Saturday, January 31, 2009

Sunset on the Nile - the video

In my earlier post after returning from my 8-day holiday in Egypt, I wrote that I would write about my holiday and the places I visited. But I think I'll let my video do the talking.... Enjoy it!

Sunset photos taken from deck of luxury liner Royal Regency. Other photos from Phile Island, Edfu Temple, Habu Temple and Karnak Temple, all taken in the evenings.

My appreciation to my official escort Ahmed Al Wassef and my guide Mohamed Al Said.
Thank you Hala and Nihad for the wonderful lunch by the Nile in Cairo.
And Badri for the day in Alexandria.




Friday, January 30, 2009

Peruvian artist Simeon Gonzales Ayquipa

My young Peruvian artist friend from Cusco have lately been trying to get into my good books again. First a new year greetings by email. Last week two faxes, one announcing his new exhibition in Spain, and the second one saying " sorry for what happened" !

Well, it's still a cooling-off period for me and I wish him all the best with his venture in Spain. I just hope he does not get into another situation like he did in 2001 when after a year of hard work in Spain churning out what I consider his best works to date, he came back with a dud USD 45,000 cheque!

My young friend is really extremely talented as you can see from his paintings here. He has all the making of a great artist (if he isn't already one). But like most artists with sad, tragic stories, he has a mind very much his own and it is difficult to convince him what I think is the right course.

I believe I have done my part well enough, spending a lot of time on his behalf. I have over the years since our meeting in 2001 promoted his works rather extensively within my circle of friends and colleagues. I did one very successful major exhibition of his works in Kuala Lumpur in 2004 and two informal ones following that, with his presence at the last one. He made a lot of money from the sales at the exhibitions as well as from private sales courtesy of my contacts. And yet he is constantly without money! Why? Because he spent it all on doing one exhibition after another at his own expense - to build a resume! I told him his resume was long and impressive enough but he was not convinced!

Anyway the last straw was early last year when I had assisted him financially, and even as a reference for his visa, to travel and do an exhibition in Koln, Germany, after which he was supposed to visit me here for a few days. But he quarrelled with the promoter after the exhibition and things went sour. Before that he was very upset with me, sending me nasty emails. All because I sent an email to the promoter inquiring about the exhibition, his visa and the financial arrangement. It took lengthy explanation to convince him that I was only doing that out of concern and in his interest.

After the exhibition, and the quarrel with the promoter and his unfulfilled promise to visit me, he sent me a most insolent email accusing me of being high and mighty and siding with the promoter just because I spoke to the man, who of course had a barrel of complaints about my young friend.

Well, enough was enough. I wrote him a terse email and told him to move on and not bother me anymore. I had done more than most people were willing to do for him and if that was his way of showing appreciation, adios amigo was really in order. So Simeon, if you are reading this, which I doubt, (anyway he doesn't speak English), cooling-off period is still in effect.

You will be forgiven eventually, but you must first learn what friendship and courtesy are all about!

All paintings are oil on canvas. The two watercolours on paper Simeon and I worked together on. It was his way of imparting his talent on me. It was a very inspiring and happy collaboration and I am very proud of the result! The last painting which he called IL TRITICO was commissioned by my sister-in-law Anita and proudly hangs in her house in Shah Alam.














Monday, January 26, 2009

A Reflection on My Birthday

Sering aku merasa kesepian
sepanjang perjalanan
Namun kehadiran Mu bawa kedamaian
Bagi diriku Kau lah titisan hujan
menyirami taman hati
Aku yang sering kegersangan
rasa keindahan nya

Hadir Mu Kekasih
disaat diriku memerlukan
Hadir Mu Kekasih
mengutip kedukaan yang seringnya
merintangi kesepian hidup yang tak bertepi
Terpadam kepahitan
Semuanya kerana hadir Mu

Kau sedarkan daku
dari kejatuhan ku yang lalu
Kau kekuatan ku
Di saat kepayahan
Kau nyalakan pengharapan
Semakin bererti hidup ini
Terpadam kepahitan
Semuanya kerana hadir Mu.....

Amin, amin
Ya Rabbal al amin.









- Birthday bouquet from my staff

Home from Egypt & Gong Xi Fatt Choy

I came home from my 8 days holiday in Egypt last night. It was a wonderful holiday and I will write about it in my next posts. Meanwhile here are some early photos from the holiday.









Today is the Chinese Lunar New Year, the Year of the Ox. To all my Chinese friends and colleagues (especially my dear friends Jian & Wing, Harriet & Tai Long, Yong Ai, Mein Nien, Hoong Po, Willie, Debbie, Siew Lay & Steve, Susan & Shum, G-Mun, Gene, Wen, May Yong & Lai, Koon San & Fooi Lin, and Seng Sung and all others) I wish you all a happy and prosperous new year ahead and all the good things you wish for.

Today is also my birthday! No need to guess how old I am.... old and wise enough I am sure! I am having a quiet a very restful day at home after the 8 busy, exciting days in Egypt but tomorrow I will have a luncheon party for 25 people, my staff and friends here.

