FUNNYACCENT

Dare To Choose

8:45 a.m

I usually take a subway to work, but this morning I switched to bus 39 for a change. It was an extended bus and I sat half way at the back. The ride from Back Bay Station was peaceful. 8 passengers on board.

Two ladies sat behind me chatted quietly.

A senior citizen gentleman slumped in the front seat already dozed off  before the bus driver made a turn from Berkeley Street into Clarendon Street, or maybe not because his right hand kept squeezing his brown cane.

A beautiful burgundy hair girl had a head phone and was reading a Metro. Her head bobbed up and down.

Two men sat in a different seat, one in a gray Patriot sweatshirt and faded denim and the other was in business suit were working on their Metro crossword puzzle.

And a man in leather jacket with dirty finger nails sat three seats away from me kept picking his nose when he thought nobody was looking at him. He wiped his hand on an empty seat next to him.

I cringed in my seat.

But I enjoyed my ride so far until the bus stopped at Copley stop (opposite Fairmont Hotel). About a dozen passengers boarded the bus. As soon as the red light turned green and the bus moved forward, three cell phones rang, one after another with different tones.

The bus picked up eight more passengers at Pruedential stop. Two girls were already on the cell phone when they boarded the bus.

A woman sat in front of me flipped her cell phone and made a call.

Then the nose picker's cell phone rang.

Seven people talked on the cell phones at the same time on the moving bus was an interesting scenario. Everybody was taking louder and louder and all of sudden the noise became unbearable and chaotic.

I wonder why it was different this time? Aahhh...the languages those cell phoners were different.

Two of them talked in English.

Two in Spanish

One in Urdu.

One in Arabic.

One was unidentified.

If I wanted to ride a bus again tomorrow morning, I'd better start digging out my CD player which I have no idea where I kept it,

or

ride a subway.

Pandanglah....Lihatlah.........

My sister KN was organizing our old photo albums the other day while we were chatting on the phone. She came across one of my photo albums during my first three years at a boarding school.  I asked to see one of my previous photo with my two best friends, Nani and Shariff.

"You have about 20 photos with the same two girls here. One is skinny with large glasses and the other one had a lot of freckles." I could hear her flipping the pages.

"The one we were on a stage singing" More flipping.

"Oh....here it is, is this the one you you were singing Senyap dan Sunyi (Extremely Quiet) ?"

"Yeah....that's the one. Does it still look okay?"

"Yes, it is."

It was a last minute decision. All we wanted to do was to watch and make fun of every girl who got on the stage. Three of us were excellent on the field. Nani was school long jumper, Shariff could beat anybody on the school ground in table tennis while licking her Cornetto Drum Stick ice cream and we played field hockey for school. But we never got on the stage. We sneered at everybody on the stage. Stage for kaki bangku. How cocky we were.

We had seen an invitation in Bulletin Board for all Form Three and Form Five students to participate in Malam Dalam Ingatan - A Night to Remember, two weeks before our final exam. We rolled our eyes and got on with our lives. But the eyes rolled back to us when Nani suggested we should take part in it.

"What? Are you out of your mind?" Shariff and I stopped dead in our track while Nani didn't slow her pace. When she sensed she was running by herself, she retraced her step back to us. Shariff and I had our hands on the hips and looked at her as she was crazy. It was not only an annoying idea, it was pure offensive. Us on the stage?

"Did you hear what you just said?" Nani had this silly smile on her face that made me wanted to put my hands on her shoulder and shook some senses into her.

"Do you have an idea what will those stagers say to us?" Shariff reminded her off all the offense remarks we had made.

"Since when we care what they say about us?" She got the point there.

We lost count the trips we made to Mr. A a Principal office every time we broke the school rules and regulations. We became immune to the warnings from Assistant Principal. The only thing that made a difference was we never did anything that involved other students, teachers or school properties, and we always kept our grades among the best. We thought those were the reasons they never actualized their words except once.Three of us were shuffled into the Principal's office one Monday afternoon. We were caned three times on the soles of our feet. That made six each. 18 canes for three girls who were not afraid to break the rules.

