M'Lop Tapang Centre for Street Children

Founded by 4 young Khmers, M'Lop Tapang was conceived under the shade of a tree on the beach, hence its name. The organisation has been offering care and support to young people at risk in Sihanoukville since 2003. It provides access to education, medical care, counselling, vocational training and recreational activities while protecting the children from all forms of abuse.

We were greeted by Wanti, the education officer of M'Lop Tapang as he stood by a yellow coloured truck -- our transport from the guest house to the centre for the coming days. The ride was fun. We stood on the truck and enjoyed every bump as the driver negotiated the potholed roads and narrow lanes. But the fun was shortlived when we arrived at the centre. The sight of young children, many without footwears and shirts or tops sank our hearts. Later we saw babies in the baby room lying down on the floor without shorts and diapers. We were guided to the meeting room (on the upper floor of the building) for the welcoming remarks by the Director of the centre.

Despite the humongous challenge confronting them -- to provide non-formal education to the street children with the hope that they eventually be admitted to state schools, against the wishes of their parents who rather have them on the streets and beaches to beg or sell knick-knacks for an income to the family -- both Wanti and his Director appeared calm and collected sourced almost by an inherent inner peace, I reckoned.

The children crowded around us, everytime we arrived at the main centre, or at the slump schools. Many clinged to us, as though they found their long lost parents. Their deep eyes, troubled looks and erratic (and aggressive) behaviours were expressions of untold stories and psychological conditions. We came to offer help, but instead discovered our own human frailties as we wrestled our emotions, and the fear of giving these children the false hope and expectations of love.

Can we detach ourselves from the emotions and get the job which we came for, done? Should we not smile, hold their hands when they grabbed ours and play games with them to show that we care? Perhaps, this is what matters to them, and will make them happy.

We came to conduct art and basic numeracy classes at the centre, and build an eco-garden on the grounds of the slump school. Most of us were not prepared for the emotional roller-coaster but we took it in our stride. By the end of each day, many in the team "adopted" a child or children, and bonded with them.

It was selfless giving and receiving all day, everyday. We came to give, but I felt we were the beneficiaries instead.

A truly awesome life-changing experience for me.

Cambodia: First Impressions

First impressions have a powerful place in memory, and so it is that I remember with startling clarity stepping out of Pochentong Airport on 15 June 2010. I was an "unofficial" member of the POLARIS expedition and we had to spend a night in Phnom Penh before travelling to Kampong Som (Sihanoukville) where M'Lop Tapang is based.

Pitou, our contact in Cambodia greeted us on arrival. Slim-built, unassuming yet competent, gracious and extremely helpful. A student of tourism at the local university, Pitou organised our programme, accommodation, transport and acted as our translator.

Pochentong Airport is about 2.5 miles away from the centre of Phnom Penh, and given that there were 23 of us, and a heap of boxes (of rations, stationeries, and cooking utensils) as well as our luggages, I eagerly expected a coach to ferry us to our guest house. Instead, Pitou had us, our luggages and boxes on a motorcade of tuk-tuks, a six seater rickshaw powered by a motorcycle from the airport to Paragon Hotel. We were thrilled by the ride, as we sampled the architectural and demographic character of the city, its potpourri of scent and strong smell of barbecued meat.

We arrived at Paragon Hotel at sunset. The hotel overlooks the Tonle Sap river. Sandwiched by pubs, cafes and massage parlours, the hotel is attractive to budget travellers such as the middle-aged American (with a Macintosh in his hand) who was curious to know where I came from and the purpose of our visit. After a quick view of our room and dropping off our luggages, we marched along a dimly-lit road of shophouses and curious onlookers. Who could blame them. We stood out like black ninjas. With our black attire, and sisters in hijab, everyone on the street looked at us as we passed through the road, looking for the Halal restaurant. We found one, although not the restaurant in mind. The place was full, with Malaysians who had just arrived from KL. To make way for us, the Malaysians were nudged by the restaurant owners to leave the moment they finished their meals. The lady who acted like the manager-cum-waiter of the restaurant, suggested that we have the same menu as the Malaysians: tom-yam, omelette, fish, mixed vegetables with white rice. Too tired to think, and too hungry to argue, we agreed with her "instructions". We ate dinner for the stomach. For taste, I thought the tom-yam was too sweet for my liking and therefore complemented it with small cut chilli padi(s). After dinner we walked straight back to the hotel for our first briefing (and introductions).

We assembled at the hotel reception and walkway with our bags and boxes early next morning to wait for our chartered coach that will take us on the 4 hour ride to Sihanoukville. There was hustle and bustle on the corniche, and the road next to it. Foreigners and locals, joggers and peddlers, motorcyclists, and an elephant (with its keeper) were sharing the road, making it an eventful (and delightful) morning.

My first impression of Phnom Penh resonated with Yaya's (one of our team member). She described the city as broken and beautiful.

To me, the city may be broken, but the people are definitely beautiful.

We Will Not Go Down

The Early Hours

The taxi driver remembered the old Alkaff Kampong Melayu Mosque at the top of Kaki Bukit when I mentioned that I wished to be taxi-ed to the mosque at Bedok Reservoir. He even remembered the old clinic housed in a building made of wood, nearby the old mosque and the surrounding Malay village. It was just before 4am and the conversation brought back childhood memories. I hoped it had broke the monotony of the quiet morning and the deserted road for him, as he searched for the next passenger after we exchanged thanks and goodbyes.

