219: 26.12 (Almost) The end

I have missed you, writing.

It has been a hectic few months - I have momentarily closed a chapter on paediatrics and moved back into adult medicine (hopefully, not for too long)! Paediatrics was challenging to say the least. Brutal and unforgiving, yet at the same time, exciting and thoroughly rewarding. I don’t think I have grown so quickly as a young doctor as I have on my paediatrics placement - and I have my colleagues to thank you for that.

I do miss working with young children. Cardiology has made me realised that as much as I would like to fight it, I am through and through, a very enthusiastic and budding young paediatric-trainee to be. At the end of this week, we will be told whether we have been successful in getting to the next stage of applications - I have been nervously fidgeting every time my phone beeps in my pocket. I wish it was already the end of February when the results are out and my future is less blurry. But alas, I will have uncertainty and patience as my loyal companions for now.

Since my last entries, many things have happened. I have finally gotten my driving license (yay!) - the drama behind that has to be memoralised in writing at some point. A has almost completed his software engineering bootcamp at Flatiron, Alhamdulillah. My sister has left for homeland for good, so it has only been A and I in the flat. My younger siblings emerged from their respective examinations triumphant gifting my dear parents the ability to give a big sigh of relief. The youngest of our clan will start high school next week - breaking my heart slowly as the realisation of her pending teenagehood sinks in.

I also turned 27 last month, Alhamdulillah. The quick approach towards my thirties begs the question, “What have I done with my life so far?” Others my age have propagated young-uns and climbed many rungs up the corporate ladder. They have bought cars and houses. Some have built businesses and some have built empires digitally through a loyal legion of social media followers. Then there is me, barely 1.5 years into a career - clumsily trying to navigate realms of adulthood. But despite my slow start, I am thankful - for a home I love, for a family whom I adore, for the opportunity to build a career in London and for the freedom of choice as well as for the luxury of feeling safe. I have to somewhat accept that I will always be impatient - to get ahead quickly and to catch up. But for now, I just want to stop and breathe.

What is meant for me will never miss me. I am ready for you 2019!

218: 18.10 Of Conviction: Why God? Why Islam?

I am currently enjoying one of the few annual leave days I have been granted, Alhamdulillah. It seems strange to wake up at 10 or 11 in the morning - it is a luxury to slowly wake up according to one's body clock rather than being suddenly jolted from slumber by an arrogant alarm. With a cup of hot tea, I spent the morning listening to Nouman Ali Khan going through the ayats of Surah Baqarah. Today he went through the importance of bayyinah (evidence) and huda (guidance), and why learning the religion in that order is important.

In many Muslim families, the what and how to be a Muslim is very much emphasised. How we pray, how we make wudhu' and how we fast. At the same time, we are constantly reminded to what is haram and halal. Pork and alchol... haram. HMC certified meats... halal! But through the barrage of rules and practices, we often are not taught to ponder "Why Islam?"

Allah swt in the Quran mentioned bayyinah first with reason - because once the evidence of why Islam is truth is established in one's heart, only then does the hows and the whats make sense. Being born into the religion, like many others, I have taken my religion to be just a set of regulations for most of my teenage years. Inspired by the lecture today, I sat down with a pen and paper and wrote down the reasons of "Why Islam?"

Firstly, I had to break up the question up into two parts.

Part one: Is there a God?

Signs in Nature

There is an abundance of signs around us for those who stop and ponder. From the tiniest creations of atoms to the largest of mountains and the vastness of solar systems, when I stop and think about the diversity of things around me, I become overwhelmed. For instance, despite the magnificent advances in medicine, we have yet to fully understand how human bodies work. What we know might just be the tip of a very vast iceberg with many thousands of diseases yet to be discovered, let alone cure. If we are far from understanding the foundations of our own selves, how are we able to truly understand the mechanics of how the entire universe operates?

People might argue that all of this happened by chance. From the big bang to today, complex and diverse beings have just learned to evolve naturally from the simplest forms of life such as bacteria. Although this view is held in many scientific circles, I find it very hard to believe that all of this happened by chance. If there wasn't a higher power Who not only created, but also controlled the nature of things, I would argue that the world will be laden with chaos. It was as if a factory of different machines were suddenly switched on with no central controller. Or like a computer with millions of lines of code without a programmer to instruct on how the code should be used.

With even simple things like oxygen - a necessity for life - the planet would need enough sunlight (but not too much), the right temperature for plants to grow, the right nutrients in the soil which will require animals, enough rain throughout the year, (which will require enough water in the sea), diverse types of seeds for different weather and enough wind to propagate the seeds (which requires just enough gravitational pull from the moon and sun). All these factors need to be just right to allow oxygen to be produced to sustain life. And I find it hard to believe that all these factors just came together by pure chance. It must have been orchestrated, every puzzle piece rightly put in its place by a Higher Power.

After establishing belief in God, the second question to ask is why did I choose this religion? After mulling it over, I came up with 5 reasons why.

Part two: Why Islam?