"This is going to be fun. We always say we should have fun in everything we do. And this is one of those." Nani seemed excited about the idea, it scared us. She looked like she was being hypnotized by some witches or something.

We walked to the far side of the field where the grass was thicker and greener and sat.

Nani was right. We looked at almost everything in a funny way. We laughed at the wrong time, we chuckled and giggled when others thought it was not funny.

"We'd probably not going to see each other again." Nani and I looked at Shariff. The idea didn't hit us until she said it. Or it did. We thought about it, but we were too terrified to even bring up the subject. We knew we were going to make it in our SRP (Lower Certificate Education), but we might be going on separate ways.

"Let's do it." I was hoping Shariff would agree with me. I wanted three of us to do something silly. Something outrageous in our 15 year old minds. Sure we had been doing a lot of silly things to ourselves. But this was an ultimate fun.

Nani looked at me and land turned to look at Shariff. We turned to look at Shariff. As usual Shariff took a freaking long time to say anything. Shariff got up, deliberately picked up the grass off her short one by one while Nani and I turned blue holding our breath.

"So what song are we going to sing?"

We squealed and jumped under a glorious purple evening sky.

Our plan was to have fun and not a perfection. We chose an old song, a song we knew would crack a smile, to stir fond memory from our teachers, especially to our most beloved teacher Cik Gu WZ. We chose the song with her in mind. We wanted to dedicate the song for her.

The next few days we breathed on our song. Nani was a natural born dancer while Shariff and I were retarded hands-feet-eyes coordination. It took us two full days to do a simple 1-2-3 cha cha steps.

A night before a performance we had a final rehearsal. Cik Gu Tahir an adviser for the event was pleased with students choices of songs and performance except one teacher, Cik Gu FS who decided to take a peek at the last minute. All the students were merenyam, tergedik-gedik -saucy- except the girls sat quietly at the back of the class, the audience, the girls who kept staring at their hands on their laps when she was in one of those mood of attacking us.

Our group was not fortunate enough to escape her scrutinized when she wiggled her wide  behind through school auditorium.

Right in the middle when we hit:

Perempuan yang tak pandai menjaga badan

Suaminya tentu lekas menjadi bosan

Mengerbang rambut macam hantu dalam hutan

Suami memandang hampir pengsan.......

She lifted her hand and waved at Cik Gu Tahir. Her fair complexion turned into a roasted eggplant.

"This is unacceptable. The song is inappropriate for the young girls."

She had a habit to puff up her cheeks when she was angry. She looked exactly like a gold fish blowing  bubbles in a fish tank.

We didn't have a chance to complete a third round of our 1-2-3 cha cha steps. All eyes traveled from us on the stage to an angry gold fish stood facing Cik Gu Tahir. The auditorium was completely quiet we could hear our own breathing.

We knew it we would never had a chance. Cik Gu Tahir was a wonderful teacher, but he never liked a confrontation especially with someone like Cik Gu Gold Fish's character.

We dragged our shattered desire to the back of the stage defeated. Nani sat on the floor near the stage stairs. Shariff and I stood and looked at our shoes while Cik Gu Tahir haltingly explained to us why we couldn't sing our chosen song. Cik Gu FS stood next to Cik Gu Tahir. She looked at us with her eyes that reminded me of a wolf's eyes, a character in a children story book. The wolf killed and ate a little girl's grandmother.

"But you like the song. You said it yourself." Nani's tears raining down her face faster than her hand could wipe them.

"I know, but we have to consider.........."

I didn't hear the rest of Cik Gu Tahir's words. I squeezed Shariff left hand who was sitting next to me.

"Cik Gu, can we still perform if we tone down the lyric?" I held my breath. I didn't look in Cik Gu FS's direction.

Shariff looked at me with question mark expression. Nani wiped her smeared face opened her mouth and closed again when I gave them I-tell-you-later looked.

