FUNNYACCENT

What's For Dinner?

Tonight I had fish head curry and jasmine rice (and a handful of wild rice) for dinner. I seldom use an eggplant in my fish curry because after a second or third heating up eggplant will turn mushy. Besides okra is one of my favorite veggies.

They Call Plantain I Call Banana

One of many interesting lessons about food I learned when I moved here was, plantain wasn't banana. What they call plantain here is like pisang tanduk (horn banana) back in Malaysia. Usually plantain isn't eaten raw like we eat banana. Raw plantain has a starchy taste and thicker skin.

The first time I bought a plantain was eleven years ago during the fasting month when I was craving for fried banana. The next day I told a friend at work about it.

"Oh......you meant plantain?"

"Plant what"? I admitted I didn't see the "plantain" sign. Then I remembered, at the supermarket they didn't place bananas and plantains together. Plantain is bigger and longer than banana, about 10" to 15" in length.

Since then I've always find myself eating plantains in many different ways. When I was working at the homeless shelter for women of domestic violence I learned that people from Central America and Caribbeans have many ways to prepare plantain as we Malay make use of bananas.

One of the dishes a young Dominican mother taught me was mashed boiled green skin plantain eaten with fried egg. Get a couple of greenish/yellowish (not too firm and not too soft) plantains, peel the skin, and boil them until they're soft. Mashed the plantains with a fork, sprinkle a dash of salt, and top with fried egg. This is for a breakfast.

A second dishes that has become my favorite is tostone, a beautiful Guatemalan woman showed me how to prepare it. Get a green skin plantains (must be firm), peel the skin, cut about a half inches lenghtwise and fry in medium heat about five minutes both sides. Remove from the hot oil and place on two or three layers of paper towel. Cover the top fried plantain with another paper towel and flatten the plantain with your palm. When you finish the process, heat the oil one more time and deep fried again until it is crispy. I love this tostone for my tea time.

Once B and I had lunch at a Caribbeans restaurant in Queen. We had this interesting dishes. The rice was served with grilled salmon with spicy gravy and a whole fried plantain. The plantain was soft and golden.

Earlier today I bought five plantains for a dollar and have one for deep fried. I didn't use  glutinous rice flour for the batter as we do back home. Too much work. Besides B doesn't care much for fried plantains.

Besides plantains, I eat bananas from time to time too. Sometimes I make lempiang pisang (banana pancake), smoothies or baked banana. I wrap the banana with an aluminum foil and bake it for about 30 minutes. Peel the skin and sprinkle it with cinnamon sugar...........wallah.......One more Malay dishes I haven't tried it yet is lepat pisang because I couldn't find banana leaves.

My mother fed me with roasted banana when I was a baby. When I graduated from soft food, my mother mashed roasted banana and newly cooked rice together. "You loved it very much and you never constipated", beamed my mother as I had discovered a cure of some serious diseases. There was no such thing as baby food in a can or a jar during those time.

On my mother's back yard, she had always made sure we had at least five or six bananas trees. She used banana leaves to wrap kuih lopis, otak-otak, all kinds of lepat (pumpkin, sweet potato, banana).

During my high school years, from time to time my mother sent me a package of dried bananas. The golden banana was abundance from her back yard. She peeled off the skin, dried the bananas under the sun. After a week, the bananas shrunk to half of their original size, the color turned into dark brown like maple syrup. It was sweet and a little chewy, but when you were 15 years old away from home, broke and hungry all the time, everything tasted good.

I remember a week after the May 13 riot, my younger brother had high fever. His body was so hot, we could feel the heat just sitting close to him. My father was away.  My mother was the only adult in the house. She tried not show her fear, but we felt it through her eyes.

We didn't have a refrigerator then. If it was earlier one of us could had been out to a nearest store to get an ice block or my mother could take my brother to the hospital.

My brother started to have a light fever during the day but  his condition was getting worse by the evening. His body temperature was so high we could feel the heat just sitting near him.

A curfew began at 6:00 o'clock. The street was quiet. Everybody was in the house. Every house used a minimal light.

My mother went to her room and came out with a 27 inches machete she kept hidden in her bedroom and headed to a back door. We were all panicked.

"Where are you going Mak?" chorused all of us except my sick brother.

She put her finger to her lips, opened the back door quietly. She closed the door behind her. Before she disappeared in the dark, my mother told us to go to a living room where my sick brother was lying on a bed. We looked at each other and wondered what was our mother up to this time?

