GOODBYE, MAS ...

I have fond memories of covering MAS when I was a reporter with Business Times.

I go for each and every MAS assignment – big or small, with or without a business angle to the story – and is seen at the MAS Building at Jalan Sultan Ismail almost every other day that the then MD Tan Sri Abdul Aziz Abdul Rahman asked, “Don’t you have your own office?”

He was the most accessible MD. Phone calls to his office never go unanswered. His secretary vetted all calls but I have never had my phone calls to him barred. Also, she’ll call back if he was busy to take the call or if he was in a meeting.

I had many exclusives on MAS – some came from the airline itself, others were sources from within the airline and the aviation industry.

I can remember two.

The first was about Tan Sri Tajudin Ramli seeking RM8 per share, or RM1.67 billion, for Naluri Bhd's 29.9 per cent stake in the airline. When I received word of it, I sent in some questions to my well-placed contact in the Finance Ministry. It was on a Friday. I told him with or without confirmation I was going to run the story on Monday. I knew my informant had first-hand information but I needed to hear it from my ministry’s contact.

At noon on Saturday while having lunch with my cousins at Madam Kwan’s KLCC, I received a phone call from my contact. “You have a pen and paper with you? Write this down,” he said. I got a pen but no paper. I wrote the information on the restaurant’s paper napkin. I remembered sending him eight questions. He answered all of them.

I wrote the story for the Monday publication. I received a phone call very early in the morning from an MAS contact, asking me where I sourced the information from. It seemed that I had created such a furore in MAS with that story. Unofficially, I was told I was “persona non grata” at MAS. I wasn’t rattled by it. I could still get my exclusives without having to go to the MAS building.

Another exclusive was about a US$1 billion EXIM Bank loan to MAS to finance aircraft it ordered. I was at the Langkawi International Maritime and Aerospace (LIMA) show during that time that I got wind of the EXIM Bank loan. I landed the story after I did a little bit of snooping among industry officials who were at LIMA and actually had it confirmed by a well-placed source.

That article earned me a two-hour “lecture” on the phone by a nasty MAS director, who questioned my race (“You’re Malay, right?) and religion (“Orang Islam, kan? Faham apa itu fitnah?”) Yes, what has race got to do with it? And how is it “fitnah” when the story is true? I kept quiet while he was ranting. At the end of it, I challenged him to deny the story if it wasn’t true. He didn’t take up the challenge.

Although I was covering aviation, I didn’t get to travel with the airline that often. I flew with them only once on assignment. It was to London when there was an issue about their fuel load. That was an educational trip for me actually. I got to talk to the pilots in the cockpit. They showed me how to read the fuel load and other instrumentation on the aircraft.

That assignment also showed us how prepared our pilots were for any situation. We were in a thunderstorm as we approached Heathrow. The pilot circled above Heathrow twice in an attempt to land. The second time, the wing tip of the B744 was struck by lightning. The Concorde flying below us abandoned Heathrow for Manchester instead. We landed safely after the third attempt.

I can say that it was the best times of my journalism career covering aviation especially MAS.

As I rose the ranks within the company (through promotions and re-designations), I had to delegate the beat to other reporters but I still kept a keen interest on MAS as I still have contacts within the company and the industry.

I cringed watching the daily “live” press conferences on the missing jetliner. There were so many questions that I wanted to ask MAS and other officials. I knew Ahmad Jauhari Yahaya from his days with NST but never got the opportunity to interview him as the MAS boss.

It is sad to be reading about MAS today. It is heart-breaking.

There are many good people in the company; those who have spent their lives building the MAS brand that we Malaysians were proud of. It is sad to see them go.

A foreigner is now running the airline. I was chastised for writing a piece on the possibility of a foreign CEO for MAS before the government found Idris Jala for the post. I received emails and SMSes, from politicians and corporate figures alike, telling me that we were not short of local candidates to helm the national carrier.

So far, Christoph Mueller has gotten his way to restructure the airline. He has the go ahead to cut routes and axe some 6,000 staff; a plan that could have been executed under previous managements but wasn’t carried out because of … well, you know.

I was told there will be a new name and livery for the national airline. 

Just look at Sony, Nike and AirTran. Who remembers them as Tokyo Tsushin Kogyo, Blue Ribbon Sports and Valujet respectively?