When I reset the alarm on my handphone to wake me up for this journey, it was just over 3 hours left to fulfil its function. I almost shrieked at the amount of time left for sleep. But it was indeed a good sleep despite how brief it was. Perhaps a hypothesis may be apt here: The quality of sleep and the ease to wake from sleep depend on the significance attached to the task or activity to be done after waking-up. Or put it another way: The task and its significance determine the quality of sleep that precedes it.

The early hours are precious but often neglected time during the night. This is the time during which Allah is closest and most receptive to His servants. Rasulullah (saw) said: Our Lord descends each night to the nearest Heaven when only the last third of night remains, and says: "Is anyone praying that I may answer him? Is anyone seeking forgiveness, that I may forgive him? Is anyone asking, that I may give him?" and this continues until dawn (Tirmidhi).

The later part of each night is the most conducive period for reflection and self-development. It is the occasion with the most potential for the heart to be present, alert and free of worldly concerns as the Quran declares: Lo! The vigil of the night [a time] when impression is more keen and speech more certain [al-Muzzammil 73:6].

The beautiful recitation of Al-Baqarah for the Tahajjud prayer nourished the soul and energised the mind. It was opportunity to check what I had memorised in the past. Beyond the exercise of the mind, the prayer - its recital and supplication was a Mi'raj for me. I wanted to ascend to Him, to seek forgiveness and mercy.

The 1.5 hours Tahajjud and Witr prayers were completed without noticing time and as though time did not matter. How different it was compared to other prayers in the day when worldly affairs dictate the time to spend for prayers - and even during prayer, these affairs occupied the mind. It was pointed out by Ustaz Zainal Abidin during kuliah subuh (the Talk after Fajr Prayer) that we never think of Allah when we go shopping, but we think of shopping even during our prayer, when we are supposed to be praying in a state of khusyu' (full concentration) in Allah's presence. I am no exception. Only Allah knows how I wish my heart trembles and my faith increases when His revelations are recited [al-Anfal:2].

Yet it was not just another ordinary morning. There was the eclipse of the moon, something that rarely takes place. It is another sign of Allah's Greatness. We performed the Prayer of the Eclipse (Salatul Kasuf) and it was my first.

A bountiful morning, indeed. Tahajjud, Witr, Kasuf and its sermon, followed by Fajr and a talk. Accompanied by the beautiful recital of the Quran, believers who came and prayed together to seek His forgiveness, and angels who witnessed the beautiful gathering.

What better way to spend the early hours?

Alhamdulillah.

Best Friends Forever

It was difficult to explain the silence or disappearance, since the last entry some two weeks ago. Many thoughts, issues and ideas nested in my tired mind as neurons fired and competed with each in my overworked brain.

The entry on UMMA Community Clinic generated several interesting responses, including comments from friends who I thought had given up on me. I had prompted whether we should focus our energy, resources and attention to build an institution akin to, and taking inspiration from UMMA. From a "leadership training institute" to "it should be about championing a cause than an institution - a cause galvanises people, not an institution", the responses were passionate and assertive. I particularly favoured the call and claim that we share a common cause - to create leaders. Comments were also made and appended to the entry, which I am most thankful for.

There were many other happenings worthy of sharing.

A discussion on forgiveness after the reading of a hadith on the subject and The Forgiver (Al-Ghaffar) surfaced many instances when we felt hurt and angry, yet recognised the need to forgive. Easy said than done. To err is human and to forgive, divine. At work, we were reminded to "clear (or clean) the account" between colleagues so as to strengthen our relationship and soul. Put simply, we must settle any issues or disagreements before it gets worse, before bad blood rears its ugly head and be manipulated by Satan. Surah Al-Hujurat offers useful pointers and lessons to maintain a healthy interpersonal account.

To celebrate ND observance at Madrasah Aljunied, I wore a pink shirt (sorry: I don't have a red shirt, and didn't have time to get one at Mustafa Centre) for the first time in my life! For many years I wore my usual grey and black (for a formal and distinguished look) but it looked like I am dressed for a funeral when everyone else is dressed to party. And the pink shirt worked. I blended with the colours, songs and atmosphere, and even cheered the Madrasah student who read a poetry in Malay to salute our nation. Zainul, our Corp Comm maestro and one of many best friends at work, remarked that I have gone mad that morning, at the madrasah. It was a joyful event - thanks to Musliha's SRC team and Madrasah Aljunied.

The Famous Five met as agreed and we renewed friendship that spanned over decades. Interestingly our conversation meandered into the "No Permanent Friends, Only Permanent Interests" question. Against the backdrop of our effort to strengthen social cohesion and harmony, to develop good relationship with neighbours and friends - NPFOPI appears to be a paradox if not an irony. We agreed to continue our conversation and I was tearful when they decided to rename Famous Five to Usrah Pak Mat in the honour of my father.

Friends like family are the oxygen to our life. Like oxygen, we take them for granted and in so doing do not accord its rightful place and value.

What is life without friends and friendship?
Let's be BFF to someone else and many others.

In Need of Him

It suddenly felt as if I was losing control of time. My days went without any reflection and much rest. I went from one meeting to another, often back-to-back without any interval in between. From MClub to REA, to Aloha Loyang for Perkemas to Darul Arqam to Taman Warisan, my weekly class with Daniel and weddings among several others, I hardly had time to read the daily papers, let alone blog. The baking heat on Saturday afternoon and lack of rest had its effect on me. I nearly went "black-out" at Sultan Mosque, if not for the zuhur prayer and the attendant supplications that occupied my mind and heart, and kept me conscious.