The Quran

As Muslims, we believe that the Quran is the word of God. Word from word, untarnished by time. Unlike other Books in the Abrahamic faith, there is no one in between you and the word of God in the Quran. It is not made of scholar's interpretations of scripture, the Quran is divine scripture. There is no early or late testaments, the message in the Quran rings true through time and place. It was sent down through a Messenger (saw) who didn't know how to read or write. As he was illiterate, it would have been impossible for him to structure passages as beautifully symmetrical and lyrical as what is in the Quran. Plus, the Quran was not revealed in chronological order! Although others might still want more evidence to its Truth, for me, these facts is sufficient for me to conclude that the Quran must be Divine.

On a personal level, reading and reflecting on the Quran, it feels like Allah swt is talking directly at me, with words He specifically chose to reach my heart. Each word hold multitudes of layers to its meaning, as relevant today as it was many centuries ago. And as much as its a gift of guidance filled with advice on how to behave and think through the ups and downs of life, the Quran also acts as an emergency landline - one that I can turn to in times of difficulty and uncertainty.

The Character of Rasulullah (pbuh)

Secondly, I am Muslim because I want to emulate Prophet Muhammad (pbuh). Learning more of his life (pbuh), I begin to understand more and more why Allah swt chose him for this mission. Growing up, he (pbuh) was a truthful, kind and spiritual man. A person that people could constantly rely on, he sought solace in being in solidarity. When thrusted with the responsibility of delivering the Message, at first, he was riddled with fear - fear that he was not good enough. He sought refuge in his wife who consoled him that God had chosen him for a reason. From then on, his (pbuh) story is filled with triumph, but also much hardship, loss and sacrifice. He faced calamity with kindness and humility - never failing to reflect inwards.

When kids were throwing stones at him (pbuh) until blood was trickling down to his shoes, he sought forgiveness from Allah swt. Not for the kids who threw stones, but forgiveness for himself - for not being a good enough Messenger, one that people respected enough. How humble must one be to blame oneself and not others even if the fault is not one's own?

His (pbuh) beautiful character shined through his history - a source for every man, woman and child to emulate. From how he worshipped Allah swt, to how he was as a leader, a husband and a father, there are scores of important lessons from his life. And his legacy, which has completely changed the course of the world through the spread of Islam, is only kept alive through us.

The Justice of the Hereafter

My number three reason why I am Muslim is my belief that there must be true justice. In Islam, we believe that everyone is fairly trialled by God on Judgement Day when every deed, good or bad, will be taken into account. In contrast to the world we live in now, where corruption is rife, police brutality is common and those with money and power escape punishment with not more than a pat on the hand, I find it difficult to digest that those who do and spread evil can get away with what they have done. Those who work in corporations who capitalise by lawfully misguiding vulnerable groups, or those who sexually abuse young people and children, or those who kill people for the colour of their skin or those who sit idle in parliament lobbying for less strict gun laws despite the recurring events of mass school shootings.

There must ultimately be justice - not in the hands of a corrupt judge who is open to bias, greed and power. But in the hands of the Most Just. He who knows your true intentions of your actions. He who not only sees the evil you can propagate, but also sees the good deeds you spread. He who, on Judgement Day, will reward those who spread love and charity in silence. No billboards, no pictures on social media, no newspaper articles on how "generous" he or she was. No one, but Allah swt knew your work. And on the flip side, to those whose hands were involved in corruption and lies, He has plans for you as well.

In the end, life is not fair and it is never going to be. But thankfully, God is.

Dependence on God

During an afternoon run, I was listening to a podcast where a scholar mentioned that one's faith is measured by one's reliance on God. You are only as strong as your dependence on God, and as weak as your dependence on yourself. When I heard this, it truly hit home for me for I have always been a planner and relied on myself. There is a Plan A, B, C, etc for everything in life - and it is through orchestrating these plans that I have somewhat gained apparent control over my life. But however well I plan for myself, I have always been blindsided by how my plans will never fully manifest itself and I am left anxiously derailed.

Everything from scholarships to college, from gap years to universities, extra degrees, marriage, from work to homes, nothing has ever worked out as planned. At every turning point and crossroads, God has swooped in and said "I know you have planned for that, but this is better for you, Ayne." And with a guiding hand, He has led my anxious self to better paths in life - ones that despite my extensive research and preparation, would have never known existed. Paths that have filled me with the great company of friends and families, safe environments on different continents and diverse intellectual and emotional challenges. It is through Islam that I have learnt to couple hard work and my reliance of God. And for the balance that that has opened my life to, I am grateful.

Freedom

My last reason for why Islam is because the religion has gifted me with freedom. At first glance, it might be a contradictory statement - Islam and freedom. Don't you have to eat halal, and stay off alcohol and wear the hijab? However, the freedom of choice is not what I am referring to. An ex-navy seal commander and motivational speaker, Jocko Willink, once said in a video that discipline equals freedom.

It is a hard concept to grasp, but he breaks it down through a few examples. For instance, physical freedom in old age can only be achieved through discipline in carrying out regular exercise and consuming a healthy diet, financial freedom can only be achieved through disciplined spending and more free time can be achieved through disciplined planning and use of time. It takes discipline to achieve freedom - that is why Buddhist monks wake up early and meditate day after day to cleanse their body from worldly ties.

