you don't break his bones. I just want my child to be a better person."<br /><br />While he was not a keen supporter of physical force to use againts a 10-year-old child, he was left numb witnessing the determination of the parents to see their children to become better persons. Their eyes were glaring with hopes. He felt burdened but it was a burden that he had to carry when he decided to hold the title as a teacher. That's the truth.<br /><br />However, in a very isolated case, a guardian of one of his students just couldn't accept the truth. The meeting was very short. There was not much talking. The guardian just asked him to pass the student's examination result. The guardian took off his spectacles and seemed to scrutinize it. He glanced at the student. She didn't look back at him. Her face was gloomy. That gloomy face left him wondering the reason behind it.<br /><br />Then, without even asking him to explain the result, the guardian started to curse. Unpleasant words were heard. He hoped that only he could heard the guardian's voice. So, he took the best measure for the moment. Keep smiling and let the guardian talk. After all the mumbling finished, the guardian took off without even saying thank you.<br /><br />He felt so devastated and terrified. He was terrified with the truth that the guardian was trying to convey. He didn't have the chance to know the real problem of this particular student and the guardian was so overwhelmed with his emotion to even try to discuss what really went wrong.<br /><br />The beautiful world crumbled before his eyes all of the sudden. He was humbled by the truth. It is indeed painful to accept the truth.za_imadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681137995890983125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8925193873975298412.post-61190735154444044462011-06-06T01:22:00.000-07:002011-06-06T02:06:28.135-07:00Singapura Yang Tidak Kukenali: Ubah<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipaR6moLf-KA2lFith3_uWGHk7CaDySufErt3aGfo_7WmahOEDJTWfXb7wCaoWGufhdduTHR75BRVBZZtSGJl4anw6ID8dtbgnsgfhtfjMARX71npA2a7YLIdpMVc_K19AObaiTWf9Uwg/s1600/P140210_12.32.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615021765333395602" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipaR6moLf-KA2lFith3_uWGHk7CaDySufErt3aGfo_7WmahOEDJTWfXb7wCaoWGufhdduTHR75BRVBZZtSGJl4anw6ID8dtbgnsgfhtfjMARX71npA2a7YLIdpMVc_K19AObaiTWf9Uwg/s200/P140210_12.32.jpg" /></a>Walaupun memegang taraf warganegara Singapura, tidak banyak yang boleh saya ceritakan tentang negara tersebut. Negara itu tidak lebih daripada Bedok Reservoir yang merupakan kejiranan di mana nyai tinggal ataupun taman permainan di Blok 9 Holland Avenue yang menjadi tempat saya bermain bersama-sama adik-adik dan juga sepupu saya setiap kali pulang ke negara ini. Singapura bagi saya tidak lebih daripada kunjungan hari raya ke rumah sanak-saudara ataupun menziarahi saudara terdekat yang meninggal dunia.<br /><br /><br /><div>Jadi, apabila saya pulang ke Singapura, pasti ada sahaja perkara janggal yang akan saya temui. Negara ini cukup pantas berubah; orangnya, insfrastrukturnya, budayanya... Setiap kali saya pulang, ada sahaja bangunan baru yang naik. Kalau dahulu tidak ada Marina Bay Sands, sekarang tempat berkumpulnya tahi-tahi judi itu menjadi sebuah destinasi utama yang menjana ekonomi Singapura. Peluang-peluang pekerjaan terbuka luas dengan pembukaan tempat-tempat seperti itu. Ada yang menjadi penyambut tetamu, ada yang menjadi GRO, ada yang menjadi pembancuh arak, ada yang menjadi tukang cuci, ada yang menjadi pemandu, oh, pintu rezeki terbuka luas di sana. Berpusu-pusu gerombolan anak muda ke sana untuk mencari sesuap rezeki. Hasil yang diperolehi menjadi darah daging masing-masing. Darah daging anak-anak. Darah daging cucu-cucu. Cukup hasil itu untuk dirasai oleh 7 keturunan yang seterusnya. Hasil yang dijana daripada judi dan arak. </div><br /><br /><div>Bayangkan apa akan jadi Singapura di masa akan datang? Generasi-generasi yang darah dagingnya terpalit dengan hasil judi dan arak. </div><br /><br /><div>Perubahan-perubahan yang saya lihat itu sudah tidak menjadi satu kehairanan lagi. Saya tidak hairan lagi apabila masyarakat Singapura tidak lagi mempunyai tatasusila ketimuran. Saudara-saudara seagama saya juga tidak segan silu membuat maksiat malah ada pula yang mendabik dada membuka pekung masing-masing. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Tatkala saya meniti pinggiran Sungai Singapura, saya terpaku kepada tugu Stamford Raffles yang ada di situ. Masa depan beginikah yang dirancang oleh penjajah Inggeris ini? Masa depan yang dipenuhi dengan tahi-tahi judi, kaki botol, penzina dan anak-anak luar nikah? Nyata jika demikian, agenda penjajahan itu masih berjalan seperti yang dirancang. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Setiap kali menyeberangi tambak, saya akan menoleh ke pulau kerdil itu. Entah mengapa, setiap kali saya menoleh, pulau itu kelihatan semakin kerdil. Mungkin inilah perubahan yang paling jelas dapat lihat. Kekerdilan.