It may not get any better, I feared. To break the cycle (or perhaps compound the problem) I added 3 books to my collection - The Southeast Asia Diversity Dilemma by Sree Kumar and Sharon Siddique, Presence by Peter Senge, et al, and The Shock Doctrine by Naomi Klein. What have I achieved?, I asked myself. Well, I have delivered my commitment to facilitate a strategic retreat for Perkemas to develop their action plan. We also launched the REA website and through it opened invitation for applications and nominations for the award, after some months of gestation.

On the outset, I need not feel any guilt since I have earned and deserved my keep, without a doubt. To be busy is better than lazing around passing time. Only if the busy is worth being busy for. But how do we measure or assess it? Am I trapped in busyness but of no significance or impact for the greater good? Should I not consider doing one, or two, or even perhaps three things that I am good at, and with it comes greater and more meaningful contribution to society. Should I focus to do less for more? And hopefully I will have a little bit more time for my prayers and to feel His presence.

Amidst the list of things to do, which gets longer each day, I cannot help but wonder whether all this running around is doing good for my soul.

I need to keep trying to find myself in need of Him,
to connect the state of my heart and the nature of my act,
"as if one sees Him" to inspire my being and doing.

Only for the Love of Him

How do we love the Prophet (saw)?
Can we love someone who we have not met?
Do we love the Prophet the same way we love another person, say our parents or even our sweetheart?

These questions and many others occupied us last night. We read and shared our understanding of Surah Al-Maun and Al-Kauthar after maghrib prayer. The discussion was honest and lively. And while we recognized our limited knowledge it did not deprive anyone from sharing his/her understanding and thoughts. We were eager to learn and share and accept that there may be many readings, meanings and interpretations from a single phrase or an idea.

The “we” refers to NTUMS exco members and I. They invited me to share reflections on niyyah (intentions) since they will be completing their term soon. But we tangent off into discussing the verses of the two Surah, and spent some time on what it means to love our Prophet (saw).

“I found a book Senyuman dan Kenangan Manis bersama Rasulullah and it contains stories of Prophet’s life”, said a sister – and paused. She’d lost for words to describe her joy of knowing the Prophet through the stories. “Like he’s perfect. And I so want to marry him…” quipped a brother. “Ya”, the sister concurred, instantly.

How do we know we are loving the Prophet (saw)?
Is it by practicing his traditions and living the way he lived, thinking what he thought, doing what he did?

Can we love him by loving what he loved?
To plagiarize predicate logic: A=B, B=C and therefore A=C

Can we love him by replicating how others loved him?

Is this love that reciprocates?
Is this love personal?
That each has its own way of loving the Prophet (saw)?

I was thankful for the questions. Without questions there will be no answers, and a search for its meaning. I reminded myself to keep yearning for his love and to love him even if I have yet to discover what that means. Hopefully, I will discover and experience it, in whatever state appropriate - subliminal, metaphysical or in the depth of my dream.

It was not all questions and no deeds, or love unconcretised! – I was delightfully surprised when they presented me a cake, a card and a pencil box made of straw from Cambodia (I thought) for my birthday, at the end of the session just before I took my leave. It was very thoughtful of them and I truly appreciate the effort.

Not to mention, the love amongst them only for the love of Him.

Weekend Whoosh !

It was a super-hectic weekend, but a fulfilling one, I must say. It begun on Friday evening to prepare for my niece's nikah ceremony and reception, at my sister's house, to Lagun Sari where it happened on Saturday. From Lagun Sari we rushed home for a change before another drive to Yishun Safra for the reception hosted by the groom's family. By the time we bid goodbye to our host, my head was spinning and all it needed was a good crash on the bed. Over this morning's breakfast, I pondered and replayed the thoughts that went through my mind at the wedding reception. Interestingly, weddings (and funerals) brought family closer and drew distant relatives and long lost acquaintances for the ocassion. I met and re-established old family ties, including distant cousins whom during our younger days were not best of friends, always trying to get at each other, if you know what I mean. But I have forgiven all, and let bygones be bygones. Time will heal, and absence makes the heart grew fonder. How true!

In the midst of receiving and welcoming guests at Lagun Sari, I received a phone call from another almost long lost friend - a brother who some time back called me out of nowhere to learn about Islam. Since then, Daniel and I have been meeting every Sunday at Al-Ansar Mosque to go through Islam 101. Last year just before Ramadan, I accompanied him to Darul Arqam and together with Dr Siti Mariam, we witnessed his conversion to Islam. More recently I answered many of his queries on the Malay culture in preparation for his marriage to his childhood friend, a lady by the name of Ayu. They were both from the same village in Kedah, but work has brought Daniel to Singapore and Ayu to Kuala Lumpur. We have not met for some time since it was not easy to align our schedules: my overseas travel and his weekend trips to Kedah or KL, to attend Marriage Preparation Course, wedding arrangements, and family matters. We agreed to resume our weekly class (ps: he called me Cikgu).

Whilst sipping tea at Al-Ansar's cafe with Daniel, I saw another long lost friend, a former colleague who was walking on the road with his wife on their way to the market. We exchanged happenings in our life and I introduced him to Daniel. He invited us to his house as and when we are at the mosque, just like during the time we were working in the same office when he invited me (and other colleagues) to his house after Friday prayer for lunch prepared by his wife. He took early retirement to focus on his other interests - reading and writing, although he spent more time swimming and running now.

After lunch with Daniel, I went home to put my thoughts together for my next engagement - the talk on Rumahtangga Dakwah, an invitation I initially declined but later agreed to deliver, for reasons best left unknown. It continued on the bus and all I managed to put together were squiggles and phrases, which later somehow unfolded itself into phases of (marriage) life and some sense of coherence.