Through Islam, I have realised that ultimate freedom is not retirement, but being granted access to Jannah after I die. And to achieve this freedom will take tremendous self restraint and discipline throughout life. However, working towards that goal doesn't mean I am otherwise shackled in this life either. Through doing work in propagating truth and good, life's freedom comes from seeking acknowledgement from God, and no one else. It is being free from the pressures and influences of society and one's own ego which is ever fleeting, itself influenced by the latest popular trends and craze.

Especially being an Asian, Muslim female professional, there are many expectations of how I should behave by different pockets of the community. May it be how I dress (as it is much debated by European governments), to what language I should speak (more Malay if I was back home in Malaysia) and to when I should start having a family (earlier back home, but later in the West). These views and expectations change so rapidly that I fail to keep up with them. There are also influences stemmed from my own desires - desire for wealth, power and status.

In contrast, the expectations from my Creator are permanent and constant, and by focusing on seeking acknowledgement from Him and only Him, I feel liberated, not only from the pressures of society, I also feel liberated from the desires of my own ego.

**

In the end, there are many reasons why I choose Islam, but here are the ones that I have tried to put into words. This has definitely strengthened my conviction in my faith so I urge you, the reader, to do the same and ask yourself: "Why do you believe what you believe?"

217: 10.10 Night Shifts

Tonight has been eerily quiet, thank God. The patients on the ward are stable, we have cleared A&E early so there has been a nice lull for me - I have to admit it has been a while since my bleep has gone off.

Didn’t get much of a nap in the afternoon. My pathetic attempt at a siesta involved a lot of restless tosses and turns with my eyemask firmly secured. I counted sheep, I counted backwards - no successful numerical antidote to my alertness. If I did doze off, it was definitely a light snooze - the kind where you are half asleep yet on the brink consciousness. After 2 hours of this, I abandoned ship and decided to have dinner early before heading to work.

I was worried that I would be extra tired tonight - but Alhamdulillah it has been fine. In these quiet periods, I have learnt to attempt a short snooze, even if it is for a minute. It is important to recharge. But although I can feel my eyes getting heavy, I still can’t bring myself to sleep. Maybe it was the last ditch attempt through emergency caffeine consumption that has rewired my brain to choose the former of the fight or flight response (I don’t drink caffeine ever - but desperate times calls for desperate measures).

I am predicting a really grumpy self on the way home tomorrow morning. Either from being sleep deprived or from a coffee virgin hangover.

216: 8.10 Uncertainty

Hello again, long time no see.

Life has been a whirlwind since coming back from our travels last summer. I have started FY2 in paediatrics and between squeezing in sleep between the weekend and night shifts, and adapting to new responsibilities as not the most junior member in the team, the last 2 months have flown by. Truth be told, I am enjoying my paediatrics placement - everyone here is lovely. Despite the long hours and fragile, young patients, everyone on the team is approachable and supportive. A far cry from what was experienced previously when I worked in adult medicine.

I guess the speciality attracts lovely, genuinely caring people. One does not choose paediatrics if one hates children - but in contrast, some people might fall into adult medicine even if they dislike it. 2 days ago, I ventured into Cambridge on the very few Saturdays I have off to attend a Paediatrics Open Day. As applications for speciality training loom even closer (this time next month, inshaAllah!), it was a very opportune time to get some tips from those who have gone through it. There were the mega experienced consultants, deans of the deanery and registrars present. And on the other end of the spectrum, there were even some senior house officers who had just started their paediatric career.

One thing that was inspiring to watch is how much they enjoyed their job. They mentioned over and over again how they felt so honoured to be taking care of sick children and how they felt grateful to the parents whom they have worked with who opened their lives and families to them. I did feel like I was amongst kindred spirits. And needless to say, I am definitely applying for paediatrics next month.

I feel that 2019 is a year of much uncertainty. I will be (hopefully) applying for and starting a new job in a new hospital, A is in the midst of an immersive coding bootcamp to reroute his entire career path. We might or might not be moving houses, and I might or might not be successful in acquiring yet another driving license (and maybe a car?). I will be also doing some of my professional exams early next year which is terrifying! My brain has left school for so long that it has forgotten how to study. And if rezki permits, we also plan to complete our Hajj next year as well, inshaAllah.

So, lots to do and sort out. The word adulting does come to mind every time I have to sit down and do something remotely serious - such as today, I have spent an hour on the phone talking to multiple people to sort out my study budget claims. Next on my list are tax refunds! Yippee!

But through all this chaos and uncertainty, I am grateful and rest assured that everything will happen as it should be - as He intends it to be. Even if I find myself flailing aimlessly in a vast body of ocean, I trust that He will direct the waves to lead me to shore, inshaAllah.

215: 14.8 Why I love him

We were walking home from a friend's house the other day - the couple just had a baby and we were eager to witness how much she had grown. For months now, A has spoken about this fried chicken place called Sam's Chicken. Every time we visited these particular friends, we would pass a branch of this chain, but every single time we would not go in and try. We were either too tired, or too full or weren't in the mood for fried chicken - so we have put off trying it for a very long time.