We weren't going to let Cik Gu FS crushed our plan. The song was for our teacher and we planned to make it happen.

"Yes, I think it would be fine." This time Cik Gu Tahir didn't give Cik Gu FS to jump in.

We said good night to both of the teachers and left the auditorium. I told Nani and Shariff about my plan. Both of them thought it was a brilliant idea.

"I couldn't wait to see Cik Gu FS's face tomorrow night." Nani clapped her hands and circled around Shariff and I with her cha cha steps. Shariff and I stopped and joined Nani. We laughed all the way back to the hostel.

The next night, while waiting for our turn behind the heavy dark curtain I was so nervous I made a trip to a bathroom until I felt hollow in my bladder. Looking at the audience when they were facing me was a new experience. It was a nerve wrecking. It like my stomach was being punched over and over. It was a different feeling when I ran on the track. I didn't know how those debaters could do it. That night I looked at those girls that I smirked at them in a different light. I never felt so ashamed of myself.

"Cik Gu WZ sits in the front row, number seven from right," Shariff said to herself. We already knew it. Nani pointed her out. When a DJ called out our group, Tiga Langkah Tak Sama - Three Uneven Steps, and our song was Senyap Sunyi - Extremely Quiet, we stepped out with our hearts hammered our chests. "Take a deep breath, take a deep breath." Shariff reminded us as we walked to a center of the stage. We heard the thunderous applause from From Three A class and a short, short and long wolf whistles I was positive came from a junior girl in my dorm. She was the only girl in the school who could whistled like a boy.

When the applause quiet down, I told the audience our song was dedicated to our class teacher Cik Gu WZ who made us wanted to be in the class and completed her assignments in time. I was so nervous I was talking to an empty space above the audience's heads. But I was sure Cik Gu WZ understood us. I walked toward the DJ and gave a mike into her hand. She looked confused and surprised. "We don't need it tonight."

I moved back between Shariff and Nani who were ready to take my cue.

"Ready...........one , two , three."

Shariff brought up her hands with ten fingers formed like claws as she was holding a saxophone. She puffed her cheeks as she was blowing.

Nani was a left handed bass guitarist and I pretended holding a mike. Only three of us could hear I was singing the same song we sang last night. The audience saw me opened and closed my mouth with an invisible mike in my hand, Nani with her invisible bass guitar and Shariff was blowing an invisible saxaphone.

Pandanglah, lihatlah,

Rupaku yang cantik dan

rambutku yang ikal,

marilah tuan-tuan dan nyonya

Sama-samalah pandang

perempuan yang cantik bikin hati goyang

The teachers looked at each other trying to figure it out, but by these times, most of the students had figured it out. They began to enjoy our performing and I heard a few clapped coming from front row. With my heart jumped all over my chest, my eyes fell on Cik Gu Tahir. I knew it by the look on his face and his nodded head, he got it too.

Pandanglah, lihatlah

pinggang ku yang ramping (I made an hour-glass gesture)

dan dadaku yang bidang

Inilah selalu menjadikan

Orang hilanglah akal

rumahtangga tak kekal

Gilakan bayangkan

When I hit this lyric, Shariff and Nani 'put away' their instrument and we were already into the cha cha mood. We were enjoying ourselves and an incredible feeling being on the stage, we didn't care if we were thrown out of school the next morning.

Perempuan kalau tak pandai jaga badan

suaminya tentu lekas menjadi bosan

mengerbang rambut macam hantu dalam hutan

suami memandang hampir pengsan

Perempuan kalau sayangkan suaminya

Pandang sini, hai tirulah seperti saya

jaga bentuk,

jaga kulit dan jaga rupa

Senyum sayang kau berikan dia

Pandanglah...lihatlah....tiru macam saya........

We were delirious with thunderous respond from the audience, none of us heard anything the DJ said. There was no need to go into a great detail of what happened next. We became school celebrity for a while before everybody packed and went home for a long holiday. We went to Cik Gu WZ to say good bye. She told us she knew about the song and she was touched by our persistence, but looking back at our records, she wasn't surprised. As for Cik Gu FS, we didn't really look at her way since that night.