As I paced myself just before the talk, it became clear that the participants had all they needed to build Rumahtangga Dakwah. The previous speakers did an outstanding job to share their experiences and insights, and to match ideals with realities. The groupwork, with its attendant drawings on mahjong paper and presentations by representatives from respective groups, prior to my talk heightened their energy level but that made it more difficult for me, since mine would just be plain rambling.

I will not do justice to attempt a summary of my talk in this entry. But suffice to say, it came straight from my heart - and I hope it did some good to our younger brothers and sisters as they pursue their journey of life, as du'at with their spouse or spouse-to-be, including the singles who will one day enter into marriage.

Back at home, I felt the fear of not being able to live up to those ideals I espoused during the talk. All we can do is try, and ask Allah for His mercy and guidance. Not to try is not an option.

It felt like the week passed in a blink.
And certainly a weekend that went in a whoosh!

May Allah accept our deeds and our yearning for His forgiveness.

Renewed Beginnings

He was deep in thought. How best to spend tomorrow when he turn a year older, was the question upmost in his mind. Recollecting what little snippets and images of previous birthdays was one option. Listing all his feats was another. But that will not be good for the soul and serves no purpose, his heart and mind wrestled to maintain humility. He even contemplated a bucket list, but that too may be misconstrued as achievements, post-dated. Back to square one and to the drawing board.

The easy option is to live just like any other day. After all, a day passed is a day older. Why the need for an annual marker and celebrations on the date he was born? Perhaps to express joy for the gift of life. Some find it a good excuse to throw a party! Poor kids, they were the ones made to put on the silly party cones on their heads and left to be entertained by the clowns while their parents and adults were busy networking and talking Great Singapore Sale.

But to go through the day in auto-pilot is not befitting a birthday. Maybe he should get himself a gift, to mark the special day. And for all the hardwork and sacrifices, he certainly deserved it and more. This will capture the moment and freeze the day for posterity, but it is too easy a task. Not to mention that it may not be too meaningful. Unless the gift is a seed that will grow grains to feed the poor in the world, or a mixture that will produce tablets to heal the wounds from decades of anger and hatred among nations.

He can take a day off from work and visit a home for the elderly to entertain them. Or make their wish whichever possible, come true. Such acts are for "others", a public act, however noble it may be. It is not a private one-on-one act with himself, an autopoiesis of sorts.

What difference does it make? Whether it is a public affair or a private act, community service or personal trance. What matters is how he will spend his remaining life to leave behind good deeds that multiply itself in his absence, impart knowledge that benefit others and raise a family that is pious and with good morals and character.

Any further analysis will lead to paralysis, he reckoned.

Birthdays should give birth renewed beginnings.
Not passing through life adrift.

Have a blessed and blissful beginning, Dr B.

Keeping To Schedule

We had an earful for not keeping to schedule. There was in actual fact no schedule to keep in the first place, although we once mentioned that the building will be ready in December. Nonetheless we accepted our failings and the brunt for taking things lightly, or so it was perceived. Keeping to schedule was the lesson for the day. It was a painful lesson, from someone who is known to be unforgiving to those who are not punctual or prompt.

"You are not prompt! I waited and no one came, so I paid my students to do the job. This is the problem of our community. We are not prompt", he raised his voice and his eyebrows stretched in synchrony. He could not wait for us. There were other projects on the line and engagements overseas including his trip to Japan.

I took it in my stride and bore no grudges. How could I? It was after all, a pro quid pro for the beautiful artwork on the clay tiles produced by his students. We could not produce anything close to those pieces, I told myself. He showed us a basketful of rejects - our clay tiles that did not make to the furnace, or failed to withstand the heat.

We thanked him for his patience and understanding. I also promised to be prompt from now on although it may be mission impossible since delivery could only be made when several parties, each with different level of resources and capabilities have completed their part.

It is not as though we have not experienced it ourselves - the inconvenience of late delivery or poor quality work over and above missing deadlines. Today I had a repeat. The website due last week and later rescheduled for today did not arrive. Although I can be generous to make allowances and accept whatever reasons given, I will not be truthful if I say I am not disappointed. Particularly when the delay had dented my credibility, even more after today.

Our interconnected world and work form an extended production cycle. The work we do (or don't) affect other cycles too. The 'output' we produced became an 'input' to another process in the cycle. Similarly the output produced by other processes are input to ours.

Unless the work we do is self-contained and a closed system, we must accept the fact that our actions (or inactions) will have an impact on the work of others, and by extension, its outcomes.

There could be many reasons for failing to deliver or keep to schedule. A very common mistake is overcommitment. Taking too much work beyond the limited resources at our disposal, without malice and often because we are not able to decline requests or say 'no' to the other.

We may not be aware the extent of inconvenience caused by our late delivery or delay to others.

Do not do unto others what you do not want others to do unto you.
And make no promises if you cannot keep them.

Some golden rules to live by.

Common Sense

We can decide to go on doing the same thing, or even doing nothing but pretend that our contributions are far reaching, changing lives and building communities. Like performance review exercise, sensemaking is necessary to review and make sense of the things we do. In fact, sensemaking precedes performance review exercise. The former is about doing the right things and the latter, doing things right. Admittedly it is difficult to excite ourselves if we have not done much to make sense out of it in the first place. To paraphrase, how do we go "upstream" if we have no handle on the "downstream"?

Nonetheless this is what leaders are expected to do. To tackle the entropy head-on or take the bull by its horn, so to speak, although oftentimes it is lonely up there, or down somewhere.