The greetings and good wishes have been pouring in by sms, emails and phone calls. I feel very touched and overwhelmed by all the kind thoughts and expression of love and friendship. Yam in Washington even did a special video for me, thank you darling! My brothers and my cousin Wan had done and will do more special prayers for me at mosques in Johor Bahru and Kuala Lumpur for the occasion, bless them.
What can I say, I really feel BLESSED. I am so very grateful to have all the good things in life and the added bonus of family and friends. Thank you all and may God bless you too always.

Alhamdullilah, Alhamdullilah, Alhamdullilah.


Mimpi Kamariah

Kamariah tersentak dari tidur. Dadanya bergoncang dan peluh menitis dari dahi. Sungguh menggemparkan sekali mimpinya. Lalu dia bangkit dan melangkah dari katil ke tingkap bilik tidur dan melihat keluar. Damai sekali malam itu, cahaya bulan serta lampu jalan menabur bayang-bayang tenang dari pokok mangga di halaman rumah. Sungguh berbeza sekali dengan perasaannya pada masa itu yang bergelora dengan rasa kesunyian yang tak terhingga.

Jam menunjukkan pukul 3.20 pagi. Dalam kegelapan Kamariah melangkah ke dapur dan meminum seteguh air sejuk. Dalam samar-samar kegelapan itu juga dia dapat melihat dapur dan ruang-ruang rumah yang tersusun kemas dan terhidu bau wangi sejambak bunga yang ada di atas meja di ruang tamu. Kamariah mengeluh kecil sambil melangkah balik ke bilik tidur: “Rumahku dan hidupku sungguh teratur, tetapi untuk siapa? Adakah cukup untuk aku seorang sahaja!”
.............................................

Dari pejabatnya Kamariah menelefon Mak Sunya. Dia teringin melawat ibu saudara yang paling rapat dengannya petang itu juga. Sudah lama mereka tidak bertemu. Mak Su adalah satu-satunya orang yang pernah memanjakan dia dan sekrang tanpa Datin Fatimah, Mak Su kakak sulung ibunya itu adalah tempat bermanja dan mengadu bagi Kamariah.

“Lama kau tak datang Kem?” tegur Mak Su selepas Kamariah mencium tangannya.

“Sibuklah mak, kerja tak habis-habis” sahut Kamariah.

“Kau tak takut duduk sorang-sorang kat rumah tu?” Tanya Mak Su buat kali yang keseratus agaknya!

“Dah biasa mak! Mana Yem dan Ani?”

“Belum balik lagi, Kem, selalunya memang lambat”, jawab Mak Su.

Mereka berbual perkara-perkara kecil sambil minum teh. Masa berlalu dan Kamariah belum terdaya menimbulkan soal mimpinya. Kamariah sentiasa berada terlindung dan selesa sekali bila berada di samping Mak Sunya. Orang tua itu banyak mengenalkan Kamariah kepada latar belakang ibu dan bapa kesayangannya. Namun demikian, kadang-kadang Kamariah rasa ingin menanyakan siapakah sebenaranya ibu bapa kandungnya, tetapi sehingga sekarang dia masih belum berani lagi. Dia percaya Mak Su tentu tahu.

Kamariah sedar dia adalah kelahiran Cina dan hakikat inilah yang memberatkan lagi akibat bersabit harta-bendanya sekiranya dia mati tanpa meninggalkan zuriat. Kamariah telah dibesarkan dengan secukupnya tata susila kemelayuan dan keagamaan dan telah sebati dengan cara hidup ini di sebalik cara hidup yang juga kebaratan. Di hati kecilnya tidak wujud sedikitpun tarikan ciri-ciri kecinaan selain dari memandangnya sebagai suatu perkara kebudayaan dan yang tidak dapat dielakkan dalam masyarakat berbgai bangsa di negara ini. Ini jua membuat Kamariah curiga sekiranya dia sanggup menghadapi kedua-dua ibu bapa sebenaranya sekiranya ada peluang sedemikian.

“Che Jaafar ada telefon kau ke Kem?” tiba-tiba Mak Su bertanya.

“Tak adalah! Kenapa pula dia nak telefon Kem? Dia nak amil bank loan ke?” Kamariah menyahut, agak terkejut dari lamunannya dan agak anih dengan timbulnya nama Che Jaafar.

“Kau ni sampai bila nak membujang? Che Jaafar tu kan dah lama menduda. Dulu masa Ayah Mat kau masih hidup dia pernah merisik pasal engkau. Tapi kau tahulah aruah tu, dia tak mahu bangkitkan perkara ini pada kau. Takut kau melenting, katanya. Kebelakangan ini pula bila bertemu dengan Yem dan Ani, Che Jaafar tu selalu tanya pasal engkau. Dia baik orangnya, Kem. Kesian, isterinya meninggal dah tiga tahun. Anak tunggalnya pun dah besar, sekarang belajar kat Amerika. Dia tu duduk sorang macam kau juga. Kata Yem lagi dia pernah tanyakan sama ada kau tu dah terikat. Berapa umur kau sekarang Kem?“

Kamariah hampir tidak percaya apa yang didengarnya. Che Jaafar yang dikenalinya sebagai sahabat baik keluarga mereka, yang sentiasa ada di majlis-majlis kenduri, tahlil dan lain-lain majlis keluarga mereka. Umurnya tentu lebih dari lima puluh tahun tetapi orangnya masih segak dan tampan. Kamariah tidak menyangka sekali yang Che Jaafar mempunya apa-apa minat terhadapnya. Di mana-sama mereka bertemu di majlis-majlis tadi Kamariah sentiasa menegur hormat kepadanya sebagai rakan baik bapa dan bapa saudarnya. Che Jaafar pun sentiasa bersikap sopan terhadapnya. Kamariah sungguh terperanjat.