But this time, it was an ideal time to tuck in. We had had dinner, but that was a while ago - we had physical gastric room to spare. Our friend even offered us a lift to the station, which we politely declined in order to visit the shop on our way back. All this time, we have hyped this experience in our minds - the juiciness of the chicken, the hot spices of its marinade married to its crisply, fried skin. Needless to say, we were really excited to finally complete this foodie mission.

In our purchase, we were modest - only ordering six wings to take away. Thankfully our gluttony didn't overpower us that day. They packed it in a takeaway box and brown paper bag. Still hot in our clutches, we happily walked to the station - mission accomplished.

A yard away from reaching the trains, there were two men who approached us. "Assalamualaikum brother and sister," one greeted. "We have been walking everywhere for a bite to eat, can you please help us, we are really hungry." They were thin, tall and looked like they were from the Middle East. Behind the desperation in their voices, there was kindness in their eyes. It was obvious that they were genuinely seeking help.

Without missing a beat, A handed our brown paper bag of chicken wings to them. So fast, in fact, that it not only took me by surprise, but also the two men. "The whole bag? Are you sure?" they asked. In which, A answered, "Yes, please, take it." Instant smiles were plastered on their faces, and they even fist pump the sky. "Thank you so much," they said as they hastily walked away to enjoy their rezqi for the day. 

There and then, I was reminded why I love A. It was in his ease in helping others, in his willingness to share what he had with complete strangers and his unattached nature to material things. He could have thought that after all the anticipation and wait, we deserved to enjoy our purchase. That that purchase was ours, and ours alone. But he didn't, in an instant, he must have thought, we have waited this long, we therefore can wait a little bit longer.

In the end, we didn't have to wait too long as a few days after that encounter, we ordered a delivery from Sam's Chicken to our house. The verdict? It really is nothing special. Good, but not great. So I am doubly grateful that A did what he did that day. 

214: 8.8 Athens

There is so much to be said about our two week adventure through Greece and Italy. My original intention was to write about it everyday - but we found ourselves completely exhausted after each day's expeditions. I also needed time to process it all - it was one thing to take in all the sights and sounds of the country, it is another to sit down, ponder and reflect on what we had been fortunate to see and experience.

My first impression of Athens, was boy, was it hot! Even with two fans at full blast with every possible window open, our Airbnb apartment was a sauna at every hour of the day. We joined a free walking tour on the second day - our guide was a comedic young woman, whose name she shares with one of the Greek goddesses. She taught us about Plato and Socrates, how ancient temples were slowly transformed into churches, and how some Greek myths were actually rooted in reality. For instance, she mentioned that Hercules was an actual man! Who knew?

We visited many places during our short stay in Athens, but one that impacted me most was when we stepped foot into Acropolis. What once used to be a thriving city filled with temples for Athena and marketplaces and places of law and theatre, is now reduced to rubble. Shells of buildings they once were. Acropolis is sat perched on top of a hill top. With a majestic front entrance made almost exclusively of marble, we actually had to watch our steps carefully in fear of slipping off. 

We walked closer to the Parthenon and I thought, "How could they have built this?" It stood tall, elegant and strong. "And how could they have destroyed it?" They didn't have machines back then, how did the Persian army manage to destroy such a majestic structure? In my ignorance, I thought maybe elephants? But we soon found out that they used bombs back then too. 

It was strange to witness the skeletons of what once was many people's homes. I wondered whether if my town in Malaysia was destroyed, would I have wanted people to visit it in the future. I felt uneasy thinking that some tourists may be posing for pictures next to the rubbles of my house - somehow seeking fame or joy from my loss. 

With that in mind, we explored the site with humility and respect. These walls have seen things that our small imagination can't fathom. They have seen life and death in many cycles throughout the years as it has gone through many transformations and rebirths. I felt the weakness of my being - the fragility of my physical self and the palpability of my mortality. However mighty or powerful a community or township is, there is always the chance that it could be completely wiped out in a mere second. Subhanallah. Truly, how small we are in the grand scheme of things.

213: 19.7 A Milestone

A and I are soaking the sun up in Athens at the moment. There are stories to tell about our travels so far, but I wanted to dedicate this post to me reaching the end of my most junior year of being a doctor. Yesterday marked the last ever day of me being an FY1, Alhamdulillah!

The day was met with a mix of excitement, relief and sadness. The night before I was toiling away in the kitchen making my team a batch of pandan almond cookies as a sweet parting gift. They were gobbled down pretty quickly by the surgical team - thankfully my sparse baking experience did make for a successful experimental bake this time! The day was surreal too - has it already been a year?! Boy, it went pretty quickly!

And it was also equally sad as I had to bid goodbye to colleagues who are going to leave the hospital. There were many "I will miss yous" and "It was fun working with yous" exchanged - it really did feel like an end of an era. To think that a year ago, we were all gathered in the lecture hall, us new FY1s - all wide eyed enthusiasts who were carrying our medical dreams and that of our families on our backs. We felt somewhat like imposters, thinking over and over again, were we really equipped to treat sick patients as doctors? Since that day, through many hardships, trials and blunders, we grew with one another - gaining a little bit more confidence with each passing day. We were there for the tears, temper tantrums and we were present with mugs of coffee or tea when one of us needed an energy boost. Strangers became colleagues, and colleagues became friends.