To assist our sensemaking exercise, a simple matrix of four quadrants is a useful start to posit questions and to cohere the entries or responses to these questions. Notwithstanding the one dimensional limitation of this entry, the quadrants are dedicated for responses to the following questions:

What is our role?
What is the content to deliver?
Who are the target audience?
What are the goals to achieve?

To summarise, its a Role-Content-Target-Goals (RCTG) matrix.

Let's try to fill up the matrix.

Role = Befriender
Content = ?
Target Audience = Youth-At-Risk
Goals = Keep them in school, better academic achievements, improved social skills

There are several possibilities for content and process for the befriender to work with the youth-at-risk to achieve the specified goals. These include learning skills, personalised tuition for subjects that required attention, team-building exercises, outdoor endurance games, to list a few.

For many of us who had dabbled with strategic plans, scenario planning exercises and horizon scanning endeavours, this matrix looked overly simple and simplistic to capture the rich and multifaceted dimensions of the 5Ws and the How, to make a good strategy.

I agree.

However sensemaking begins with common sense.
Unfortunately common sense is not common anymore.

Farhana and Yunus: Baarakallahu laka ..

My wife and I exchanged smiles when we saw our wedding photos. These photos were among the collection of photographs in the album, left by my late father in my sister's house. We were invited this evening to my sister's house for a video recording in preparation for her daughter's (my niece's) wedding next weekend. It appeared that all the uncles and aunties had offered their best wishes on video and we were invited to do the same. Amidst the gifts and the wrappings, the living room was turned into a recording studio complete with cameras and lights, and a professional video-photographer.

After a brief "syura" in my mother's bedroom, my wife and I braved ourselves to face the camera. I had warned the video-photographer to be prepared for several cuts, to get the best video clip possible. At the count of three and the cue by the video-photographer, I introduced myself and shared a brief citation for my niece - her special qualities and how proud I was when she took upon herself to pursue her university education while working in the social service sector - championing the yellow ribbon cause for public to embrace former prison inmates. I ended my three minutes rambling with a do'a -- To Nur Farhana:

Baarakallahu laka wa baaraka 'alaika wa jama'a bainakumma fi khairin.

May Allah bless for you (Yunus, your spouse-to-be), and bless you, and may He unite both of you in goodness.

My wife then shared how she first met Farhana (then a baby in my sister's arm) and recollected how our niece had grown into a lady. She offered her advice and reminded that marriage requires not only love but also lots of patience and understanding.

We smiled because the task of wrapping the gifts for the groom, and the gifts itself were unconventional to say the least. There was no actual wrapping - all the gifts were placed in woven baskets for all to see. The free-sized maroon and black organza cloth served as linings for the trays to place some smaller gifts. And we could never have guessed what those gifts were, until we saw it ourselves - Playstation 3, Nokia Handphone, Newcastle United Football Shirt, cologne along with a shirt and 2 pieces of prayer mat (sejadah).

It used to be shoes, shirts, belt, wallet, watch, cologne and sejadah, I thought. That's what I got from my wife and we certainly did not have a video-photographer to produce a montage and capture the wishes for viewing on the wedding day. And not to mention the wedding planner - that which was unheard off, when we got married some 25 years ago.

Playstation or not, we pray for their future happiness and a marriage that will last in this world and the Hereafter.

Ameen.

WYSIWYG

What you see is what you get. WYSIWYG (pronounced we-see-wig) is the shorthand for human-computer interface of mouse, pull-down menus and objects. I have modified it to become what you SEEK is what you get to impress upon students the need to set academic targets before their departure for overseas studies.

After listing the Muslim students who gained 1st class honours from local universities, as reported in Berita Harian recently, I asked them whether it had occurred to them to set their sights at 1st class honours, summa cum laude or in their case, mumtaz sharaf. Only a few hands were raised representing a small percentage of the entire cohort that participated this year's Pre-Departure Programme.

I tried very hard to excite them and to make them appreciate the significance of good academic grades. We need religious officers and leaders who excelled in their studies to lead and shape the religious life of our community, I stressed. Somewhat I felt the students were not "hungry" for good grades, with the exception of a few female students. I also shared that law graduates of overseas universities will need to achieve a 2nd upper honours for them to be admitted to the Bar. Perhaps we should suggest to the Asatizah Recognition Board (ARB) to recognise only those with at least Jayyid Jiddan (Very Good) as asatizah for gainful employment, to change mindset and attitude.

It is worrying when students who are able to gain good grades and are expected to lead the community do not possess the drive and determination to realise their fullest potential. It is even more worrying when they do not have an inkling of how important it is to set high standards and the expectations the community have on them, never mind the perception that students in the Middle East do not take their studies seriously.

I told them to remember WYSIWYG and they will not get what they did not seek. Almost in desperation, I told them to be a) focus, b) consistent and, c) determined along with the simple formulae of dividing their life into three one-thirds, for three tasks - studying, socialising and sleeping. And if they can divide their 24-hours a day for these three activities consistently, I have no doubt they can gain a breakthrough over what is currently a self-imposed glass ceiling.

The Q+A segment was dominated by the female students.
I didn't think that I managed to get my message and excitement across to the other gender.

To console and comfort myself, I hypothesised that the law of magnetism prevailed during the session: opposite poles attract and similar poles repel.

Not because the male students were not interested.
I wished this was true.

Putting It Together

"If everything else fails, we can become event managers!" remarked a colleague while we were trying to tie loose ends and putting the event together - the stage, the movements, the video and the cues for the Master of Ceremony. After about three years of organising large scale conferences, lectures and receptions, we have developed the standard operating procedures (SOP) into fine art.