“Mak ini merepeklah!” bantah Kamariah, namun hatinya mula berdebar. “Takkan dia hendak dengan saya. Ramai lagi perempuan lebih muda dari saya. Lagipun saya tak tahu menahu kalau benarpun. Mak percaya dengan Yem dan Ani tu?”

“Yem tu kerja dalam bangunan yang sama dengan Che Jaafar, selalunya mereka bertembung. Si Ani pulak selalu ke rumah Cik Siti, adik Che Jaafar tu. Anak Cik Siti, Ena tu kawan baik Si Ani. Sekali-sekala Si Ani jumpa Che Jaafar di rumah Cik Siti tu. Ada sekali Che Jaafar pernah hantar Ani dan Ena ke sini. Mak ajak dia naik tapi dia agak segan pulak. Sebenarnya Cik Siti pernah telefon pada mak beberapa minggu dulu, katanya dia nak berbincang sesuatu. Mak kata datanglah, tapi tiba-tiba dia terpaksa ikut laki dia ke Singapura. Bila dia balik nanti tentu dia telefon mak lagi. Mak tahu ini mesti tentang Kem dan Che Jaafar. Jadi macam mana Kem, kau setuju tak? Kau tahu, Yem kata kat pejabat Che Jaafar tu ramai betul peminatnya tapi dia sikitpun tak kisah“.

Kamariah menjadi bingung. Fikirannya bercabang seribu. Ini semua seoralah-olah mimpi, sambungan mimpi buruknya semalam, hanya kali inii ia lebih mengelirukan dalam kejelasannya.
”Kau duduklah dulu Kem. Mak nak masuk sembahyang. Fikirlah baik-baik. Semoga Tuhan buka kan hati kau”.

Di sepanjang perjalanannya ke rumah, wajah-wajah Che Jaafar, Dr. Wilson, Malek, Datuk Talib dan Datin Fatimah bergilir-gilir muncul di fikiran Kamariah. Dia sungguh keliru. Kenapa dengan mendadak timbul perkara ini dan mengapa selama ini Mak Su, dan sepupunya Yem dan Ani tidak pernah mengatakan apa-apa tentang perkara ini kepadanya. Kata-kata Mak Su berulang-ulang bermain di ingatan beliau....

" Che Jaafar tu baik orang nya... Che Jaaafar tu baik orangnya... baik orangnya... Che Jaafar tu..... "

"Mak dan ayah kau tak pernah sempat menimang cucu. Mansor sampai sekarang belum dapat anak. Kau tak ingin ke punyai keluarga Kem? Mak bukan apa apa, tapi harta benda kau tu nak tinggal pada siapa.....pada siapa.....pada siapa....?"

Soalan terakhir itu tepat kaitan dengan mimpinya semalam dan Kamariah sedar dia tak perlu membangkitkan tentang mimpinya lagi.....

Friday, January 16, 2009

Jazz Dinner on a snowy night

I had dinner at Marilyn and Robert’s house again last night and it was quite an occasion. They invited some 40 people and there was a 3-piece jazz band to entertain us as well. I met several interesting people and had wonderful conversations with them. Robert announced that before dessert all the men must leave their tables and to other tables so that they would meet other ladies. What a wonderful idea!

Several of the people I spoke to had been to Malaysia, and spoke well of Malaysia. To those who had not, I had a great time telling them about all the wonderful things that awaited them in my country, very much supported by those around us who had been – and they were impressed. I was glad to do my bit for Malaysian tourism!

The dinner party was a pleasant way to spend a cold, seemingly endless snowy winter night. We started early, invitation was at 6 pm. (it gets dark here by 5 pm) and by 9.30 pm people started to leave. It was good timing, and I had time to watch the news and read my Internet at home after that. I am not a fan a jazz but the trio played well and were given rousing applause at the end of the evening.

It is still a long way before winter ends. I wish the snow will just melt away. It has been around over a month now. The last few days saw some sunshine and temperature finally going above zero, which melted some of the snow but there is still plenty around yet!
My dear friend Prof. Beep and her two colleagues arrive tonight from their week-long work in Germany (enrolling all those lucky MARA-sponsored students in various institutes in Germany) for a short visit before they fly back to Malaysia. No doubt they will be heading for the Bally outlet tomorrow!

This year I need not go to Davos for the World Economic Forum which will be from 24 – 27 January, as I had for the last two consecutive years. So I am going to leave this cold snowy place seek some sunshine. Come Sunday I leave for Egypt for a week and take a luxury cruise up the Nile from Aswan to Luxor, and visit Alexandria (I had already done Cairo and the Pyramids and the Sphinx in 1984).