15 minutes which seemed 15 long freaking hours. When my mother came in back into the kitchen she had half dozen whole banana leaves in her hand. She cleaned one of the leaves with a towel. My sister KN picked up the cue and she did exactly as my mother was doing without being told. All these times the three of us just stood close together and watched without a word. We were scared of the whole situation. We were scared that we thought our brother might be dying without getting help.

My mother carefully removed the middle stem. When the stem was removed she had two pieces of leaves. She took the leaves to the living room and set beside the bed. She removed my brother's jammie until he was strip naked. With gentle and graceful move, my mother lifted my brother in her arms and told my sister to place both pieces of banana leaves vertically where my brother was lying. She put my brother on top of banana leaves, and covered my brother's body with a light blanket.

We saw in amazement the leaves slowly transformed into a darker shade and limpy as it was being steamed. When the leaves turned soft, my mother replaced it with a new batch. Two hours later by the fourth batch my brother's body wasn't as hot as before. He made a sound and opened his eyes. My mother broke into tears when my brother opened his mouth and said, "Mak, I'm thirsty." She bent down and kissed my brother's forehead. Her tears wet my brother's face. All of us cried even  Abang, my older who always beat us in our wrestling game. At the same time I knew I had been right all along. My mother was the best mother in the world. "Wait until the school is open, I'm going to tell the kids in my class about it." Their mothers didn't come close to a genius compared to my mother, I concluded.

My mother went out again to get a new batch of fresh banana leaves. I tried to stay awake, but my eyes couldn't open. None of us wanted to sleep in our rooms. My mother let us to drag out our single kekabu (kabo-kabo) mattress and we camped out in a living room near my brother's bed.

When I woke up the next morning, I went to my brother's bed. He was in his fresh Jammie and breathing normal. I put my hand on his forehead. The heat was gone. A stack of cooked banana leaves piled up near the bed. I went to the kitchen. My mother was at the stove making breakfast. My mother turned around and smiled at me. She was making a french toast , my brother's favorite breakfast. While brushing my teeth, I remembered about the banana leaves. I finished quickly and walked to the kitchen door. Two of nine banana trees we had were stark naked without any leaves.

I found some interesting fact about banana:

• Banana plant is not a tree. It is the world's largerst herb.
• For medicinal use, banana is good for anaemia, blood pressure, constipation, hangover, depression, constipation, PMS, heartburn, ulcers, strokes and bunch more benefit. Check out this site.

A Little Slice of Life at The House

It sounds corny, but I missed The Residents and their kids. I missed little Al who has just discovered how wonderful it is to walk on his two chubby feet without getting help from grown-ups. Every morning as soon as they reach to the main floor, he wiggles his way out of his mother's arm and walks toward me. He holds up his arms for me to pick him up. He put his arms around my neck and kiss my nose. Sometimes his lips land on my glasses.

He likes me to cradle him in my lap when he has his bottle. When Al and his mother entered the program 8 months ago, he was underweight and pale. He wore a soiled jammies that was too big for him. When his teenage mother was pregnant with him, she was using drug and living on the street.

Now he is a healthy and happy full of energy toddler, bouncing around The House with his bottle swinging in his hand. We take turn to put him on the van that will take him to a day care. His mother has to leave 30 minutes early to go to a job training workshop. Al mother has shown a lot of improvement since she got here.

All the Guests have a busy schedule. Attend an AA meeting, attend MOM (for mothers) project workshop, go to the therapies, go to the methadone clinic, attend an anger management workshop, pre-natal class (for pregnant guest) and different workshops and meetings that keep them busy.

Not everybody has a happy ending here. Their minds and bodies have been abused to  drug and alcohol far too long, it takes a tremendous effort and work to help them come out of it.

I've learned to move on with my life and not to feel defeated when the Guests choose to return to their old lives.

The Trip

Heading toward Manhattan Bridge, this say no to drugs ad caught my eyes.

On Manhattan Bridge

An artwork on the side of the building toward Manhattan Bridge

A Journey Into an Unplanned Trip

A few of many MiddleEast stores on Atlantic Avenue, Brooklyn.

