The Need to wear a Glove

Last Friday, 13th February 09, after taking my 'wuduk' at Masjid Sahabah at Section 7 in Kota Damansara for my weekly Friday Prayer, my youngest son, Anuar asked me why I did that. He asked me not because he was ignorant of the fact that a Muslim must take his "wuduk" (cleans himself) before he starts his "solat" (prayer). He asked me because from his previous observations, I didn't take my "wuduk" at the mosque. I took it at my office before I left for the Friday prayer. I just smiled at him and told him that my earlier "wuduk" had been annulled ("batal"). It had to be retaken to ensure that I would be a "clean" person again to face the Almighty in my prayer.

Before I go further let me explain a bit what "wuduk" is all about. As defined by Wikipedia, Wudu (Arabic: الوضوء al-wuḍū', Persian:آبدست ābdast, Turkish: abdest, Urdu: وضو wazū') is the Islamic act of washing parts of the body using water. Muslims are required to be clean in preparation for ritual prayers. The Qur'an says "For Allah loves those who turn to Him constantly and He loves those who keep themselves pure and clean.". Muslims are also required to be clean when handling and reading the Qur'an. The Qur'an says "Which none shall touch but those who are clean". Wudu is often translated as "partial ablution", as opposed to ghusl, or "full ablution".

Wuduk is performed by following a certain procedure in washing one's face, hands, ears, hair and the feet. Little did Anuar knew that just about 10 minutes before I fetched him and his brother Amin from the house, my "wuduk" had been annulled by the "touching" incidence with the opposite sex at the Kota Damansara Toll Plaza exit. You see, my Touch N Go card only had 30 sen left (RM0.30) and the fact that PLUS had changed its top-up service between the period from 9.00 am to 4.00 pm had not made it easier for me to top up the card's credit. Thus, until such times that I could top up the card again, I had to enter and leave the Toll Plaza the "manual" way, that is, to collect a ticket on entry and pay for the trip on exit at the next Toll Plaza .

That day on the way into the Subang Jaya Toll Plaza, I collected the ticket but felt my hand rubbed against that of the person at the Toll Plaza. But I didn't realised whether that person was a "he" or a "she." So I said to myself that since I couldn't identify the sex of the person, my "wuduk" should still be valid. Before I reached the Kota Damansara Toll Plaza exit, I prepared the RM1.20 in advance to pay for the toll. So when I reached the Toll Plaza, I tried to hand over the RM1.20 "cleanly"; "cleanly" in the sense that her skin won't have to rub against mine, you see. But somehow she must have sensed my great effort in trying to hand over the money "cleanly" to her. Therefore, it's just natural that she reciprocated by grabbing the money instead of taking it. In the process, the money and my hand was also "grabbed" by her, thereby rendering my "wuduk" to be null and void ("batal").

Sorry, I forgot to explain earlier on that the state of cleanliness of one's "wuduk" would be annulled if one performs one of the following acts :-

1. Defecation, passing gas or urination.
2. Emission of semen.
3. Sleep.
4. Passing blood.
5. Vomiting.
6. Loss of senses.
7. Fainting
8. Touching the skin of the opposite sex (of marriageable status)

And that is why I have to take my "wuduk" again because my skin touched hers at the Toll Plaza.

This incidence kept me thinking that Highway Concessionaires should really ask their staffs at the Toll Plaza to wear a glove each. I did come across female staffs at some Toll Plazas wearing glove, but most of them did not. I had never come across a male staff wearing the glove, though. The reason why the female staff at some Toll Plazas were wearing their gloves was most likely not because she wanted to maintain the validity of her "wuduk" but more so because she didn't want her hand to be infected with germs or dirt from the motorist during the transaction.

Therefore it makes good sense for the Highway Concessionaires to encourage their Toll Plaza staffs to wear glove, not because they want to avoid annulling the motorists' "wuduk", but more so due to health; because if a Toll Plaza staff contracts a disease during the transaction with an infected motorists, the particular staff has to go on medical leave, and therefore her employer will incur losses in terms of working hours and medical bills.

However, I can't wait for the Toll Plaza staffs to wear glove. I have to buy a pair of glove myself so that every Friday I won't have to retake my "wuduk" when I go to a mosque to perform the Friday prayer.

Where is my Kampung?

Assalamualaikum,

"Where are you from?" or "where is your kampung?" is always the standard question asked by someone whom you have just met in a conversation.

The Wikipedia defines the term "kampung" as "a Malay hamlet or village in a Malay-speaking country" In other words, a kampung is defined today as a village in Brunei, Indonesia or Malaysia.