Meanwhile to the mosque for Friday prayers. I hope Mustafa the Albanian imam does not scream and shout again as he has a habit of doing at the sermon! Three Fridays ago, having just returned from his annual pilgrimage in Mecca for the haj and all fired up with what was happening in Gaza, he gave a fiery talk before the prayer. And then he got all fired up again during a particularly lengthy sermon, shouting and raising his voice until his face was all red and and you could see all the veins. Bad enough I did not understand a word of the Arabic, Albanian and German he was sermonizing in, but his shouting and screaming really got me! Of course we are all extremely upset and concerned over what was happening in Gaza, but screaming and shouting do not really help!

Often I was tempted to ask him why did he raise his voice and shout so much during the sermons. But each time after prayer he would stand outside the hall and greet the congregation as they leave and when it was my turn he would take my hand and kiss me on both cheeks! So how was I going to tell him to tone down a bit!

Monday, January 12, 2009

Tok Wan's birthday

Tok Wan sat alone at his dinner table. There was a far and nostalgic but contented look on his face. It has been a long busy day, quite out of the regular for an old man like him. So many people had wished him happy birthday today, both at home and earlier this evening at the mosque where there was a special 'doa' for him. He felt grateful and blessed.

He reluctantly finished his food that the maid insisted he eats and went to sit in the porch. On the way he passed Mak Nah’s photo on the side table and looked at it and smiled. How good she had been to him, he thought, and although it had been many years since she died, not a day passed that he had not missed her and her loving ways. He had to stifle his tears this morning when he visited her grave.

Strange though that it was not really her that he was in love with in those early days but her younger sister, Zainab. Nab was then the more attractive, lively and independent woman of her time in comparison to Hasnah’s serious and conservative ways. As a schoolgirl Nab used to take maths tuition from Tok Wan. And even then he was already attracted to her charming obstinacy. Nab had ambition and was headstrong – she wanted to be a teacher. They had a rather tempestuous relationship, and as it grew they saw no way that they could live together with their strong temperaments. He was willing to try but Nab kept deferring giving an answer to his proposal, afraid to lose her her independence and in zealous pursuit of her career.

Tok Wan married Hasnah, in some way to spite Nab, and to fulfill his parent’s wishes. Nab thereafter refused all other proposals of marriage, pursued her teaching career with a vengence and is today a retired headmistress, still unmarried and a little mellow. But each time she and Tok Wan met, they meet they still found things to quarrel about. Like at today's lunch, over of all things, her diaspproval of a new cologne he was using (a birthday gift from one of his grandsons), which she thought was too young for him. He let her have her say and did not mention her tinted hair and the bright orange baju kurung too showy for her age...

The gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the mango trees nearby as softly as the way Mak Nah would put a hand on him when he fell asleep on the porch to get him to come to bed. Twelve long years have passed without her. It was a very lonely period in the beginning. “Bagai berkurun lama kesepian...” (like a hundred years of loneliness) was a line of a song he often hear on radio these days and it just about summed up how he felt at that time.

Tok Wan closed his eyes. He could hear the sweet voice of Rafeah Buang from the maid's transistor radio. She too had long departed and Tok Wan remembered how Mak Nah used to love to hear her sing and thought that other female singers should emulate her descent image.

What had a man to celebrate his seventy-eighth year for, Tok Wan thought. He was the only one left from his own family of one brother and three sisters. Thank goodness for his own family, that was all a man at his age could claim. Mak Nah bore him six children who gave him twenty two grandchildren and three great grandchildren so far. Alhamdullilah, they are all alive except for his eldest son.

There were indeed few regrets in his life and he had a lot to be grateful for instead. He had been relatively healthy all his life except for minor ailments. He was still able to live on his own with the loyal Indonesian maid and her husband, refusing all invitations of his family members to move in with them. He could still go to the mosque and visit Mak Nah's grave on his own.

His friends wandered why he never remarried as most widower would do, if anything, for someone to look after him. And there was Nab, still single and matured, his very first love and the woman he had continued to love secretly for a big part of his married life. What would be more acceptable than to “salin tikar”(replace a carpet).

But no, he would not give Nab the satisfaction of being asked a second time by him. They were comfortable with their present canktankterous relationship. And Nab was quite set in her own life already having adopted two children who were now married and have children of their own. No, it would not be the thing to marry Nab, though Tok Wan sometimes thought that Mak Nah would have approved it. Tok Wan knew that Mak Nah was always discreetly aware that she was a second choice as his wife, and that her husband harboured an unfulfilled love for her sister.

At her death bed Mak Nah had whispered something to Nab, which Nab had kept a secret until today. Tok Wan would like to believe that it was Mak Nah’s will to Nab that she should marry Tok Wan if asked....

But now he would never know, and he would not ask the proud custodian of the secret either questions....

Sunday, January 11, 2009

Painting - Susanna and the Elders

I bought this 18th Century Italian painting (author unattributed but of an Italian school) in Poland in 1988 and it has been playing hide and seek with me ever since. Meaning sometimes I see it and sometimes I don't! Whenever I live overseas I hang it up and when I am home in Malaysia it stays in storage, out of deference for my visiting relatives and friends who might be sensitive to Susanna's lack of covering. But also because I do not have enough wall to hang such a big picture.