For Nani and Shariff, where ever you guys are, you are always on my mind.

20,000 Runners at Boston Marathon

I was fortunate to be able to squeeze in between the ladies who had been sitting behind the steel rails since this morning. They had their folded chairs, oranges, bananas and apples and bottles water enough  that would last for the whole summer. Each of them, I repeat each of them rooted under the hot sun not because running was was their passion, they sat there to cheer their daughters, sons, granddaughters, nieces, nephews or somebody in their family.

I arrived at the site at 11:10 a.m. All the marathoners were already transpotted to starting line this morning to Hopkinton this morning. It was still quiet. I walked up all the way to finished line.

Boylston Street (Copley Library). The finished line was a few meters under the bridge. The bridge is built for the race purpose.

I was so proud beyond words when I saw Malaysia's flag. I wonder if there was any Malaysian run in this year Boston Marathon?

 

It was a humble experience for me to watch Katherine Ndereba from Kenya (2:25:12) crossed the finish line. As a runner myself, I was trying to put myself in her shoes. What was her feeling when she reached the finish line with thunderous claps from the spectators. I was so overwhelm to watch her reaching the finish line leaving behind her competitors way behind, I forgot to click the zoom button. I was standing about six feet from the lady in the photo. She won in 200, 2001, 2003, 2004. Talk about achievement.

Volunteers waited at the far end to massage and assist with medical help to runners.

The Champion, but not john hancock.

Haile Neguisse from Ethiopia, 2:11:45

109th Boston Marathon

I'm off today (well, it's a Patriot Day here). I had a good run at Pebble Beach this morning and I'm all set to join the crowd at Copley in a few. The weather is gorgeous, sunny and breezy, a good day to run for 26 miles. I'll try to get some interesting photos, not at the race though because there is no way I could go near the finishing line even at 100 meters. What I'm going to snap is the  people, the crowd, that would be interesting.

Note for sunflora: I'll try to look around either at shoes store at Copley Mall or Newbury Street for Michelle shoes.

My kind of shoes

A Man From The Past

Instead of running on Pebble Beach this morning, I switched my running route. I hit a sidewalk at 6:45 a.m from Southampton Ave., turned to Mass. Ave. passed Boston Medical Center, turned to Columbus Ave. cut through W. Newton Street until I got to Prudential Center. I slowed down when I got here because running with a little pouch hanging on my waist ( I had a camera in a pouch) was no fun at all. That little pouch kept banging my lower waist all the way. If I had no intention of taking photos of Boston Marathon preparation, I wouldn't be caught running wuth anything extra except necessary gears.

The whole part of Boylston Street (from one end of front entrance of Public Library of Copley to the other end) is blocked by the benches and overhead bridge. The finish line is right in front of the library.

Besides a couple of trucks and a trailer delivering a dozen of handy houses to the site, the place was still quiet. I passed a few marathoners in an official Adidas blue/white sweatshirt with Boston Marathon 2005 on the back of the shirts. By tomorrow afternoon the city will be swarmed with the runners from all over the world.

I snapped a few photos, did some stretches and continued my running along Boylston Street, dashed across Boston Garden to Boston Common until I stopped at the bench at Park Street. I wanted to stop to take some pictures of swans at Boston Garden, but I didn't stop. I didn't want to break my rhythm.

"Hey there sexy legs." I heard a voice from a bench behind me.

"Hey there sexy legs with orange bandanna." I couldn't ignore the voice. I was the only one had an orange bandanna at that moment.

"Excuse me?" I straightened up my spine and turned around to look at the voice.

"Yeah.......I know it's you, young lady. You're not wearing running short today, but I know you still have the best legs in town." He put down a half empty Poland Spring bottle water next to him. He crossed his legs, leaned back and smiled, showing a gap of his upper front teeth. His face dotted with pearl of sweats. And.....he had Pearl Izumi running sneakers. Is he a runner?