It may just work for the better for the new airline, along with all the other changes that Mueller has in mind.

CSR2015: KAMPUNG GINTONG, JERANTUT

I don’t remember the last time I went out on a CSR programme with the company’s Volunteers’ Brigade. I know for sure I haven’t gone out to any since June last year when I fractured the humerus bone of my right arm (where I had to eventually go for a surgery in July to insert a six-inch plate with six screws replace the grafted bone).

There were several CSR programmes that I could have gone for sometime late last year and early this year but the brigade chief didn’t think I was ready for it.

“Eh, dah boleh angkat barang2 berat dah?” he said when he saw me carrying a box to my office recently. He asked if I could participate in the coming CSR programme. I said yes immediately.

Some 40 of us went to Kampung Gintong in Jerantut last Saturday for the gotong royong Suara Komuniti BH. Kampung Gintong was one of the villages affected by the floods late last year. I remembered reading an article about livestock being swept away during the floods there.

It was a two hours’ drive from Kuala Lumpur.

Arrangement had been made for a contractor to replace the wiring of the Balairaya and Balai Hidang. Our job was to paint these two buildings.

It was a long drive to Kampung Gintong from Jerantut main road. There are some 160 residents from about 30 families living there. Houses were too far apart.

The villagers told us water rose to the roof during the floods. It took close to two weeks for it to subside. In fact, on the way in to the village, we saw some abandoned wooden houses, some still caked in mud.

The mosque and school nearby the Balairaya have been repaired. The mosque had new carpets and prayer mats. The school had the roof and furniture replaced and also a fresh coat of paint. There are some 40 students (from Standards One to Six) at the school, with 15 teachers. There is only one Standard Five student at the school.

Most of us could not imagine ourselves living in a faraway village like that. “I would need some kind of civilization,” someone said.

My guess is although there are basic amenities such as water and electricity and also telecommunications (funny enough, there is Maxis and Celcom connections when we were out in the open but not while we were in the Balairaya), we still need the “hustle and bustle” feel to the surroundings.

The before and after photos of the exterior of Balairaya Kampung Gintong, Jerantut

The before and after photos of the interior of Balairaya Kampung Gintong, Jerantut

One the abandoned houses at Kampung Gintong

A DATE NEVER FORGOTTEN

It was a Friday like today 34 years ago when I received news that my eldest brother had passed away. He was in Ipoh, a final year land survey student at Politeknik Ungku Omar.

I was in Muar doing my Form Six. My parents and my youngest brother were at home in Johor Bahru.

The brother-in-law of my aunt’s husband, who lived in Muar, came by the hostel to break the news. There was kuliah at the college in the morning but I stayed in instead. I woke up feeling extremely cold – chilling to the bones – although the weather was warm that morning. He said my parents would be picking me up later to go to Kuala Lumpur to bring the body home.

My parents had received a telegram from the polytechnic informing them of his death. My father called the polytechnic to confirm the news and got in touch with other family members.

In the car to Kuala Lumpur, they discussed funeral arrangements. They decided not to bring the body home but to bury him in Kuala Lumpur instead.

A cousin, whose husband worked at the Sungai Siput police station, claimed the body from the hospital in Ipoh. He took the body to his house to prepare for transfer.

My paternal aunt and her husband went to Sungai Siput to bring the body back to Kuala Lumpur.

They arrived in Taman Tun Dr Ismail in Kuala Lumpur at 1am Saturday morning.  They had stopped in Trolak where some of his college mates were waiting to see him for the last time.

His body was already prepared for burial but they opened the kain kafan for us. We saw and kissed him for the last time.

At 10am Saturday morning, he was buried at the Petaling Jaya Muslim cemetery.

He would have been 54 this year.

SCHOOL HOLIDAYS ... NAK KE MANA?

School holidays are right around the corner but we haven’t made any plans. In fact, we’re not going anywhere this mid-year school holidays (or else, we would have made bookings for transport, accommodation and whatever else that needed to be done to ensure a vacation to be enjoyed by all especially my 75-year old mother).