The painting is a popular image in sixteenth-eighteenth-century art based on the Old Testament story of Susanna and the Elders. It is based on a a passage from the 13th chapter of the book of Daniel. As the story goes, a fair Hebrew wife is falsely accused by lecherous voyeurs. As she bathes in her garden, having sent her attendants away, two lusty elders secretly observe the lovely Susanna. When she makes her way back to her house, they accost her, threatening to claim that she was meeting a young man in the garden unless she agrees to make love to them.

She refuses to be blackmailed, and is arrested and about to be put to death for promiscuity when a young man named Daniel interrupts the proceedings. After separating the two men, they are questioned about details (cross-examination) of what they saw, but disagree about the tree under which Susanna supposedly met her lover. The great difference in size between a mastic and an oak makes the elders' lie plain to all the observers. The false accusers are put to death, and virtue triumphs.

I bought the painting as a future investment, and had paid quite a chunk for it even then. When I was in Australia in 1995 I had Sotheby in Sydney value and authenticate it. They subsequently offered to auction it for me. I was not too happy with the estimate base price they put on it and I was not in need of money then so I declined the offer.

The painting had travelled the globe, from Poland to Malaysia, then Australia, back to Malaysia, then to Peru, back to Malaysia and now back in Europe again where it originated from. Susanna has been laying wrapped, unappreciated and untended to rather too long. I had not opened it since I left Peru in 2002. I think perhaps it's about time someone else own and appreciate it....

11-11-2009 - Susanna was successfully auctioned off today at 70% of the highest estimate price, and five times the original price I paid for. I was hoping for more but in today's financial situation I should be happy with what I got. Out of deference of it new owners I have removed Susanna's pictures from this posting!

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

Tiresome snow

I came back from my holiday in Lebanon on 13 Dec to a country covered with three days of snowfall. A few days later there was another huge snowfall, apparently one of the heaviest in many years. The snow lingered on past Christmas and after some sunny days when the temperature went up and just as I thought I was going to get my garden back to its wintry green, another huge snowfall came on new year's eve. It's now white all over again, and it's getting rather tiresome frankly!
My friend Heinz just called reminding me of his invitation to Adelboden this Sunday for what is probably the biggest event for downhill ski competition in Europe. He had assured me of a heated VIP tent! I promised to give him my final answer tonight.

Do I want to go? All that drive up winding narrow Alpine roads and then a cable car ride to some 3000 metres in this unfriendly weather and probably freezing myself silly in that extremely cold (and may even be windy) weather, heated VIP tent notwithstanding! (If of any consolation, my dear friend Heather from Regina, Saskatchewan in Canada, rang two night ago to wish me happy new year and said it was minus 46 degrees Celsius where she was!).

Sorry Heinz, I think I'll stay home. I am sure someone else will greatly appreciate the CH600( RM1800) ticket to the VIP tent....

Monday, January 5, 2009

Giorgio dan Azizah

“Pronto! Selamat petang, saya Maria Antonietta. Boleh saya cakap dengan Giorgio kalau dia ada di sana ”, suara di telefon menegur Azizah.

“Selamat petang. Giorgio tidak ada di sini, Signora siapa? Boleh saya ambil pesan?". Azizah menjawab agak gementar kerana dia mengesyaki siapa wanita itu.

“Saya isterinya. Maaf kalau saya mengganggu Signorina. Saya perlu bercakap segera dengan Giorgio tapi telefon rumahnya tidak ada jawab. Saya tanya kawannya Franco dan katanya Giorgio mungkin ada di rumah Signorina”.

“Dia akan datang malam ini. Saya boleh suruh dia hubungi Signora. Signora bercakap dari Milano ke?”
“Ya, dan dia tahu nombor telefon saya. Terima kasih. Selamat petang Signorina”. Suara itu memutuskan percakapan.

Hairan, sedikitpun tidak ada ada kemarahan atau kepahitan pada suara Maria Antonietta, isteri sah Giorgio itu. Mungkin tujuh tahun telah mendamaikan sikapnya terhadap Giorgio. Apa sebenarnya yang begitu penting hingga dia menelefon ke rumahnya, Azizah berfikir. Giorgio jarang berceritakan hal isternya, dan Azizah sendiri tidak tahu apa sebab mereka berpisah. Dalam hubungan mereka memang tiada apa lagi, cuma anak mereka Luca. Soal perceraian mereka pun masih terapung-apung.

Inilah yang menjadi kerisauan kepada Azizah. Dia yakin hasrat Giorgio untuk mengahwininya adalah benar dan jujur. Giorgio telahpun kebelakangan ini memohon Mahkamah Gereja Katholik untuk membatalkan perkahwinannya dengan Maria Antonietta, satu-satu cara yang dibuat oleh orang tempatan sebagai alternatif kepada perceraian yang tidak boleh dilakukan. Tetapi pembatatalan itu memakan masa dan agak sukar walaupun boleh dicapai akhirnya.

Giorgio sering juga memujuk Azizah untuk menidurinya tetapi Aziah tegas dengan penolakannya. “Agamaku, pendidikanku dan peribadiku tidak membenarkannya. Kalau kau benar-benar sayang padaku tunggulah hingga kita bernikah”. Itulah jawapan tegas yang sering diberi oleh Azizah.