The Wikipedia continues to say that in Malaysia, a kampung is determined as a locality with 10,000 or fewer people. Since historical times, every Malay village came under the leadership of a penghulu (village chief), who has the power to hear civil matters in his village. A Malay village typically contains a "masjid" (mosque) or "surau" (Muslim chapel), stilt houses and paddy fields. Malay villagers practice the culture of helping one another as a community, which is better known as "joint bearing of burdens" (gotong royong), as well as being family-oriented (especially the concept of respecting one's family, particularly the parents and elders), courtesy and believing in God ("Tuhan") as paramount to
everything else. It is common to see a "kubor" (Muslim cemetery) near the mosque, as all Muslims in the Malay village want to be prayed for, and to receive Allah's blessings in the afterlife.

Having said that, a kampung is therefore our origin, where we were born probably and also where we grew up and spent most of our early schooling years there. A kampung is also where our parents settle down for good.

Whenever we have the opportunity, a kampung is where we return to spend the time with our parents, relatives and friends, who grew up and played together with us in the kampung. There is no other preferable way to spend the time during the holidays than to "balik kampung" (return to our parents' house in the village) whether we were at college, university or working somewhere else at that time. A kampung can also be said to be the focul point for "silaturrahim" (maintaining close relationship amongst friends and relatives), where all the brothers, sisters and close relatives get together as often as possible, especially during festivals like the Aidil Fitri, Aidil Adha or marriage ceremonies of those very close to the family. For as long as one of the parents is still alive, the "spirit" of the "balik kampung" still remains, that is, the joy of looking forward to return to the kampung.

Now, back to the question of where my kampung is. You see, I was born in Singapore at the customs quarters at Kampung Bahru Road. Later on my parents rented a house in Kg. Bukit Kasita. I studied at the Radin Mas Primary School from Standard 1 to Standard 5. So it can be said that my kampung at that time was Kampung Bukit Kasita in Singapore.

In 1963, my late father was transferred to Johor Bahru. At first, we were staying in the Government's quarters at Jalan Larkin. Later on, my late father bought a house at Jalan Kasawari, Larkin Lama, Johor Bahru. I continued my studies at Sekolah Rendah Temenggung Abdul Rahman. At the end of 1964, my class teacher, Mrs. Maniam recommended me to sit for an examination for selection to study at MCKK (Malay College Kuala Kangsar). I was one of the successful candidates to be selected, the other one being my classmate, Abdullah bin Abdul Hamid.

So whenever I was asked where my kampung was during my 5-year study period in MCKK, I would answer that it was Johor Bahru. Fellow Johoreans at MCKK thus thought that I was a pure Johorean.

In 1970, I was given a scholarship to study for a diploma in Brighton Technical College in the United Kingdom. Two years later, I went to London to study for my enginering degree at King's College (University of London). While I was there, whenever I was asked by any Malaysian about my kampung, I would say that it was in Johor Bahru.

While I was studyng in London, my late father was transferred to Lumut in Perak. Subsequently my late father bought a piece of land at Kampung Kurnia in Tronoh, Perak and built a house there. "It's going to be my retirement place." said my late father. So after that, Lumut and subsequently Tronoh in Perak became my kampung. In the meantime, my mother continued to stay in the house in Johor Bahru. So technically speaking, I had two kampungs at that time, one in Perak and the other one in Johor. It wasn't very long thereafter that the house in Johor Bahru was sold and therefore Kg. Kurnia at Tronoh in Perak became my latest kampung.

My late father was born in Lubok Merbau in Kuala Kangsar, Perak. My late mother was born in Batu Berendam in Melaka. My late mum was a "baba nyonya" which explained the Chinese look in me. So by right I should have a kampung in Melaka too. But it was not to be that way for the story as was told by my late mum was that she was "disowned" by her parents when she married my late dad. She never returned to Melaka to meet her parents again after that except to visit her two elder brothers, Pak Long and Pak Ngah, who had also embraced Islam at the same time as her.

I still have some relatives residing in Melaka who are descendents from my late Pak Ngah. Until today, whenever I meet a nyonya-baba or baba-nyonya from Melaka, I wonder whether he or she is related to my late mother.

When we grew up, we got married and have children. We eventually establish our own kampung by buying a house of our own. We spend lesser and lesser time to "balik kampung" after both our parents had passed away.

Almost all of my brothers and sisters have committed themselves to have their own kampungs by buying a house at the place chosen by them. Therefore, during the holidays, their own childen visit them, just like they visited their own parents when their parents were still alive.

As for me, I do not have a house to settle down yet. All my life I had been travelling and working at different places and I was never at a place for more than 4 years. However, my wife and I are building a house in Dungun and most likely we will settle down in Dungun for good and call it our kampung.