My niece, Mysara, who will be sitting for the STPM at the end of the year while her brother, Danial, will do the PT3, will have extra classes during the two-week break. I would have signed him up for a PT3 workshop if he hasn’t any extra classes.  
"Duduk rumah, baca buku, kan nak periksa ni ..." would be my mother's reply if the grandchildren asked her where they can take her for a short break outside Kuala Lumpur.
So, we're not going anywhere. Furthermore, I’m saving up for our winter holiday in Korea at the end of the year.

They were pretty disappointed when we were in London and Paris during the Christmas/New Year break last year. They wanted a winter holiday. By that, they meant snow. They didn’t get to see any. The weather was frosty, though.

But they enjoyed themselves nevertheless. We did the normal touristy stuff; taking the hop-on, hop-off buses in both cities, walked (the farthest we did was from Hard Rock Café Park Lane to the far end of Oxford Street), shopped (Boxing Day sale was outrageous!) and eat (I found out the kids like duck meat; we had lunch at Oodle Noodle in Bayswater for two consecutive days while we were there!). We went to Madame Tussaud, Emirates Stadium and Harry Potter’s Studio.

We stayed the entire duration in London (at a hotel which was walking distance to the London Eye and Big Ben). We made a day trip into Paris on the Eurostar across the English Channel. They went crazy taking photographs of the Eiffel Tower.

So this year, instead of flying for 15-plus hours (plus transit) into Europe, they want to go somewhere nearer like Korea. A flight there takes about six hours.

“Dah tu, kat mana lagi Sara nak pakai winter jacket tu?” she asked. True. We bought winter jackets, sweaters, thermal wear and boots for the London and Paris trip. It would go to waste if not used again.

The children had never experienced snow. That’s why they request we go on another winter holiday at the end of the year.

My first experience with snow was in New York during winter of 1993. I was there for the three-month United Nations Fellowship. It snowed in the city a week before coming home. We were actually preparing to go to Washington DC for a few days.  It was in the early afternoon that I saw something white fluttering in the air.

It became heavy and at the end of the day, snow was piling on top of parked vehicles and on the ground.  I had to go out to the supermarket that afternoon. It had stopped snowing but the winds were gushing that it blew off the baseball cap that I was wearing. Children were at the park next to the hotel I stayed, throwing snow balls at each other.

It’s no fun really travelling during winter. You have to wear layers of clothing when you go out and it can weigh you down. Going to the washroom can be burdensome as you would have to peel all the bottom layers before you can do your business.

But the children want the experience; even if it’s just once in a lifetime.

Frosty morning at the Warner Bros Studios in Watford

Big Ben, London

Eiffel Tower, Paris

I’M PLUS SIZE. WHAT ABOUT YOU?

I wear an XXL T-shirt (American size). Add another X to that if the T-shirt is in the Malaysian size. Using the UK chart, I vary between sizes 18 and 20, depending on the cutting of the clothes.

Yes, I’m a plus size woman. I have been one all my life. Even if I drop one X from the local size of XXXL, I am still considered a plus size.

(In the fashion industry, a plus size is identified as sizes 12-24, super size as sizes 4X-6X and extended size as 7X and above. In Britain, the term used is “outsize”.)

Some 20 years ago, a plus size woman would find difficulty buying clothes off the rack. The largest size would be XL. Only certain labels carry XXL or XXXL. Either you send fabric for tailoring or you shop for your plus size clothing overseas.

Now, you can find several labels carrying plus size clothes here such as Marks and Spencer (up to size 24), Ms Read (sizes 12-24) and Total Women (T1 to T4). Price-wise, items from these labels can be a little bit on the high side (although you can get a good price on selected items or during the sale period). The range they carry is fairly fashionable too.

There are several online stores that offer plus size dresses, tops and bottoms at reasonable prices but some of the items are really dowdy in terms of the cutting and the fabric used. Most often than not, the fabric used is the body-hugging lycra, probably because of the elasticity of the fabric. While the plain ones are fairly okay, the printed ones look jaded.

Plus sized women want to look good, too. Most plus-size women I know are into fashion but the industry doesn't seem to be interested to invest in the time, money and marketing campaigns for the market.

They should realise that customers comes in all shapes and sizes and their range of clothing should reflect that.

Last year, I had problems finding ready-made Baju Kurung for Hari Raya. Choices were limited and they weren't as nice as those tailored for the slim and svelte. I would have bought a few in fact if there were some nice ones to choose from. I just bought one.