Giorgio tidak mendesak, tetapi Azizah khuatir juga sampai bila kesabaran Giorgio akan teruji. Giorgio, yang pernah beristeri itu, apalagi sebagai seorang lelaki Latin yang berdarah gemuruh tentu dari masa ke semasa perlu memenuhi keperluan jasmnainya. Lihat sahaja Franco, tidak habis-habis bertukar teman wanita. Tetapi Giorgio selalu menyakinkan Azizah bahawa dia tidak akan membelutinya. Azizah ingin percaya tetapi apa yang tidak diketahuinya tidak mengganggunya. Dia belum lagi mempunyak hak atas Giorgio.

Azizah sendiri amat cintakan Giorgio dan tidak pernah merasai sebahagia saperti yang dirasai sekarang, sejak menjalin hubungan dengan Giorgio. Baru lah ia faham ungkapan 'bagai menatang minyak yang penuh', kerana sedemikianlah Giorgio melayani hubungan mereka. Di saat2 kemesraan mereka Azizah pernah bergurau dengan menanyakan setakat manakah cinta Giorgio terhadapnya. Dan Giorgio dengan romantis menjawab, " Aku cinta pada mu Zizi, hari ini lebih dari semalam dan kurang dari esok...."

Namun demikian, Azizah amat peka bahawa dalam tiap-tiap kehidupan lelaki Itali, wanita yang paling penting ia lah ibu nya, walau pun ia telah berkahwin, atau mempunyai ratusan teman wanita pun. 'Mamma' ialah segala2 nya bagi saorang lelaki di negeri ini, sebab itu lah wujud nya expressi MAMMA MIA! Dan Giorgio pun tidak terkecuali dari sifat ini; dia tetap rapat dan terikat dengan ibu tua dan dua orang kakak nya yang tinggal di Bologna. Azizah sering mendengar perihal sasabuah rumahtangga di sini yang gugat disebabkan si isteri tidak tahan keterlaluan hubungan rapat si suami dengan ibu nya. Malahan saorang dari kenalan Azizah, Silvana, telah pun baru baru ini berpisah dengan suami nya walau pun mereka sudah mempunyi tiga orang anak disebabkan derita menerima kasih sayang suaminya yang berbelah bagi dengan si ibu!

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Azizah pernah berfikir sekiranya Giorgio memeluk agama Islam, serta-mereta dia layak beristeri lebih dari seorang. Tetapi dalam undang-undang Itali dia akan bersalah dan boleh didakwa berbigami kerana dia masih suami sah kepada Maria Antonietta. Permohonan pembatalan perkahwinan mereka masih tiada apa-apa perkembangannya. Bukan dia sahaja, malahan beribu-ribu permohonan masih tergantung termasuk permohonan Puteri Caroline, anak Putera Rainer dan Puteri Grace dari Monaco, yang mahu membatalkan perkahwinannya dengan playboy Philippe Junot.

Azizah sedar kontraknya dengan majikannya akan tamat tidak lama lagi. Dia mesti membuat sesuatu keputusan. Dia gemar dengan kerjanya dan kehidupan di kota Roma, lebih-lebih lagi dengan adanya Giorgio. Dia boleh memohon menyambung kontraknya dan sebaliknya jika dia berkahwin dengan Giorgio, soal kerja dan permastautinya di Itali tidak timbul lagi. Tetapi Giorgio masih belum membuat apa-apa tindakan yang khusus.

“Kenapa kita tidak tinggal bersama sahaja sebagai suami isteri? Apakah pentingnya sekeping kertas untuk mengesahkan taraf kita sebagai pasanngan yang sah. Aku cinta padamu lebih dari apa-apapun Zizi? Adakah itu tidak cukup? Cinta adalah segala-galanya, lebih penting dari apapun!” Giorgio akhirnya mengeluarkan fikirannya.

Azizah tidak terkejut dengan saranan Giorgio itu. Malahan dia agak anih kenapa sedemikian lama baru terkeluar kata-kata itu dari Giorgio.

"Kau lebih tahu yang itu adalah perkara mustahil buatkan Giorgio. Sabarlah, mungkin harapan suci kita akan tercapai juga". Azizah menjawab mengalah, namun di hati kecilnya dia mula merasa curiga yang Giorgio tidak akan sanggup bersabar dan menunggu.........

Luciano and his dog

A few nights ago Luciano called me from Rome to wish me Happy New Year. We had a nice, long conversation and ultimately the subject his dog came up! And we have had that conversation umpteenth time before! Luciano wants to visit me but just could not leave his dog behind! And again I would argue why he let a dog hold his freedom to travel to to ransom? And he would give me the same answer, ‘ ma tu non hai un cane, allora tu non lo sai ... ( but you don’t have a dog, so you don’t know!)”

Va bene, va bene! Mamma mia, MAMMA MIA....

I have known Luciano for over 25 years and though we do not see each other often, whenever me do it is always with the greatest warmth and friendship. He is one of the better English-speaking Italians I know and we could talk about everything under the sun. Of course we must talk about his unfinished Constable-inspired painting that he had been working on for years but yet to complete! And always have great laughs together. This time we were laughing about Italian national TV stations' penchant for endlessly broadcasting silly and purely-entertainment programmes featuring the compulsory skimpily-clad young women! Dosen't the Pope say anything!