It is a wonder that we spent months of preparation and hours of rehearsal for an event which lasted less than two hours. But if we did not spend the time to prepare and rehearse, the outcome would be obvious: embarrassment and possibly heads will roll, for the damage on corporate image. But somehow I felt that we are continuously raising the standards by our own doing.

I have always found myself taking up the coordination role and for my debut at the last Workplan Seminar I almost earned the honorific title Mr Put It Together (PIT for short) - trying to put it all together to make the segments seamless and the whole event a harmonious interplay of speech, multimedia, awards presentation, group photography, etc. And it will only work when everyone is willing to be bullied into rehearsals after harsh criticisms.

And I too have been criticised for what appeared to be an unacceptable act of micro-management. The function of coordination has often be ignored or considered unimportant. The many independent and separate items or segments will need to be put together to make the "story" complete and interesting.

I sometimes asked myself whether this is all necessary. The months and hours of planning and practice. And there were moments when I felt that perhaps we should just take it easy (and chill out) and pray that everything will fall into place. But how can that be so?

We had ourselves in the past, attended a function or event that started later than scheduled, perhaps because the actors were still trying to tie loose ends. When the sound system did not deliver the necessary decibels and the stage was quite a circus (forgive the expression).

I am now convinced the way to honour our guests who had forgo other engagements to grace our ocassion is to ensure our events run smoothly and even with military precision. If we stated in our invitation card that the event will start at 9.00 am and end at 11.00 am, it must start and end on time, as a matter of principle.

Taking up this role implies taking responsibility for the effective and successful execution of the entire event, something many usually did not consciously realise and understand its implication. It also means that we must not lose sight of the objectives and outcomes while we pay attention to stage work and programme details.

The importance of going through the sequence and rehearsal repeatedly until everyone involved understood their scripts and internalised their roles cannot be overemphasised.

No one leaves the rehearsal until everyone has given their best.
And only when objectives and outcomes are clearly understood.

Putting it together is doing it all together.

The Spirit Is Willing ..

.. but the flesh is weak. But for these students, the assignments were piling-up past deadlines. Without doubt, it must be a challenge to work in the day and attend classes over the weekends. And juggling time between work, family, study and community must be difficult, if not impossible. I understood their predicament as I had been there and done it, for some six years before university. Hence they deserved plaudits and admiration, no less. Together as a group they encouraged and supported each other to move on and move ahead.

We discussed the possibility of an offer by the university to vary the programme to assist them to complete the programme and graduate. It meant that they will no longer be required to write a thesis but a shorter and less demanding essay, instead. Additional courses will be offered to facilitate their independent study to develop and write their essay, and to meet the credit hours for graduation.

To their credit they were not keen to take the "easier" route. And I was surprised at their response. I personally did not consider it an easier route but an appropriate route considering their circumstances. To continue with the more demanding thesis option will be risky for most of them given the assignments they have yet to complete. To be honest, I was relieved when the university offered the essay option notwithstanding the consequence that these students may not gain admission to the doctoral programme, after their Masters. But thinking about a PhD before completing the Masters will be putting the cart before the horse.

Perhaps going for anything less than the "full" load was less macho or even caused a dent in self-esteem. Almost an irony, the effort to match capability with reality became the steroid that inflates their self-worth and moved them to "go-for-broke". We decided to allow them to choose one of the two options: a) thesis and b) essay plus additional courses to meet the number of credits. I wished them well, truly and sincerely. The essay option does not make them a lesser graduate, I reiterated.

It is interesting how we (humans) react to such challenges.
We rise to the occasion when we risk "losing face" or self-worth.
Is it because we knew what our potential are but felt no reason to realise it? Or on the other hand, denial of reality?

It is human to know our limits.
It takes much courage to acknowledge it.

ps: Limits <> Weakness.

Deeds Over Voice

It was supposed to be a short and simple interview. All we need to do was to ascertain whether the candidate was capable of completing course successfully, the funds needed to pay for tuition and living expenses, and what would be his contributions to the community upon graduation and return to Singapore. But it took a different turn instead.

I found interviews, whether it was for a job or scholarship, a learning experience. Often times, it was unpredictable. It may start on a high note but ended low due to the probing questions, the jitters and the unconvincing responses. As first impression lasts, many candidates tried their best to impress the interviewers. The "first look" factor is also a determinant for good chemistry and will influence outcome. Since interview is a two-way process and a human activity, the response or reply offered by the candidate will in turn influence the energy and enthusiasm of the interviewers. Through interviews I learnt to assist candidates to close information gaps or clarify their own thoughts. Not to outdo, outperform or outlast them.

Although we tried to be helpful candidates must also realise that they have to make the interview work in their favour. Never answer a question with another question.

Consider this:

Q: "Will you return home upon completion of the course, or continue to stay on overseas?"
A: .... [a long pause] "Do my community need me?"

What followed was an expression of disappointment over the community and the lack of opportunity to contribute views and opinions, or a voice, as it was referred to. The pursuit of a higher degree was meant to give him a voice that is credible and taken seriously.

I am of the view that one need not require a voice to make a difference. They are many unsung heroes who are contributing to society through small and simple but meaningful deeds, I said.

"That can be deafening" he rebutted.

What good is voice without deeds? I asked myself.