Our original plan was to spend the weekend plus our much awaited three days off at in-law house in Brooklyn. I wanted to get my new supply of scented body oil and a few boxes of sandalwood and bergamot incenses at Hussein Store on Atlantic Avenue. I've been their regular customer for the past seven years. Besides I'd just found out a few months ago an awesome selection of quilt fabric store on

She was away visiting her new great-great-grandniece in Syracuse. The big house was quiet when we entered the drive way. The family who rent the apartment on a third floor was away too. The afternoon light gave luminous color to a hardwood floor when I drew the heavy curtains. The house was never this quiet. There was always some nieces, nephews, grandsons, granddaughters, or a distant twice or triple removed cousins taking a temporary shelter at the big house. Sometimes a temporary arrangement turns into months. I wonder where they were.

"They only time they remember to find a way to their grandmother's house is when they are broke." B said as he opened the door to his old bedroom on a second floor. He dumped our suitcase on the bed and headed down to a basement.

Most of his studio equipments and keyboards had been transferred to our crib in Boston. But he still has his previous Roland digital 18 track recorder in his old studio in the basement. I stay out of his studio if I could help it. I'm a klutz. I always walk or knock into something. I literally have to put both of my hands behind my back when ever I am in his studio. Those buttons, blinking lights, switches and hundreds of gadgets are huge temptation.

After we had our late lunch of grilled chicken and hommus avocado on pita bread, I decided to take a nap. A trip to The City Quilter on West 124th Street in Manhattan has to wait until tomorrow when the sun deliciously moved towards the patches of dark cloud. I don't like to go out in a windy and cloudy day.

It was almost eight o'clock when I woke up. B sprawled on the couch watching his favorite program, Ask This Old House.

"Bu, Jess just called me while you were napping." His eyes didn't move from the screen.

"He did? What did he say?"

"He and Nan invite us to their new house."

"But they are in Pennsylvania, Bu. Are we going to Pennsylvania? Tell me we're going to Pennsylvania." I was excited, I jumped onto B's lap.

Later that night, before we went to bed, B logged on the map quest and printed a direction to Tannersville, Pennsylvania. My eyes almost popped out when I saw Tannersville is in Pocono Mountain. I've always wanted to go to Pocono. Oh.........Sweet.

A Comb In A Bird Nest

I've been thinking how young exactly was I when I started to develop my self-confidence? Was it when I was three years old when my mother had my younger brother ? Or a year later when my mother had my second younger brother? I remember my mother told me as soon as my brother T, three years my junior started to make baby noise I spent much of his waking hours teaching him to call me Kak Kecik* (little sis). Much to my mother's dismay I harassed him in any possible way. I sat next to my mother when she breastfed T, I was there sitting on a little stool in a bathroom next to my mother when she gave T a bath, I did all I possibly could to be near my little brother. My mission was to teach him to call me Kak Kecik.

When my mother had M a year later, I was delighted. Now, my mother had to divide her time between three of us. By this time I pretty much did a lot things by myself except combing and braiding my long hair which I needed my mother's full attention. My father tried to participate in this department a few times, but he had no idea how to untangle my long wavy hair especially when I woke up in the morning. One morning, instead of making my mother's life easier by fixing my hair, my father made our house more chaotic by accidently stuck the comb in my tangled hair.

When my father left for work at 7 a.m , my hair looked more like a bird's nest with a comb sticking out of my head. At the same time both of my brothers chose to wake up. My mother had to take care of my brothers before she sat me and slowly untangled my hair. That was the last time my father tried to fix my hair.

Now, M was around, I had more time to spend with T. My mother had to scoot me out of the house when I started to camp out next to T's crib. T laughed and clapped his hands when he saw me, but he hadn't say the words I was teaching him. T must be tired of me badgering him, one day when he was almost two, he blurted kakcik in my face. I was stunned to hear the word for the first time, I didn't mind he skipped the 'ke'. From then on, I officially became a kakcik to my family. I announced to my parents I was kakcik and not to call my name anymore.

I got carried away with my new title. I told my four friends on our block about my new title. I didn't get any objection from three of them, but Ayeh had a little problem. He was a year older than me, and he didn't like the idea of him calling me kakcik.

"I am older than you, you don't call me abang (brother)."

"You don't have little brothers like I do."

"Why kakcik?"

"My father says baby cannot say long words. They forget."

"No, they don't forget. They don't know."

"Yes, they do."

"No, they don't."

"I call you abang."

"I call you kakcik."

We compromised. But abang Ayeh only lasted a day. The next day when everybody called him abang he forgot to respond to his new name. He was back to Ayeh.