My conversation with Luciano inspired me to look up a short story I wrote in 1990 about a Malay girl who lived and worked in Rome, and her love affair with a married (but separated) Italian man. They story gave me an avenue to utilise the colourful characteristics of the Italians (men and women) as I observed them during my four and a half years wonderful stay in Rome. I was also liberally dropping names of landmarks in Rome and Italy that I knew as a backdrops to my story. It was quite an indulgent piece and was told by some friends that it made interesting reading.

I never attempted to have the story published though, but used to print it out and present it to my lady friends on special occasions like birthdays or a Valentine Day.

In the following post is an except of the story, written in Bahasa Malaysia – I guess for my Malaysian friends only then.

I present Giorgio and Azizah (he calls her Zizi) ……

Sunday, January 4, 2009

Sleepless in New Zealand

A colleague being posted to Wellington asked me what I thought of the city and New Zealand . I told him frankly that if I had a choice I would not accept an assignment in Wellington . But for him with a school-going son, it could be an ideal place with the good English speaking education facilities there. Wellington would be too quiet and too far from anywhere for me and I would feel exiled!

I had been to New Zealand twice, once on a holiday and another for a meeting. It is a beautiful country for a visit, to live there is something else. During my holiday there, I had a strange experience.

I arrived Auckland from Sydney and was hosted by a dear friend who showed me around and made me feel really at home. The Maori backdrop of Auckland fascinated me. Two years later when I saw the powerful film “Once Were Warriors”, I began to better understand an aspect of the Maori life widely talked about then.

From Auckland we drove to Rotaroa and stayed with another friend, who had the most beautiful rose garden I ever saw, right by a picturesque river lined with weeping willows that you could row a beat on. It was lovingly tended to by a friendly Tongan (who was pleased to know of my association with my former Oxford classmate Tofa ( Maaulupekatofa Tuita - now the Honourable Lord Tuita, Minister of Minister of Lands, Survey, Natural Resources and Environment, brother-in-law to the present King of Tonga).

The first thing I noticed on arrival in Rotaroa was a nasty smell that permeated the air. I always joked about it that it was as if a giant had let out a huge, endless fart – excuse me!… ( the smelliest place on earth I have ever been to was a city in Peru called CIMBOTE. It was a fish processing and distribution centre and for the life of me, I wondered how people could live there with the perpetual stench. It should enter the Guinness Book of Record as the smelliest place on earth!) It was actually the smell of sulphur from the many hot springs and geysers which was a great attraction in that region.

I really had a wonderful time in Rotaroa, but I was feeling something strange – I had difficulty sleeping.

Leaving my friends there, I flew on to Wellington. It was the most frightening plane landing I ever experienced as Wellington was so windy that the plane shook like crazy!

I stayed with an old South Korean friend and colleague and his family in a beautiful hillside residential of Wellington. We had a very pleasant time together time but by then that strange feeling I had manifested itself even more. I could not sleep at right – not a wink!.

After a few days by which I got more groggy due to lack of sleep, I took a train to Christchurch . I saw more sheep then people during the few hours ride, and shared and empty coach with four noisy men with an endless supply of beer. At some point, I moved away from them and one guy asked, “What’s the matter mate, do we smell?”. Yeah, bingo mate!

My plan was to go on to Queenstown after Christchurch but after two further completely sleepless night, which I simply could not fathom, I went to the travel agent and booked the next flight back to Sydney. I immediately slept normally again upon returning to Sydney .

I related this experience to several people over time until someone, a doctor if I remember correctly, explained that it was a psychological effect of being very far away and cut off from a mainland/continent that resulted in my sleeplessness in New Zealand, which in fact is geographically in the middle of nowhere and far from the nearest mainland continent (talk about being exiled!). I wonder if many people get this feeling when they visited New Zealand , or even if it is a real phenomena!

In 2004, I had a three month sabbatical in Honolulu, Hawaii and before I going I was worried if I would suffer the same effect, Hawaii being even further than any mainland....!

Well, I actually slept like a baby throughout my stay in Hawaii, despite the noisy air con I had to put on to drown out the noise from the busy street my apartment was facing!

So there you have it.

Thursday, January 1, 2009

Jamil Sulong - Kaca Permata

With much time at hand these holiday season between Christmas and New Year, and the cold snowy weather keeping me indoor, I have been going through many hard-cover books in my possession. One that rather sustained my interest was an encyclopedic coffee-table book titled KACA PERMATA - Memoir Saorang Pengarah (GLASS JEWEL - A Director's Memoir) by a veteran and respected Malay film director Jamil Sulong. It was published by Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka in 1990.
Befitting its title, which actually a title of one of the films he directed, the book is a gem of reference materials for Malay movie buffs and can be inspirational to today's local movie makers. Jamil traced the history of Malay films right up to the 80s. All you want to know about Malay films till then and the stars are there. I particularly like the quaint black and white and sepia stills of the old movies and of the stars of the era. There was so much glamour and excitement in those Malay films of old, compared to today's mostly 'syok-sendiri' Malay films, some of which are down right pathetic.