I think the more offerings you have for women my size, the more they will spend. We have the same amount of disposable income just like every other shopper.
I’m hoping that some known retailers, especially the online ones, would carry plus sizes as well. 

We want to contribute to the local economy too, you know.

My favourite plus size women ... Adele (left) and Adibah Noor

BILA DAPUR BERASAP …

I haven’t been cooking much the past year or so. It’s not that I don’t have the time for it but it’s cheaper for me to eat outside. Cooking for one can be an expensive affair. It can lead to wastage too.

Nevertheless, when I do cook, normally weekends when I’m too lazy to go out, it would be simple dishes like the kerabu ikan bilis I read on LoubiLou. 

Only, I called mine ikan bilis goreng bawang dan cili api (tak creative langsung kan?) and I add a squeeze of tamarind juice in it, thus creating some gravy.

I swear I can live on this alone; eating it with piping hot rice, with kicap manis cap Kipas (somehow I like this brand the best!) and telur dadar (fried egg pancake with sliced onions and red or green chillies).

Or, sardines in tomato sauce (saute onions in some oil, add chillies, pour in the sardine with the tomato sauce and add a little water to thin the gravy), also to be eaten with rice and telur dadar.

Or just hot rice with a dab of butter, kicap manis and deep-fried fish (ikan kembong would be the best).

These are my comfort food. These are food I would turn to when I’m sick or on those “down” days.

But, given a choice, I would rather cook pasta than rice. It’s much easier. I consider pasta a one-pot meal (you dump everything in a pasta dish) while you have to cook the lauk-pauk sampingan to eat with white rice.

A favourite is pasta (macaroni, penne,fusilli, rigatoni or farfelle) mixed with tuna/sardine in olive oil and greens (snowpeas or spinach).

I would cook enough to deep-freeze to eat later during the week. All I need to do is to pop a portion of the pasta into the microwave oven. Add grated cheese and dinner (or late supper) is ready.

And of late, I’ve been experimenting on recipes for for one. Yes, food you can cook in a mug. Breakfasts, cakes, muffins … using the microwave, of course.
You may not see smoke spewing out of my kitchen (unless I burn the dish, of course) but dapur sudah mula berasap again, Alhamdulillah.

Macaroni with tuna in extra virgin oil and snow peas with a dash of lemon juice
(The black speckles are coarse ground black pepper, loads of it)

“DARI RUMAH KE TANAH” …

Have you heard of this term before? I can bet you have not.

It’s my mother’s favourite line on her squabbling grandchildren.

Well, they don’t squabble all the time.

You know how teenage siblings are; they can be best buddies one minute and get on each others’ nerves the next.

One word, one sentence or an action can trigger an outburst. And it can happen anywhere; hence, “dari rumah” (from home) and “ke tanah” (to mean outside the house).

And it can be irritating to the grandmother because she’s with them in Putrajaya.

Whenever they start quarrelling, the nenek will go, “dari rumah ke tanah …” and starts her rant. Mysara and Danial will start blaming each other on who started the quarrel first.  

And because the nenek uses it often enough, they will, in the midst of their squabbling, say “dari rumah ke tanah” before she can say it herself. And they will burst out laughing. And nenek will be annoyed. “Tengok tu, dia main-mainkan kita,” she would say.

I don’t know where my mother got this saying from. It is not some simpulan bahasa or peribahasa used by the Malays. Yes, I google-d. I can’t trace its source.

In fact, she used it when we were growing up. Yes, we had our fair share of quarrels among siblings. I’ve also heard my aunties (never by my uncles), both maternal and paternal, using them when describing their own children and grandchildren. “Budak-budak ni dari rumah ke tanah sama saja.”  

Generally, what it means is to reflect the same behaviour at home and where ever you are.

And when the grandchildren are on their best behaviour, trading stories and share laughter over jokes, nenek will be wary of what is to come next.

#Throwback ... nenek and her two grandchildren,
Hari Raya Aidilfitri August 2013/Syawal 1434H

THE ENCYCLOPEDIA WAS MY TEACHER, NOW IT’S YOUTUBE

Remember the encyclopedia?

I had an uncle who kept volumes (from A to Z) of the Encyclopedia Britannica in a cupboard. No one could touch it. It was as if these books were put in there as a display.