</div><br /><div></div>za_imadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681137995890983125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8925193873975298412.post-22526255808398793562011-06-03T08:47:00.000-07:002011-06-03T09:03:24.018-07:00The Diary of A Seasoned Car: Blinded<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_dX3W4vAgKvkIcFGoUay96eQn5lZwtrhhd5_E61NlgbBgYHGLCVu98vDRNQVSvNiIzkicZpXBqd3U-XX_64GhOeCBL1oswu-C7V2Ga817HSwzJWtWn-uoGqohS6ZLXeHdZWcw7K0BA5o/s1600/DSC0000006.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614021465583973634" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_dX3W4vAgKvkIcFGoUay96eQn5lZwtrhhd5_E61NlgbBgYHGLCVu98vDRNQVSvNiIzkicZpXBqd3U-XX_64GhOeCBL1oswu-C7V2Ga817HSwzJWtWn-uoGqohS6ZLXeHdZWcw7K0BA5o/s200/DSC0000006.jpg" /></a>The journey continued. A few days earlier, recklessness had costed it 'an eye'. Immediate replacement was necessary as without the 'eye', the vision would be blinded when darkness falls.<br /><br />After replacing the exhaust pipe, the next stop was a place to change the right front light of the car. The first visit to a scrapped car cemetery was not fruitful.<br /><br />The search resumed to a nearby a workshop in Kajang. The place was suggested by the mechanic who repaired the exhaust pipe. True enough, it was much easier to find spare parts for the seasoned car there. It took about 3o minutes for the light to be replaced and the cost was reasonable.<br /><br />Although it was not an original part, at least the view will no longer be blinded.za_imadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681137995890983125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8925193873975298412.post-49519748119338035382011-05-31T22:09:00.000-07:002011-05-31T22:37:24.502-07:00The Untold Story of A Mu'allim: Starry Night<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1EqdITw6U6qkFnaACWQKDSy7_0Z5GDJ-PS_2mCZIEtE7li9oZxPYrcNIpH5iWUILO1v3nU02Wpx6irgZkHGUWOL89oqXiLPX9gDstq6zfabwOY1GKF4UjILvBfa1u9qx-Gnx0WVy57wM/s1600/CIMG1116.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613115160980303474" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1EqdITw6U6qkFnaACWQKDSy7_0Z5GDJ-PS_2mCZIEtE7li9oZxPYrcNIpH5iWUILO1v3nU02Wpx6irgZkHGUWOL89oqXiLPX9gDstq6zfabwOY1GKF4UjILvBfa1u9qx-Gnx0WVy57wM/s200/CIMG1116.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div>There were hundreds of them in front of him. All eyes were on him. They awaited eagerly. He made them wait. He screened the floor. It was always the youngs sitting at the front. No stage was necessary to make him feel superior. He could just feel it. That nostalgic feeling. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>It had been years since the last time he was doing this. He was really nervous about it. He thought his time was over but when an old friend came knocking on his door, he couldn't say no. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>It wasn't a big part that he played that night. Yet, it was a really significant moment. He wasn't the real star that night. The real star was a group from a neighbourhood country. He knew little about them before they met eye to eye but when they did, he realised that they had one thing in common. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>He couldn't thank more to all the people involved that night; his partner who had been brilliant with his artistic instinct, the organisers, an old friend and of course the real gem that night, Izzatul Islam. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>He almost couldn't believe it that, the event that night went really smoothly despite the impromptu preparations. There was not enough time, not enough people to handle the event and considering the nature of event, there was not enough time to prepare for it but yet it still happened. It only took him a glance to the sky to figure out whose hands were handling those difficulties. Subhanallah!</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>The night felt beautiful and he thought of what more wonders awaiting in the future.</div>za_imadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681137995890983125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8925193873975298412.post-47142657830509655942011-05-23T05:10:00.001-07:002011-05-23T05:39:00.553-07:00The Untold Story of A Mu'allim: Dream<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhTG3sWPKCbaJT8M7vr7fV_hIJ6CpKuj2d7RXzkCKZvYNMVoqGyJ-tJJxZyTgaOb37Y0EHQ_dFLSkcNKS-rWKC1k4a9ibLQI97xPlXld3L6Mj01U-e1aeUE7fQ7I3HZjg32cn1Xx_Xi_w/s1600/DSCF0007.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609883465970805970" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhTG3sWPKCbaJT8M7vr7fV_hIJ6CpKuj2d7RXzkCKZvYNMVoqGyJ-tJJxZyTgaOb37Y0EHQ_dFLSkcNKS-rWKC1k4a9ibLQI97xPlXld3L6Mj01U-e1aeUE7fQ7I3HZjg32cn1Xx_Xi_w/s200/DSCF0007.JPG" /></a>He was there wearing an expensive black suit. Black and white. He didn't really love the colour but still he could feel the pride in wearing it. Sitting beside him was a really nervous defendant. He believed that guy was innocent. <br /><div></div><br /><div>It was time for the man in wig to give his judgment. Innocent. He inhaled deeply to surpress his excitement and exhaled in relief. He looked at the opponent and smiled triumphantly. Justice had been served. It was like a dream. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>To his horror, it really was nothing but a dream. He couldn't afford those expensive suits. He had never been inside a real court. The nearest he had been was the lobby. It was just a dream. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>The reality was far from that. The reality was he woke up early everyday and drove his seasoned car to a place he had never dreamt of before. The school. It was his battlefield with everyday struggles while craving for his dream to become true. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>That struggles made him almost forget about his shattered dream. He had become more and more attached to the school. The people, the children, the place. There was something about this place that made him felt safe. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Until one day, that dream came knocking again. He was about to begin his class when one of his children asked him a question.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>"Teacher, did you ever dream of being here?"</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>He couldn't answer the question. He couldn't lie too. With a fake smile he tried to swallow the reality. It was painful as hell.</div>za_imadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681137995890983125noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8925193873975298412.post-83839043783206812922011-05-21T19:01:00.000-07:002011-05-21T19:39:14.032-07:00The Diary of A Seasoned Car: Roar!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj78ICPyl9OeBFZ2mx-RpVnVkBGBcULEELySPusZtvWXGxEzXG3XY_kzinmQWSilXjliTShidWzDSJpBM6AtqSAru5G0qFDa2OYE9PK3E77Hv89bAeD0Viglo9zBT0RJhd0vkG1q2a1j5c/s1600/DSC0000005.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609355864751654066" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj78ICPyl9OeBFZ2mx-RpVnVkBGBcULEELySPusZtvWXGxEzXG3XY_kzinmQWSilXjliTShidWzDSJpBM6AtqSAru5G0qFDa2OYE9PK3E77Hv89bAeD0Viglo9zBT0RJhd0vkG1q2a1j5c/s200/DSC0000005.jpg" /></a> Nissan Sunny 120Y. That 1983 model car was as old as the driver. Rusty voices annoyingly disturbed other road users. Such nuisance was understandable. The driver understood it. <br /><div></div><br /><div>The engine was still working although the strenght was fading. He loved the car and decided it was to time for a total make-over.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Considering his financial ability, he had to do it phase by phase. First of all, he wanted to get rid of the noisy roaring caused by some leakage to the exhaust pipe. That thing had to be replaced. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>The journey began at 10.30 am in a serene Saturday morning. He didn't really know where to go so he asked his old man to facilitate him. Together, they went to the usual mechanic. Due to lack of tools and equipments, the mechanic suggested another workshop and they took the advice.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Situated at the side of Jalan Reko, the workshop was easy to find. There was a lot of exhaust pipes could be seen inside it. As described by the usual mechanic, they were the specialists. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>They took less than an hour to make the repair. At the cost of RM 150, the annoying coughing was no more. The car was partly revived. The driver was fully satistfied. TG could be 'young' again.</div>za_imadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681137995890983125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8925193873975298412.post-19004393934878621852011-05-16T16:11:00.000-07:002011-05-16T16:41:34.964-07:00The Untold Story of A Mu'allim: Teacher's Day<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2EjjiBxKUeEU0ADyUNYOcrYrLyaTvDA8I2noOuYE95fliJoQP6nG6JhHaeVwRoLFjx1AH5AkB-660hl5JP8kjr_s3tNDuEGwJT-GdsO9QGrY_zPCAY-HznOp9CnUuZARzPGzFDIwTnkw/s1600/CIMG1059.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607456641412944258" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2EjjiBxKUeEU0ADyUNYOcrYrLyaTvDA8I2noOuYE95fliJoQP6nG6JhHaeVwRoLFjx1AH5AkB-660hl5JP8kjr_s3tNDuEGwJT-GdsO9QGrY_zPCAY-HznOp9CnUuZARzPGzFDIwTnkw/s200/CIMG1059.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div>Once upon a time, he used to persuade his parents to buy a lot of gifts for his teachers. He eagerly wrapped the presents with the help of his mother. The wrapping looked clumsy but there was no question about his sincerity. He loved his teachers. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>This time around, things were different. Instead of wrapping a present, he would be doing the opposite. His hands were full with presents. His stomach, with foods. It was not just him. His colleagues were also having the same symptoms. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>From day one, the feeling blossomed into something mutual. Love. He became more and more attached to the children, something he tried to avoid when he stepped into this profession. It was not because he hated commitment. It was a necessity. He realised one day, he would have to leave them. He would hurt them so bad to make him regret it for the rest of his life. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>The future for him was an irony. He wanted the children to become better persons than him but at the same time he was terrified that he would have no chance to see it with his own eyes.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>He sat on at a corner with a plate of unfinished moist chocolate cake on the table. He looked at his children happily chatting with each other while enjoying the meals. Slowly he tried to swallow the painful reality. Slowly he wonder the pleasure behind such pain.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>He was waiting for a present. A special present.</div>za_imadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681137995890983125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8925193873975298412.post-42649918984008397922011-05-15T03:03:00.000-07:002011-05-15T03:36:20.631-07:00The Untold Story of A Mu'allim: English Week<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitYsy6GjAReEaMxYCM0jxzTmCayIHsvU_Hig3U1prFbSnYWZHbqwRAqgOJgimEflOCmqtj8z48gaseWSmvIdOP8_uDyLwtdrk_Zuvu-9rSmP7knTql-igM8vjRlN26IsY0RZdBAUNgyXE/s1600/stop+sign+2.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 134px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 140px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606882089201413042" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitYsy6GjAReEaMxYCM0jxzTmCayIHsvU_Hig3U1prFbSnYWZHbqwRAqgOJgimEflOCmqtj8z48gaseWSmvIdOP8_uDyLwtdrk_Zuvu-9rSmP7knTql-igM8vjRlN26IsY0RZdBAUNgyXE/s200/stop+sign+2.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div>Teaching English as a second language was not an easy task. We had to pause several times to make sure that what we taught was listened to and understood. It was a really challenging task. Patience was always at stake. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>So, creative ways were invented to ensure effective learning. Children nowadays are different. A thin rattan cane is not the immediate answer to their development unlike old days. A pinch on their cheek and the teachers will start receiving enormous assault from the parents. That's one of the biggest challenge in a profession as a teacher. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>All that angers were kept deep inside their hard. Slowly, they developed a rationale and overcame that disturbing emotion. God created humans with special ability. A mind to think and a heart to emphatise. It was a really tiring process for some but as teachers, it was inevitable. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Thus, he joined the other teachers under the English Panitia brainstorming the best creative ways to make learning English cool. Again, the process was energy and time consuming. They managed to meet twice to finally deliver the best activities for English Week. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>The pre-event went as planned. He filled the school building with promotional posters. Students started asking him questions. He just smiled and said, "Just wait for it. It's something BIG!"</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>As the event kicked off however, not all thing went as planned especially with the activities in which he was in charge. There was a lot of last minutes changes. Things became a little bit out of his hands. Oh, he felt so sorry for those children who were really eager to join the fun but yet he had to deny them. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Despite that defect (he knew none from others), all in all, English Week had became an illustrious event for him since joining this profession. He saw the unexpected. The Speaker's Corner was hot and sizzling with unpolished talents. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>It was a really fun week. The teachers really worked hand in hand to make the event successful. He had never seen such enthusiasm before. They really loved their job and he hope he could imitate such passion throughout the remainder of his tenure here.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>The only regret was however, he still felt that he had yet to fully deliver. He knew there are still more of him inside. He just needs to discover. Yes, he must.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>He must dream BIG, plan BIGGER and achieve the BIGGEST. And the BIGGEST achievement is of course, MARDHATILLAH. </div>za_imadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681137995890983125noreply@blogger.com1