I am glad that the year has come to an end, but I am too closing this chapter with a heavy heart.

For now, I am determined to celebrate my survivorship through travelling care free with the husband around Greece and Italy for the next two weeks. Alhamdulillah, after the year we had, we do really need a holiday.

212: 13.7 Ramadan

It was past the halfway mark in Ramadan - and after surviving many back to back weekend shifts, I really needed a spiritual boost. The fasting was relatively easy this Ramadan despite my initial worries. This was my first fasting month as a full time working lady. Days were long and hot, and I was nervous about being tired or thirsty whilst on-call. Before, as a student, I could have easily shirked off responsibility - skipping classes for an extra hour of shut eye, or opting out of going out for a walk, choosing instead to being under a roof, sheltered from the sun's harsh rays.

But surprisingly, and thankfully, God had blessed this Ramadan with so much ease, Alhamdulillah. I had more energy than I would have normally (especially if compared to my normal post-prandrial lunchtime self). I could cycle to and from work without any fuss, and on busy days, I sometimes didn't even notice that I haven't broken my fast until the realisation that outside was clothed in darkness had set in. My body, my mind and my soul felt lighter. 

However, after a long stretch of non-stop oncalls, I found myself waning. By the time I got home at night, I had not the energy to perform some of the special optional prayers of Ramadan. I could barely pry my eyes open for the obligatory prayers! It was like I was slipping away from Him, a feeling that is unfortunately all too familiar. Feeling distant will subsequently lead to feeling anxious.

In efforts to gain closeness, I suggested that we visit a local mosque for night prayers. We arrived only to be utterly disappointed - as my sister and I were turned away as there was "no space for sisters". On the angry walk back, I felt let down by the Muslim community and disgusted by such alienating behaviour. Unfortunately, this was not the first time this happened, and I predict it won't be the last. But that is a long story, for another time.

Basically after the shambles of that night, I just wanted to find an inclusive place to celebrate this beautiful month. And thats when we visited the Ramadan Tent Project. Located in central London, people of all faiths and none gathered together to open fast together. The tent was filled to its brim with people from all walks of life. Strangers opening dialogue with each other, talks on Islam, debunking some misconceptions of it preceded the beautiful call to prayer.

The azan brought tears to my eyes - didn't realise how much I had missed it. We prayed together, ate together and joined each other in conversation. I felt the spirit of Islam more here than in that so-called mosque. In that realisation, I felt both happy and sad. Sad that some religious institutions are misusing their power in misrepresenting our faith by excluding women from seeking closeness to God. But I also felt happy that the younger communities are doing something about it - working hard in changing perceptions and uniting communities as Islam has taught us.

With all the ups and downs that Ramadan had brought, I am so thankful for being given the chance to experience this blessed month in full. One of my seniors asked me, "Aren't you relived that you don't have to fast anymore in a few days time? You can finally eat again!"

I thought about it for a while, then gave him a smile.

"I think I am a little bit sad that it's going to be over soon. I am truly going to miss it."

211: 12.7 Coming home

The day has been solemn, chilly and grey today. Maybe a side effect of England losing to Croatia in yesterday's match. A and I were on one of our long walks along the canal yesterday - we watched the match by proxy - checking scores whenever we hear yells of disbelief or triumph from neighbouring crowds. Unlike days before, yesterday the atmosphere was less lively, not as animatic or vocal as when the team was on its winning streak.

We made it home to catch the last 15 minutes of the game. Although we are not football enthusiasts in any stretch of the imagination, we felt the nation's pain as Croatia scored its winning goal in the 11th hour.

On my cycle to work today, there were still many England flags up - on cars and houses. Probably marking the nation's solidarity and pride to the home team - they came so far. I was sitting in one of the oncology clinics today as part of my taster week. Mid-consulation with a patient, we heard loud machine like noises from helicopters and planes gracing the skies. The metal blades whipping the clouds above our heads. It was so loud that we had to stop our conversation in its tracks.

The wife of the patient pointed upwards and said, "Looks like Trump has arrived!"
Oh God, I momentarily forgot about him and his unwelcomed visit. 
"Or maybe thats the football team finally coming home!" she added with a laugh.

210: 11.7 Intentions

Hello after a long-ish hiatus!

As I write this, I am drowning in lethargy in the middle of a bustling coffee shop - trying my best to absorb alertness from the surrounding environment and from my caffeinated drinks. As a non-coffee drinker, I even resorted to taking a sip of A's iced coffee (yuck). The primary intention of visiting was for me to read - but after a few pages, and many yawns later, I have realised that continuing this effort will probably result in a semi-comatose customer drooling on a cafe's clean, nicely polished wooden table.