And I went on to remind myself the warning:
Why do you say that which you do not do? [Q 61:2]

Read and Write

Once I wrote in my CV for the organiser of a talk which I was invited to deliver, that I dream of running a second-hand bookshop for my retirement so that I am able to continue reading the books that I have yet to read in my collection. Indeed the wall-to-wall bookself at home, is now pregnant with books, not only placed vertically but also horizontally concealing those that were already there.

Today I received another 10 books from Pascasarjana UIN Syarif Hidayatullah and its Centre for Study of Religion and Culture, when we visited senior academics and researchers at these institutes for further collaboration. These books were authored by their academics and researchers for use by their students and the reading public. Fortunately I meant it for our students and therefore I did not have to crack my head to find space on the shelf.

Before our meeting with the researchers of CSRC, I requested to visit Batu Bara - a small bookshop but lumayan (well stocked) according to Dr Fuad Jabali who accompanied us to this shop. Not obvious from the outside on the gang (narrow lane), without Dr Fuad I will never be able to locate it. I had wanted to spend more time going through the books in the shop if not for the meeting at CSRC. I left the bookshop without buying any book. I felt less-than-generous and the visit, incomplete.

Bookshop-crawling (to plagiarise the British's Pub-crawling) has always been my hobby and a must for all my trips and travels. And the consequence is obvious. I purchased (and collected) books more frequently and in larger numbers than for my wardrobe. So you can find me in Waterstones in the UK, Periplus in Jakarta, the AUC Bookshop in Cairo and certainly Borders and Kino in Singapore and KL. My latest find was Page One at Vivocity and what a wonderful view of the waterfront facing Sentosa. And the books had now taken up all available shelf space in the living room, the study and my bedroom.

As I glanced the books everyday the urge to write a book (some day) became stronger. Not for the ego, but to contribute to the existing body of knowledge in a domain that cuts across and transcends the compartmentalised faculties and subject matters. My colleagues had asked me often times when will I be writing my book. My reply for the interim was: I am still brewing it!

The young researchers at CSRC were insightful and generous with their findings. I was very impressed with their research outputs and going by the books they published, I am convinced that the educational process and intellectual drive at the tertiary institutions to produce thinkers and scholars were effective. In fact I had wanted to ask Pak Azra and his senior academics how they created the vibrant culture of intellectual development and scholarship to continuously sail in the sea of knowledge, to quote Oliver Wendel Holmes who said:

Greatness is not in where we stand,
but in what direction we are moving.
We must sail sometimes with the wind
and sometimes against it -- but sail we must,
and not drift, nor lie at anchor.

I have always maintained that in order to write one must read.
Are we (only) reading parts rather than the whole,
Or are we reading the text but not understanding its meaning?
hence we are unable to systemise our thoughts, as Dr Fuad argued.

Will I ever be admitted into the circles of local Literatis?
I will, when I set my sail and not lie at anchor indefinitely.

Let's Make Poverty History

We decided to have Soto Betawi Ayam, Sate Padang and Nasi Bebek Chabe Hijau for dinner at the food court in Plaza Indonesia. I remarked that Jakarta appeared to be much cleaner than I remembered during my past visits, when we were chaffeured from Suharto-Hatta Airport to Aryaduta Hotel. The condition of the road and the taxis too were much better than it used to be. Indeed times have changed. The popular Hotel Indonesia where I used to stay on my visits and several other buildings had made way for newer hotels and shopping malls, one of which is Plaza Indonesia.

I was hoping to immerse in the traditional batik, wood-carvings, paintings, kek lapis and other Indonesian knick-knacks when the Concierge at Aryaduta Hotel recommended Plaza Indonesia for our nightout. Far from a shopping spree, I had wanted to feel local in Jakarta. Hence the smalltalk with the taxi driver on traffic condition, jalan tikus as alternative route to beat the congestion and whether there are rumah makan Nasi Padang (eating places serving Nasi Padang) in the vicinity of Plaza Indonesia.

The friendly taxi driver obliged our 4/5th-Malay and 1/5th-Bahasa Indonesia to keep the smalltalk alive and meaningful. Halfway through the conversation he asked where did we come from. I had an uneasy feeling when we told him that kita dari Singapore. Such question and its reply frequently gave me a frisson down my spine. Why? You may asked.

Earlier on the way to the hotel Ustaz Mahmoud asked me whether I make regular visits to Sumatra, where my uncles, aunties and relatives on my mother's side live. I hardly remembered the last time I visited them, in Binjai, North Sumatra. But what I remembered clearly was that they imagined and believed that we were wealthy. Hence we were expected to be and behaved as generous philantrophists and obliged to meet their overt requests for financial help. Understandably, it may be an opportunity of a lifetime to meet close relatives from Singapore, and on top of that, who had also travelled and studied overseas - perhaps a proxy for "the haves" and wealthy, to them. How I wished they were correct and that was true.

As the taxi stopped for the red light at the traffic junction, street peddlers offered their wares - newspapers, magazines, masks and gloves, and bottled drinks - approached the stationery vehicles and hoped to make a thousand rupiah or two. I lamented over how fortunate our children are - not because they are fortunate to enjoy the little luxuries of life but the taken-for-granted attitude, instead. It is almost "by default" that they get what they desire, often without having to work for it.

When we arrived at Plaza Indonesia I was both disappointed and surprised. Disappointed because it was not what I had imagined, and surprised to see rows and floors of shops carrying branded products - Armani, Vuitton, Mont Blanc, Zara, Hugo Boss, among many other names. And the plaza was buzzing with shoppers both singles and families - young, trendy and affluent. Is there an emerging upper class or increasing number of the rich and famous? I asked myself. Not for us and certainly beyond our means, we passed by the shops without making a stop until we found Periplus, my favourite bookshop. We happily browsed the books from one cluster to the last.