So in the meantime, what shall I say if someone is to ask me where my kampung is? :-)

My Trip to Putrajaya

Assalamualaikum,

My second son Josef, who is studying medicine in Moscow, Russia has been pestering me to send to him the "NOC" (No Objection Certificate), which he says, is required by his university.

So last Tuesday, 3rd February 2009, I took the Kancil car and drove to Putrajaya, which is the center of the Malaysian Government Departments.

It was at first a decision of whether I should take the Volvo, which was parked at my office in Shah Alam, by taking the LRT/train to Batu 3 first and then walked for 15 minutes to my office to get the car. Or whether to drive directly there with either my wife's Kancil or Persona. I finally decided to go there with the Kancil because it consumed the least amount of petrol and saved me the traveling time in the LRT/train. It would also be easy for me to find a parking space for a Kancil at Putrajaya. I was thinking that the only thing that I was going to miss for not taking the LRT/train and then the Volvo was the exercise from the walking. But I consoled myself that I had been fasting the previous day and also had some walking exercise from my office to the Batu 3 railway station on the same day - all for the sake of controlling my diabetes.

Traveling to Putrajaya and arriving at my destination, which was the Ministry of Education at Parcel E, was easy enough for me because I had been to Putrajaya a couple of times before. The first few times was, of course, a nightmare. There were so many signboards and roads and "Precinct" here and "Precinct" there that I got lost a few times. Nowadays, whenever I have to go to Putrajaya, I'll take the same route and also leave by the same way if I want to avoid getting lost again. If you want to have a non-stop learning activity, going in and out of Putrajaya with your car is the best place to do it and also the best way to know about the roads in Putrajaya.

Whoever did the town-planning for Putrajaya, especially at the "Parcel E" area, probably did not think that the Government employees are going to drive and park their cars there and that visitors going there need to park their cars too. When I arrived there at about 8.30 am, I observe that both sides of all the roads there were occupied with cars if not the red barrier cones. Since it was still early, those cars must belong to the employees. On my first round of the area, I was unsuccessful in locating an empty parking space. Yes, even with my tiny Kancil I couldn't find a space large enough to squeeze it in. I was lucky on the second round of the complex when there was a free parking space for my Kancil. Someone who had parked there must be using a Kancil too because it was just wide enough to accomodate my Kancil.

After parking the Kancil and taking out my notebook from the car(couldn't risk losing it), I made my way to the nearest building to enquire where "Jabatan Pengajian Tinggi" (Higher Education Department) was. I approached a guard, who nicely told me that it was located "further down" at Block E3. So I made my way to the Ministry of Higher Education at Block E3. There I was also nicely informed by the lady to go further down to the second floor of Block E9. After a few minutes of walking I reached Block E9 and after registering with the security guard, I went up to the second floor. I informed the lady at the desk of my intention to get the NOC for my son. She nicely told me to take a seat whilst she arranged to get the certificate for me. I was barely seated for 5 minutes before a gentleman approached me and handed to me my son's NOC.

Even though the parking there needed some improvement, I was happy with the way I was treated by all the staffs, including the "jaga" (guard). They were nice and helpful. Maybe because they took a little pity on this "PakCik" (uncle, old man)

I walked back to the car feeling elated because I got what I came for. I was also happy because the walking uphill towards the Kancil made me sweat a bit. I got the exercise that I thought I was going to miss that day.

After I left Parcel E, I went to Precinct One to go to the Immigration Department to get an application form for a foreign maid. In contrast to Parcel E, there was ample parking space for visitors at the Immigration. The planner for the Immigration Department had done a good job of allocating two open-space areas for car parks. So, it wasn't as difficult as at Parcel E for me to get a parking space for my Kancil.

When I entered the lobby, I was surprised to see two lady Immigration Officers standing there to attend to inquiries from the public. I took advantage of the "service" by asking one of them where to get the application form to apply for a foreign maid. She obligingly told me to go to the second floor on the right. I did as she said and sure enough, I soon found myself queuing up for the application form.

What the Immigration Department was doing by placing its officers at the entrance lobby to answer to queries from the public was a good move and should be applauded. I left the Immigration Department being a happier person because my mission to get the NOC for my son and the application form from the Immigration Department had been accomplished. Thank you to God, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful and the Most Helpful, without Whose Help my mission will not be accomplished.

I hope the Putrajaya developer can look into resolving the parking woe at Parcel E and similar areas in Putrajaya for the benefit of the Government employees working there and also for visitors like me to find a convenient place to park our cars to accomplish our "urusan" (mission) with the Ministry.