At the school library, I use the encyclopedia as my reference books. Just like the dictionary, only the encyclopedia had a lot more information than just on words alone. It was my teacher. I refer to it mostly when teachers can’t give me a satisfactory answer to my questions.

These days, kids (and adults, included) have Google and the many search engines available. All they need to do is type in what they want to know and voila … the answer is there for the taking!

But it is YouTube that has replaced the encyclopedia as my teacher.

Some of the things I’ve learned and become good at are because of the videos on YouTube.

Baking is one of them. Decourage is another. The third will, insya’Allah, be playing the guitar.

When I was in school, I used to follow my mother to her baking and cooking classes. I get to eat what ever she learned at class.

Now, I signed up for baking classes on my own. Nothing can compare with seeing it live being done by the bakers/teachers.

At the first baking class, I wanted to learn the technique to making cream puffs as mine always sank during cooling period after baking. The second class was mostly for cake decorating.

But these “live” classes don’t come cheap compared with YouTube, which is free, although some sites can be premium content (payable through subscription).

YouTube have taught me to bake other cakes and desserts and decorate these cakes and cookies. A teacher taught me how to make a peony from fondant at a cake decorating class but I learn how to make other flowers on YouTube.

As for decoupage, I happened to chance a YouTube video on the art.

After watching a few videos on it, I said to myself, “I can do this.”  All I needed was the tools for it. I headed to a crafts store at Garden and got everything needed to start it.

This is a hobby I take seriously.

If you follow my Facebook and/or Instagram, you would have seen some of my work. Family and friends have asked whether I am selling my work. It’s too pretty to sell but there are way too many to keep at home. I may just consider giving it to close friends and relatives.

A vase which has been decoupaged with floral paper napkins

Playing the guitar? Yes. I already have a guitar. Classes conducted by a colleague are dependent on whether he or the students are available. I have not made any headway in class.

So, I will be turning to YouTube for this.

If I can learn to play one song, even if it’s “Happy Birthday”, it would be an achievement.  

START FRESH

Six letters,

Two words,

Easy to say,

Hard to explain,

Harder to do:

MOVE ON.

A Wednesday's Child

Monday's child is fair of face,

Tuesday's child is full of grace,

Wednesday's child is full of woe,

Thursday's child has far to go,

Friday's child is loving and giving,

Saturday's child works hard for a living,

But the child who is born on the Sabbath day

Is fair and wise and good in every way.

-          A. E. Bray's Traditions of Devonshire (Volume II, pp. 287–288)

This is a new blog.

Does this mean a new life?

Well, maybe.

This is my third blog, to be exact. I don’t remember the first blog. I accidentally deleted the account when I wanted to change the blog name. Lucky for me, there weren’t that many postings yet.

The second blog was initially called Latte @ Chinoz on the Park as I used to hang out there quite a lot with my good friend Helen, who has now moved to Kuching, Sarawak. We had a good time watching people from all walks of life there.

I started it on a Wednesday, on 26 July 2006 to be exact. I changed it to Latte @ Anytime, Anywhere  after my “centre of universe” was no longer KLCC. That was, if I recall correctly, some four years ago.

I put it on private mode sometime in November last year. 
Why, you asked? 
I wasn't blogging enough. 
Well, that is not exactly true. 
From the time I private my blog to the last posting I did, I actually wrote eight times. That was in the span of a month. All that pent-up anger and frustration, personal and at work, were translated into writing. I would be frothing at the mouth if it had been verbal, that much I can tell you.

I never actually left the blog sphere. I merely slowed down. 

So, when Kak Teh of Choc-a-Bloc Blog suggested in her Facebook posting that bloggers – who had not updated their blogs for yonks – write a post and press the ‘publish’ button on May 6, I thought it would give me the much needed kick-start to blog again.

Instead of making my “private” blog public, I decided to open a new one.

“Start fresh,” a dear friend of mine said. “It will do you good.” Insya’Allah. 

So, here I am, starting a new blog today on #blogreviveday.
Coincidentally, I was also born on a Wednesday 52 years ago.
As such, it is only apt that I named this new blog Wednesday’s Child.

The Wednesday's Child in the arms of her paternal grandfather, Tok Uda