As the taxi exited the Plaza and the adjoining Grand Hyatt Hotel, I saw street peddlers with their mobile warongs, and an old woman in rags, sitting with her legs stretched out on the pedestrian, catching glimpses of the passers-by between intervals of hopelessness. This sight gave me a second frisson down my spine - over how two worlds existed in a single city, just within metres away from each other.

I once shared in a lecture not so long ago of the danger of a socio-economic divide and widening income gap. Left unchecked, the poor will envy the rich, and consequently the rich will be fearful of the poor.

Not an easy problem to solve, I will be the first one to admit.
But still, a problem that requires solution.
Before vulnerability overtakes and compels the inhuman.

Allahu musta'an.

Aryaduta Hotel, Jakarta.

Countdown Ramadan

My handphone rang when I was just about to lunch at Amirah Grill today. Together with colleagues we hosted a farewell lunch for a friend who will be leaving Singapore for her next foreign service posting at Colombia. I immediately answered the call, when I saw Muslim's (my son) name flashing on the phone - somewhat unusual for him to call me at this hour particularly because he is in Tekong commanding a platoon, for his NS.

I was relieved when he asked me whether I can get him the prayer and iftar (breaking of fast) schedule to organise meals for his Muslim recruits come Ramadan. The few seconds interval between our first hellos were filled with suspense. Given the recent death of NSmen during training, and the injury on his left eye during his OCS training in Thailand, I wasn't sure what to make up when the phone rang. Alhamdulillah, it was just about Ramadan schedule and nothing serious or shocking.

Interestingly, that call triggered a series of thought processes including my performance last Ramadan. Firstly, it is now apparent that we are just about less than 2 months away from it - and even if we pretend it is still a long time to come, the days will come and go in a flash and very soon before we know it, Ramadan will come knocking at our door. Secondly, I started thinking what I need to do to prepare myself adequately for Ramadan to gain its highest reward. And since Ramadan is a madrasah (school) to strengthen faith and intellect I begin to work out a plan to complete the reading of the Qur'an as well as other reflective readings for both spiritual and intellectual nourishments. Almost in a typical Kiasu Singaporean fashion, I listed all the things and tasks I intend to do, in preparation for, and during Ramadan. InsyaAllah.

My performance last Ramadan was far from satisfactory, and I could not really understand why and how it happened. Alhamdulillah, although I managed to fast the entire month and performed the night prayers during the last 10 days at the mosque to seek and hope for Laylatul Qadr, I did not finish the reading of Quran or put simply, I did not khatam Qur'an. And it was the first time in years that I failed to do it. For some years in the past, I even managed to khatam Quran twice in Ramadan. Even if this was not a good and accurate measure of the quality of my Ramadan, I felt last Ramadan came and went in a blink of an eye, without a significant impact on me. This time round I intend to savour every second of it and experience its magical effect, I promised myself.

Ramadan is very special for the blessings it bring.
It welcomes those who seek it but wait for no one.

Countdown Ramadan has begun.
May Allah give us life to meet and live through this blessed month.

Say What You Mean ..

... and mean what you say, goes the expression. In an attempt to soften the impact of a direct feedback to a colleague over a piece of work, I resorted to innuendoes instead of saying exactly what I meant. I was reminded that this was not the first time but I replied that I had meant it in jest previously with no mischief or malice. I thought long and hard after the friendly exchange and admitted there was no excuse. It was simply a case of bad habits, and a delicate balancing act of using proxies to get the message across as opposed to saying it as I meant, outright.

I want to state categorically that I had no intention to demean my good colleague - one who I had relied upon for many of the successes at work. And if there was even a tinge of pain caused by it, I offer my apologies with a deep sense of remorse and regret.

One of the findings of the 360 degrees review on me was the remark by my officers (who report to me) that I don't usually given them feedback on their work or deliverables. Put simply, I did not offer my views whether the quality of work was up to mark or otherwise. However there were also many positive remarks about me, one worth mentioning was that I trusted them as professionals and therefore did not "breathe down their neck" for progress or updates to keep to deadlines.

On reflection I do admit that I am the "suffer in silence" type, often prefering to live with what's given although it may requires a major rework. Ironically, I do give feedback or comments on quality of work to a very few - and they are those that I consider them not as mere colleagues, but confidants. And I hasten to add because I value them immensely, I do not have the heart to express my disappointment or frustration outright. Hence the creative innuendoes, and it had backfired on me this morning.

Some people are better at writing rather than speaking. It is now evident that I expressed better in writing than saying it out aloud, particularly at close range. With writing, there is time to select the most appropriate words and sequence it to make an elegant arrangement. The spoken word is hazardous, and I am reminded of the Malay proverb, terlajak perahu boleh ditarik, terlajak kata buruk padahnya - it simply means that we cannot retract what we have said, quite apart from its undesirable consequences. What more with the incomprehensible "you only know what you said after it had been said" instinct, followed by the "why did I say that in the first place?" aftermath.

This explains the Hadith, "Whoever believes in Allah and His Messenger should say that which is useful or keep silent."

The art of reprimand or giving (negative) feedback calls for the use of the right words and saying it right, and not to mention with the right intentions. Conventional wisdom suggests that the most effective way to give feedback for self-improvement or development is by turning the negatives into positives.

But all positives (instead of the initial negatives) may misrepresent what was initially a quality deficit or shortfall into a praise or plaudit instead.

Alas, I am not any wiser.
Perhaps I should just stick to say what I mean, and mean what I say.