Really goes to show that the All Mighty has plans for everything - one might have the noblest of intentions, but in the end of the day Allah swt knows best. After many challenging weeks at work lately, I found myself struggling to find meaning. Of late, I have been an autopilot at work - clock in, work, clock out. Counting the minutes to the end of the shifts, one foot in front of the other, one patient after another. On one particular day for instance, the trains decided not to work yet again during a weekend shift. I had a choice to make - to turn up to work late, or to fork out a sizable sum of money to pay for an Uber to take me to work.

"But its alot of money!" I said whilst talking through the dilemma with A.
"Yes, but people are relying on you."
"I doubt that the hospital are going to pay me back though - they never do. And this is a alot of money for just transport."

A paused, gave me a minute to collect my thoughts and to calm down.

Then he said, "You do realise that the work you do is filled with blessings, don't you? You take care of the sick, you help make them better. That money spent for an Uber is ultimately a small investment - not only for your professional life, but also on your spiritual self - on your Hereafter. So it is never ever a waste."

I sat there, taking it all in - realising I no longer have a legitimate rebuttal to this argument. He was right; completely right. In the months where I just plodded on in work, I had lost my purpose and drive. And it was high time that I renewed by intentions. For me, medicine has never been just a job, it has been a calling. But this is easily forgotten through the demanding nature of its work. So I am eternally grateful that A is here to remind me of what is truly important.

209: 10.5 Tick!

This is the customary photo I took in front of my first ever conference poster, Alhamdulillah. Being a doctor in the UK involves so much more work outside routine clinical care. To get ahead, everyone has to go the extra mile through doing audits, getting published in medical journals, presenting posters, conducting research, teaching medical students and assuming leadership roles in hospital. On top of all that, one also has to have time to study for professional exams (which one has to pay for, by the way!). 

Although I can't complain about the multifaceted aspect of my job (I love complexity), it does require me to be very organised. For instance, tick box projects that can take months to finish were thought of weeks before I started my job in hospital. And as you get more senior in this profession, the less time you have to involve yourself in extra-curricular activities. And as I am currently child-less, there is no time like the present to get shit done.

And because most speciality training programmes are quite competitive, doctors haven't the luxury to leave important life choices to the last minute without taking years out of training to "find yourself". For instance, as my heart is set on the rigorous life of being a future paediatrician, my CV has to reflect the commitment to that speciality throughout my years in medical school and work. And it is not enough to just say "I love paeds", you have to back it up with evidentiary support through certificates, feedback and projects. I have learnt long ago that if it wasn't on paper, it unfortunately means it didn't happen.

Sometimes it does feel a little soul destroying to constantly compete. I was discussing this with my other medical colleagues over dinner the other day and we all agreed that in medicine, there is always another staircase to climb. In medical education for instance, a clinical fellow can upgrade to become a professor followed by being programme director, then a dean. In leadership, a consultant is super seeded by a medical director, who is super seeded by a chief medical officer of the hospital, then the region, then the country. There is always room to improve and there is always something to climb. In the larger scheme of things, I am pretty much at the bottom, and looking up feels very daunting.

However, as scared as I feel, I also do welcome these challenges. All greats started somewhere, probably where I am standing right now, so bring it on, King Kong!

208: 9.5 Rays

A few weeks ago I ventured to Scotland solo. My first time since being a wife. I braved the four plus hour trip via train to Edinburgh to attend a conference. I was greeted with typical British weather on arrival where one minute it was sunny enough to get a tan on and the next it was like the Heavens opened unleashing floods of rain drops. I remember exiting my hostel with sunglasses and enroute to the conference centre, I was drenched holding my thankfully well packaged poster.

Between talks and workshops I would roam around the city without a map. Taking in the beautiful sights the city had to offer whilst walking on cobbled streets that are centuries old. Edinburgh has been elegantly preserved in time despite modernity. Especially when visiting the castle, a sight so grand, one cannot help but be in a state of awe upon seeing it after exiting the train station.

However, travelling without A was strange. I stayed at a pod hostel (like the ones found in Japan) where each traveller is given their own designated pod in the wall. It was comfortable enough given its reputation but amongst young, backpacking students, the isolation that I felt was easily palpable. As much as I treasure independence, I whole heartedly wished A was there to experience it with me. 

207: 8.5 Tomorrow

Tomorrow is Malaysia's 14th General Elections. Everyone will come out in droves to cast their vote for the party that they favour. The excitement and energy has been palpable in the last few months, even from many thousands of miles away. Every family dinner conversation has been littered with talk of politics and my social media feed has been flooded with political news or fake news (I can't really tell anymore). Even my WhatsApp has not been immune from its influence. I for one, am sick and tired of this toxic atmosphere - one that has pinned family member against family member, friend against friend, social media poster against random anonymous commenter. I am so relieved that in less than 24 hours, this will all be over.

Unlike many of my peers, I have chose not to participate in this election. I do believe in democracy - and I have voted in local elections in the UK previously. But in terms of GE14, I have come to the conclusion that all options are just not good enough. I dislike all the candidates that are running for the coveted Prime Minister role. Between a possible corrupt candidate and an ex prime minister who is inching towards being a centenarian who in his recent past life jailed his now comrade, the options are really not that great. If it was at all possible, I want both of them to lose - and lose badly.