My mind raced back and forth trying to put his face into a right slot of names and places. Nothing came up.

'I'm sorry sir, have we met before?"

"Aahhhhh. I knew it I ain't wrong, your hair is short now, but you're just as polite as before," he bent forward and rested his lower arms on his thighs, clasped his hands together. His dreadlocks slid down from behind his ears and swung gently.

"Do you remember many years ago, you bought a cup of coffee and a donut to a homeless man?"

"Oh............it's you," this time I was more surprised than before, "my goodness, you still remember me after all these years?"

"How could I forget? I was a mess. A homeless man, drunk, foul smell and shit begging for a spare change from you."

"Yes, I remember you. I was holding my breath, pulling the money from my sock."

I ended my running one Sunday morning at the same spot where we were talking right now. A homeless man approached me asking for a spare change. His strong body odor (for being away from H2O far too long) and alcohol fermented his being, my first reaction was to move away. But, my instinct told me not to. I stayed and talked to him.

As I pulled a five dollar bill from my sock, folded and damp, he said all he needed was a cup of coffee. I looked at him, I knew it would take him forever to cross the street to get a cup of coffee. I asked him how did he like his coffee, black with sugar or with cream or milk?

"Medium black, two sugars."

When I handed him a cup of coffee and donut, he was more than happy to accept it.

He thanked me between sipping his coffee and shoving the donut into his mouth.

"Thank you sexy legs, you don't mind I name you sexy legs?" He was more earnest than being an inappropriate.

"You're half drunk, I don't have a sexy legs, they call these an elephant legs."

"I'm drunk, but I ain't blind and I ain't dead yet."

I said goodbye and headed to the train station. That was seven years ago.

He was no longer the same man I met seven years ago. He has been sober and cleaned for the past four years. He works with a food bank and does a volunteer work as an outreach worker for the homeless. And he goes to school part time at a community college. All I could say was, "You are amazing." And he is amazing.

"Do you run too?" I blurted out the question since I saw his running shoes.

"Yes, yes. I started it when I was at half-way house. You inspired me."

"I did?" I looked for a spot to sit down. Something for my legs to hold on to. He removed the bottle water and patted an empty spot next to him.

"You never thought your simple act seven years ago would have an impact on an alcoholic and homeless man like me, didn't you?"

I shook my head.

He told me his determination to reunite with his long lost son, and of course his newfound interest - running. I showed him the right way to breath when he runs and not to distance his elbows from his sides when he hits the sidewalks. The sun was high when we said goodbye.

Left side of the library

Where Are They?

I went out to meet a couple of women who had become my writing buddies when I took a writing workshops at Cambridge Learning Center for Adults a few years back. We lost contact when they moved to Florida two years ago. Now they are back in town.

When a train entered Back Bay Station, I spotted both of them on a platform. I walked into their opened arms and I was flattened like a soggy grilled cheese between two over 6 foot women. Enn is a big bones woman. She stands 6' 2" in her stocking feet. When she hugged me, I thought I heard my ribs cracked. Dee is not as tall as Enn, but her slender body and a crew cut hair make her looks taller. Dell used to have luxuriance, blond-platinum shoulder length hair. The color of her hair matches her eyelashes. I remember during our meeting at various cafe in the city to talk about our writings, I couldn't help to stare at her eyelashes. I pointed it out one day that her eyelashes looked like being dusted with gold powder.

"Hah..hah...hah........my gawdddd Ana, you have such a beautiful way to say about a person." Her laughter flooded the whole cafe.

The first time she said to me in our writing class was, "I like your hair, I'm going to have my hair cut like yours only shorter."

Everybody in the class even our moody instructor was surprised when Dell turned up with a crew cut hair a week later, except N. N was a little  upset with me because she thought my short hair had a last impression on Dell. When she got her turn to comment about my piece N pounded my piece left and right. My ego bruised and dented.

I was a little hurt, but I reasoned with myself. "This is only a writing workshop. Wait until my writing get published one day..........."                                  