I wonder what happened to Jamil Sulong these days. He had long stopped making films; age must be catching up with him. His wife Rosnani and son Anwardi were also active in the industry but you do not hear of them these days. Jamil Sulong was a prolific director during his Shaw Brothers day and his films were popular and had a great appeal. I particularly like his 1985 interpretation of Shahnon Ahmad 'RANJAU SEPANGANG JALAN' (No Harvest But A Thorn - Adibah Amin's very apt translation). The film was a critical but not a commercial success. I believe it has till today a wide international appeal and shown as an art/classic film. It is even listed in today's 1 January 2009 New York Times movie guide ( I just clicked on it - everything you want to know about the movie is there, great!)! Now why can't we in Malaysia even get a DVD copy of it....
I believe Jamil's last directorial effort was a remake of the late Tunku Abdul Rahman's MAHSURI, the original of which was made by Cathay Kris in the late 1950s. But for some reason it was a total flop and one never sees or hears of it anymore. Some people says it was sabotage; I for one had never seen the film.

I once met Jamil Sulong during my short stint at Angkasapuri when he was casting for his new film 'Permintaan Terakhir' (which was actually a remake of Hong Kong successful ' Suzanna' - see how Jamil had to succumb to Shaw Brother's dictate, just because they wre making a wide-screen Malay movie in COLOUR for the first time!). I was sent to see him by my then boss Kassim Aris and I remember Jamil sizing me up, looking me up and down and then inviting me to see him in his studio the next day. I did not go! Heavens forbid if I get casted! Anyway the film was a big success and launched the careers of Uji Rashid and Yusuf Haslam (coincidentally, when I was working in Angkasapuri, to get there daily I would take a Sri Jaya bus from Benteng in KL to Pantai Dalam, and who would be the bus conductor who collected the 25 sen fare from me everyday - Yusuf Haslam! Well done Datuk, you've gone a long way!).
Pak Jamil, I hope you are well and fine, Insha Allah. Rest-assured your great contribution will forever be remembered in the annals of Malay films. God bless you.

So how did I spend my cold, snowy new year's eve alone at home? I could not resist all those quaint photos of P. Ramlee throughout the ages in the book and I cropped, edited and assembled them to make a video tribute, herewith attached. Enjoy it and HAPPY NEW YEAR 2009.






Hydra - lanquid days on a Greek Island

In April 1985 I was invited to spend the Easter holiday in the Greek island of Hydra by my friends in Rome who had a villa there. I flew to Athens and went on the port of Piraeus, forty minutes away and then took a hydrofoil to Hydra.

I was met at the island port by George, a white South African who ran a guest house in the island. He brought a donkey to transport my luggage to my friends’ villa in a village on the other side of the island. No mechanised vehicles were allowed on that beautiful magical island of hills and rocks and quaint white-washed buildings.

George was the first of a myriad of people, local and from many parts of the world I would meet during my ten-day stay. He was an active anti-apartheid activist in his country, which got him imprisoned and tortured, he claimed. He showed me scars of his face and body! He had since denounced his country and became a Greek National.

My arrival was three days to Easter. For the Greek orthodox Christians, Easter was a big event and the built up to it was quite a spectacle. The day preceding Easter I was awakened by a loud signing from the church which was a stone’s throw from the villa. The singing went on all day and it was in fact a continuous recitation of prayers from a holy book, which would climax in a ritual in the late evening.

While the villages prepared for the next day’s festivities, I went around discovering the island. At the port there were many boats and luxury liners bringing in tourists for a few hours' visit. It was really bustling, colourful and had a festive air.

Evening came late and leisurely on the island that day. The recitation from the church continued late into the night. By then groups of people holding 2-foot thick candles had already gathered at the church. When the recitation finally stopped, loud firecrackers were set off in great, long, bursts. Then a procession of flower alters and religious objects to the sea ensued.

From the balcony of a friend’s villa overlooking the village waterfront, we watched a magnificent sight of thousands of candle lights meandering down the hills to the waterfront. The flower alters were then floated out to sea.

Supper at George’s guesthouse was followed by lively dancing to loud Greek music till the wee hours. On my way home I stopped at a rocky edge to look at the full moon’s reflection on the silvery water.
Next day, it was like a competition who could turn their Greek music loudest in the village, and it went on all day. After a late barbecue lunch, I went for a long solitary walk up the rocky hills and gathered wild flowers. I later put these in a ceramic vase and placed it on my bedroom window sill and took a photograph of it. Years later my dear French artist friend Michelle Van Besian made a lovely painting based on the photo; it proudly hangs in my living room now and has often been a conversation piece

I stayed another week in Hydra and made visits to Athens (and once got on a wrong hydrofoil and ended up in another island and had to be rescued!). I thoroughly basked in the languid, lazy days and natural friendliness and curiosity of the local people. And I never tire of walking up and down the endless narrow passages meandering from the village to the port and vice verse.

On the day of my departure, George’s donkey and attendant accompanied me to the port in the still dark hour of the morning. As me meandered the narrow road I could see the glorious colour of daylight slowly rising from the calm water surrounding the magnificent island.