Some might call my kind (the non voters) selfish, ignorant or irresponsible. Our ancestors fought for the right to vote and you are taking it for granted! To that, I say every vote is valuable. A vote needs to be earned, one needs to believe in the person or party whom one votes for. And this year, unfortunately, there is no option that is good enough - end of. "Vote for the less of two evils!" one might say. Possible, but no thank you. Does it mean that I am neglecting my civic duty? I would rather express my responsibilities throughout the years by giving back to my local community and nation, rather than expressing it once every five years because of peer pressure.

Maybe one day I will vote in Malaysia's General Election - when people talk more about policy than politics. But until that day comes, I exercise my right as a Malaysian citizen to abstain quietly and observe as the circus comes to a final close. So other Malaysians, I hand it over to you - accepting whatever decision that comes out of it. Heres hoping that on the day after tomorrow, we will be welcoming back some ounces of sanity, normality and peace.

206: 18.4 Spring

The sun is shining, flowers are blooming, ducks are quacking and families of geese are leaving their excrement on our pavements.

Yes, it is officially spring! Time to dust off my long neglected sunglasses.

205: 17.4 Photographs

On my trip back home, I went through old family albums and found some priceless photos. Photos of moments forgotten by fallible human memory. Unlike myself, my papa was so good at recording these moments - on old film cameras and chunky video cameras. He would be in the corner of the room, quietly observing and recording the most ordinary of days. But mediocre days back then become priceless decades later as today, I get to see my late grandfather's smile and hear his voice on screen as he walked little me across the garden. Moments like that fly by so fast, like in a blink of an eye and I am grateful that my papa was so patient and steadfast in his recording of them.

Since they were first taken, the photos now have gracefully aged with time. And like everything else, there will come a day where these photos will cease to be identified. I guess this is where digital photos come in - memories can now be preserved forever in simple and accessible hard disks. But there is also the personal conundrum of being in the moment, and recording the moment for later. I am so bad at taking photos or videos of things that I would like to remember because I wanted to experience things through my own eyes rather than a phone screen. This is why I came back from a three week holiday in Malaysia with a measly few photos to account for it.

I would probably need to find a balance, to take more photos and videos and to not feel so awkward in recording moments. Because when I am old and grey, I would really would like to have the opportunity to reminisce on my good old days. On a comfortable couch, a cup of tea in hand, probably looking at holograms or a virtual reality experiences (or whatever young people will invent in the future) of old memories, untarnished by time.

204: 16.4 Going home?

As quickly as a blink of an eye, my heavenly three weeks in Malaysia have come to an end and it is time to go back to London (home?) to face the mundanity of reality. It has been so nice to spend time with family and friends, which always makes it harder to leave.

I wish there was a transporter (like those floo powder links in Harry Potter) where one can be transported anywhere in a second. I can work Mondays to Fridays and go back to KL to spend the weekend with family, perhaps? That way, I wouldn’t have to miss as many weddings, birthdays, bridal showers, graduations and family reunions like I have for the past several years. 

Before stepping into the car on the way to the airport, Mama said, “Ayne is going overseas as an ibadah. InshaAllah, she will be rewarded for her sacrifices.” There is magic in a mother’s words - they somehow make heavy things feel lighter. 

And as I am currently in a plane quickly descending into Heathrow Airport, a part of me wishes that I could board a plane straight back to where I was. 

Till next time, Malaysia. I will see you soon again inshaAllah. 

203: 15.4 11 years

Me and you, 11 years ago. Look where we have been, my love, and I can’t wait to see where forever will bring us.

All my love,

Your wife

202: 14.4 Rays

We had a couple of days of intense heat these past few days. Ones with no sign of rain. The sun’s rays were particular testing so much so that I found myself unable to sleep at my inlaws despite having the fan on on full blast. A had to kindly wipe iced water on me using a cloth to cool me down (his idea, not mine!).

But I knew it was unlike any other days when during a drive to my friends’ house, my phone threw up its hands in defeat after overheating. It was placed on the car’s dashboard as I was using it to navigate myself there, and suddenly the map that it showed was no longer visible and instead a picture of a thermometer appeared on its screen. 

It said that my phone’s temperature was too high and it has locked itself down. As this has never happened before, I went into a bit of a panic and stopped the car on the side of the road. Unlocking my phone from its holder, I placed it on the air conditioner that was spouting out semi-cold air in efforts to cool it off like A was cooling me off with ice cloths last night. 

I even opened my windows a little bit to let out all of the hot air from the inside of the car. Needless to say, I too was close to throwing a tantrum too, being drenched in sweat and all. But thankfully after a few minutes, my phone came back to life and I resumed my journey, being careful to place my temperamental phone in a place of shade.

After that ordeal, you can imagine the joyful glee I was in when the next day, the sky suddenly opened up and a river of rain poured down from the Heavens. It was truly a blissful moment!

201: 13.4 Blackout

Several nights ago, I was rudely awoken from slumber to find that I was drenched in sweat. The air was still, humid and heavy. The nightlight at the corner of the room was off and the fan and air conditioner was also not running. 