Two weeks later Enn apologized to me. What she did was inappropriate, but she was amazed at me at the same time because she thought I looked calm and I wasn't upset by her harsh comment. If only she knew.

We had our breakfast at Au Bon Pain Choices at Copley Plaza and talked about jobs, family and most of all we talked about our passion of writing. It was getting warmer outside, we decided to walk along Dartmouth Street all the way until Washington Street.

Enn asked me if I could help them to get the ingredients for papaya salad. They lunch at Bangkok Blue on Boylston Street last week, and both of them fell in love with papaya salad.

'Well, what do you know, we are on the right way, Super88Market is about fifteen minutes away." So, we turned on the left when we got to the end of Dedham Street. I haven't returned to this site of the city since they had built Super88Market in South Bay Mall near where I live.

I was surprised to see the sidewalks on both side of the streets are newer,wider and cleaner. The old and ruined one storey stores with strong stench of urine and beer are all gone. A brand new double and triple stories buildings that housing the restaurants, cafes, galleries, contemporary furniture stores, Asian antique stores, artist lofts and apartments. I wonder what happened to the junkies and homeless people who used to hang out at some of the spots that are no longer exist. I wonder where did they get rid of these unfortunate people when they decided to beautify the place and bring in young and sober faces?

I'm glad the basketball courts and children playground are still stand. They fixed some of the benches and planted new trees outside the fence. I took a couple of pictures of art work on the wall at the basketball court.

The supermarket was busy as usual. Enn and Dee got all the ingredients for their papaya salad. And I found something I've been looking for all these years- DAUN PANDAN. The pandan leaves were vacuumed and frozen. I was happy beyond words. From now on, all my dishes that require daun pandan will definitely have daun pandan. And as usual daun pandan is imported from Thailand. When will I see daun pandan from Malaysia in Super88Market?

KN, The Seri Kaya Maker

My first memory of sweet creamy seri kaya was when I was six years old. It was a year my father's tour of duty to Simanggang, Sarawak. Once again, my parents dragged all of us across the country to grandmother's house in Penang. It was the end of the year, a long school holiday. Beginning of the next year I would start a standard one (gred one). I was fortunate because the school was just opposite grandmother's house across the street.

Two days later my father left grandmother's house. He had to catch an early train from Butterworth, so I was still in bed when he said goodbye to my mother. I don't remember what actually had happenned, but my mother told me I refused to eat breakfast and sat on the swing all morning until noon under grandmother big house waiting for my father to return home.

Grandmother said I was spoiled and forbade my sister KN to bring down my favorite roti seri kaya (white bread sandwiched with sweet concoction made of eggs, coconut milk and brown sugar and not to forget daun pandan). Mak bought two loaves of bread every other morning from mamak roti.

Every morning, mamak roti (an Indian man whom we called mamak) rode his big bicycle would stopped in front of grandmother's house. The whole year I was at grandmother's house I never saw mamak wore anything else other than white clean sarong and white shirt. He always smelled minyak attar (perfumed body oil).

He had this specially built a 2'x2'x3' glass box with wood panel attaced at the back of his bicycle. He kept all his freshbaked bread loaves in this box along with seri kaya in cans. The front side of the box has a little door. He pulled out a little piece of cutting board from under the glass box. With his sharp knife he sliced the bread. For us the kids, watching mamak sliced the bread was one of highlights of the day before the sun set, something we did not want to miss.

My sister came downstairs anyway and asked me to go to a grocery store with her. When we were about a stone throw away from grandmother's house, KN handed me a small newspaper wrapped packet.

"What is it KN?"

"Open it."

I unwrapped the newspaper and there was my sandwich lathered with egg seri kaya. The caramelized color of seri kaya glistened under an afternoon sun. The afternoon breeze brought out a heavenly scent of pandan leaves.With my index finger I swiped the creamy seri kaya along the edge of sandwich and licked it.