I know I started to build my confiedence way before I had my little brothers. My mother said I never ran and hid behind her when we ran into people I wasn't familiar with. I usually went forward to make new friends to the kids around my age when we had a visit from my parents friends or relatives. When I looked back at my childhood, I know the way my parents brought me up was totally opposite from the way they were raised, especially my mother. She broke the cycle.

Kak short form from Kakak (sister)

Kecik is a northern part of Malaysia's slang for kecil (little)

A Walk Across the Squirrels Playground

The temp is still in low 30's but the sun is blazing in the sky. It's mid March, spring is around the corner according to a calender, but living in New England has taught me not to put away my winter clothes, not justyet.

It's a beautiful day to be inside the building, I get myself a small cup of pumpkin spice coffee and set myself to walk across Boston Common to Copley Train Station. I have my heavy winter jacket on, gloves, hat and scarf, but I feel a hint of cool breeze on my face.

The squirrels are having a wonderful time. They move fast on the ground. One of them crosses my path and climbs up a bare oak tree. I stop to look where it is heading. I spot a hole in a trunk about ten feet above the ground. A squirrel stops outside the hole, turns around and looks down at me. It wags its tail. I wonder is it visiting, or the hole is its home? As I press the shutter, my little furry friend scoots into the hole. All I get is a hole in a trunk. Sleaky little squirrel!!!

Missing You............

It's drizzling outside. I turned off all the lights. Ligthed some sandalwood incences, pulled up the chair to the window. I put one of P.Ramlee cds and played this song over and over.

Ibu

Ibu, ibu
Engkaulah ratu hatiku
Bila ku berduka
Engkau hiburkan selalu

Ibu, ibu
Engkaulah ratu hatiku
Tempat menyatakan kasih
Wahai ibu

Betapa tidak hanya engkaulah
Yang menyinari hidupku
Sepanjang masa engkau berkorban
Tidak putusnya bagai air lalu

Ibu, ibu
Engkaulah ratu hatiku
Tempatku menyerahkan kasih
Wahai ibu

Actor/Director/Musician/Composer P.Ramlee

When Are You Coming, Spring?

The city is wrapped under seven inches of snow again, the sixth time the snorwstorm in New England, or maybe seventh......this winter. The old layers of snow is covered over and over again by the newest fallen snow. I want to use a phrase blanket of snow, but I think it sounds unrealistic because blanket is to keep you warm. Blanket of snow will keep me in a bathroom for sure.

The last five snowstorms the wind was practically resting, but not this time. The wind howling all night along with the sound of the engines of snow plower trucks moving up and down the streets.

This morning on my way to subway station, I was impressed to see the snow on the sidewalks and streets were not only plowed away, but they have been removed from both sides of the streets. The snow is not entirely gone, but I don't see a line of long range of snow mountains like we had before every time we were hit by the snowstorm. So, thank you for removing the snow along the streets.

Kenangan Mengusik Jiwa Corner

All day long I have this song play in my head over and over again.

Bila ku ingat

Bila ku kenang.......

Masa dulu kita berdua......

Merayu berbisik hidup bersama......

Hidup bersama...........

Note to Frankensteina. :))

You were not even born yet when this song was recorded.

Carrying an Invisible Baggage

Today I attend a second of four volumes, a series of Addiction, Treatment & Recovery, Prevention Strategies Skill Building Workshop. This is the most enjoyable workshop I've attended since I join this organization. Every time I complete the workshops, I feel a new door is open, a new possibility is revealed on how to approach and work with the clients.

Every single client walks through the door carries a different shape, size and color of baggage. Some of them have been carrying the baggage since they were in their mother's wombs. Some of them got the baggage dump on them when they were infants, some of them had a wonderful childhood years but they started to collect little packages when their parents take a detour. The parents split, fight for custody, and these kids accumulate the little packages and by the times they had their first wet dreams they already had an invisible baggage on their backs.

It is not easy for a person like me who have no personal experience with drug or alcohol to understand an alcoholic mind and see through drug abuser eyes. Everything I've been learning at school is nothing compare to what I've gain first hand when the first time I work with them. Nothing prepared me, a degree is a piece of paper that has help to me move forward, but when I dip my feet in the water , to test the water and cautiously wade toward a crushing wave.

Throw away all the assumption, strip naked all the judgmental mind, scoop up and shower onto myself a passion and patience, little by little I learn to understand them. Slowly but surely they open up themselves to me and let me a glimpse of their dark sides, the sides that have been dragging them down to the endless pits. I have a lot more to learn, every time I work with a new client, I learn a raw lesson from from her/him. We learn from each other.