I took small bite and chewed the sandwich dreamily. As my sandwich was getting smaller, the tastier the seri kaya had become. By the time we hit Bakar's front store KN's sandwich was making its way into my system. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and licked my sticky fingers one by one.

"The serikaya was good, KN."

"Yes, I know. I made it."

"Your serikaya is hundred times better than mamak roti's seri kaya."

KN is a genius cook. She learned early to master most of Malay dishes. Nobody could keep their secret recipes from KN. When she tastes a new dish for the first time, she could generalize what's in it. The second time she eats it, she could break down every single spices and ingredients in the dish. And she rarely makes a mistakes.

Bubur Cha Cha on a Wonderful Day

Just the two of us, you and I.

Dried seaweed I found on the beach.

Pebble Beach

What a wonderful and blessed day..........Sunny and breezy, a perfect day for a walk or anything else that makes us smile and contend under the sun. I finished all the work for the day and I went home 4 hours earlier. The four hours I gained this afternoon was from the 4 extra hours I put last week. I decided to take this opportunity to be out in the sun. I've been waiting for this weather for a long time. Last weekend I took all my winter jackets to the cleaners, put away most of my winter clothes and took out my spring/summer clothes from a closet.

A beautiful weather brought out all kinds of people to the beach and on a boardwalk. 61 degree was a little chilly for some people to sunbathe but it didn't stop for a few. I saw about a dozen of so sunbathers along the beach. Mothers were pushing the strollers with babies in them. Mothers were pushing sempty strolelrs as the toddlers were trying their mightiest to push the strollers themselves, runners, joggers and walkers passed each others. Everybody was happy and cheerful for this long awaited wonderful day.

It was almost three o'clock when I got home from Castle Island. I was hungry but I wanted something sweet, something reminds me of home. I knew what I wanted to eat. I had all the ingredients in a refrigerator. Coconut milk, tapioca pearl, sweet potato, pandan extract and darn.........

A day before she made Bubur Cha Cha,my mother would get a cup of flour, added some water and kneaded it into a soft dough. She divided the dough into four portion and dropped a yellow, red and green food coloring into each portion. The fourth portion was left with its original color. She used a rolled pin to flatten each dough and cut it into a thin stripe and cut the colorful stripes into 1.5 cm pieces. She then dried them under the sun. These beautiful and colorful little pieces dried dough was part of bubur cha cha.

Once, when I was about seven or eight years old while standing next to my mother as she was stirring bubur cha cha on the a stove, I asked my mother why was it called bubur cha cha? With a straight face my mother said, "You have to dance cha cha cha, while you're making it."

"Really? How come I don't see you dance cha cha cha?"

With a ladle in her right hand my mother moved a few inches from a stove, she made a couple of moves to her right and left and turned around.

"Mak......." I was cracking up, "that is joget not a cha cha cha..."

"It is cha cha cha to me."

I wanted to add dried cempedak my mother made for me before she died, but I still want to hold to it. It sounds silly, but I'm not ready to let it go. I added a durian instead. The last time I was at Super88Market I bought a two durians . My kitchen was perfumed with durian when bubur was cooked.

When I was ready to eat, a bowl of bubur cha cha sat in front of me, I had a lump in my throat, my eyelids felt warm. I couldn't help it. My mother had so much joy and sense of humor in her life, I could feel her presence. As my lips touched bubur cha cha, I felt my mother's love embraced me in her arms. Al-Fatihah Mak.

Along the Sidewalk

I've been walking down Washington Street in downtown hundreds of times on my way either to Loew Theatre or China Town but I never paid any attention to an object that is now covered with blue plastic on Opera House. Imagine that? I look but I didn't see? I wonder what else have I been missing?

Other than that, I truly enjoyed my late lunch, a chicken caesar salad roll-up and a cup of chai latte . Under a brilliant sun I sipped a hot chai latte, and watched in awe at the kids skateboarding. They spinned, twisted and double and triple jumped fearlessly. The slipped and fell, but they bounced back in a split second. How wonderful, when we were young we had a different concept of fear.