I turned to A, still in very deep slumber, and gave him a few pats. “I think there is no electricity,” I whispered, “Can you please check the fuse box?”

Half asleep, his eyelids still heavy, he slowly got up from the bed, guiding himself through the dark using the light found on his phone. He checked whether a flip of a switch may be able to reverse this. Unfortunately, it was not a local problem - we peered out the window to find that our neighbours’ houses were also pitch black. This was officially a neighbourhood blackout. 

A called the local electricity company to be informed that the problem is currently being rectified and it will take another 1-2 hours. We resorted to manually fanning ourselves with magazines to help us relax back to sleep. But we found it pretty difficult to unwind whilst breathing this solid, stationary air.

In the end, I decided to sleep on the marble tiles as that was the only thing that was remotely cold. The fridge was out of service and we had no portable fans. The tiles felt like ice on my skin and thats where I found enough comfort to shut my eyes temporarily and sleep. A could have slept anywhere - he is sturdier in withstanding heat than I am. But not wanting me to sleep alone on the floor, he too laid himself next to me albeit on the carpet. He held my hand in his and all that I could think was how lucky am I to be his. And how strange a predicament we have found ourselves in now.

After an hour or so, the lights were back on and we rejoiced at the prospect in snuggling under the duvet again.

200: 12.4 Friends

There are many who I have the privilege of knowing for a decade or more, some who I have even known since birth. They have witnessed them grow from giggly school children to awkward teenagers to our current stage in life where we are trying to navigate ourselves through adulthood. They too have seen me gone through the same journey. I know their families, and they know mine. You know that you are good friends when we ask each other, "How is your mom? Is your dad still busy pursuing that hobby of his? Is your grandmother well? How is your sister coping with school?"

They are the friends who have active conversations on social media with your parents and grandmother through comment sections. Sometimes, even more than you do! They were there for when you were blowing the candles off of your 12th birthday cake and they were also there when you took your first official steps as a wife. Some accompanied you through the loneliness of being abroad and have seen you through to university and now to work. Amongst the constant changes of home addresses, colleagues, jobs and fashion styles, they have been some of the constant constants in life. And you feel so lucky to still be rewarded with their presence in your life.

Sometimes I wonder whether there is a point to forming new friendships if I already have them? The induction of becoming newly found friends involves the sometimes painful and dreary process of a lot of small talk, niceties and baseless praise. Some make friends ever so easily, but I have always found difficulties that are hard to shake off.

But I find hope in knowing that my forever friends now did start off as strangers many years ago. Through trial and error, I have learnt that friendships that are worth fighting for always start from ground zero and takes effort and time for its strong foundations to be built. Many times, those same foundations which you thought would survive any weather may start to form cracks. Some may just crumble back to ground zero. But there are those that strongly stand tall for many years despite the neglect.

For every relationship to survive, you must commit to working on it. That maybe in the form of having a sleepover once a year, or that may involve a text or an email ever so often. Or maybe a simple dinner once in a while. Friendships created are only sustained with the time and work you put into it.

So for all my forever friends whom I had the pleasure of catching up with (and those who I didn't get the chance to) these past few weeks, I am honoured to (still) be in your lives. Please reconsider me for the same friendship position next year.

199: 11.4 Feeling pampered

It is a gross falsity to think that because we wear the headscarf, Muslim hijabis do not take pride in their hair. Because the truth couldn't be further than that statement. In high school dormitories and homes nationwide, there are millions of Muslim girls who are unravelling their headscarves after coming home from school or work to let out their well groomed hair. From hair of different colours and styles to those that are straightened or permed. Our lovely locks are ours, and we take great care in maintaining them.

Sadly because of the lack of many adequate hair facilities catering for Muslim women in the West, I normally save my sessions of expert hair care for my trips back to Malaysia. This time back I ventured into a women's only salon located in the outskirts of the city. There, customers walk in and can confidently shed of their hijabs for a couple of hours of hair sprucing whilst still adhering to our faith. This trip alone I have gone to the salon twice for multiple hair treatments. Every year, I would try something new and this year was no exception.

Similar to massages, there is something so relaxing when at the salon, a person is washing your hair for you. Having their fingers slowly massage one's scalp whilst detangling one's straggly locks under the soft pulsations of warm water, it is heavenly! And after the hair wash, there is the soothing blow dry. Where the hair stylists would warmly blow out the once neglected hair to reveal a bouncy spirit in one's threads that has not been visible for a long period of time.

Sometimes I wonder whether I go to spas and hair salons not for any particular reason except to pamper myself. And although alot of money has been spent doing just that, I feel that as it is a once-a-year affair, every cent is ultimately worth it.

So for now my hair has been reunited with its youthful inner soul albeit temporarily - until the annual trip to the hair salon.

198: 10.4 Potating

Thought of today: Is this what it feels like to be a human potato?

After just over two weeks in Malaysia, I am pretty sure that I have grown in girth. Thighs, waist, arms and cheeks have been affected - and I am worried that Hazel (my bicycle) will not be able to cope with its owner's extra weight during its daily work commute.

197: 9.4 A Hard Day

*Details in this post are partly fictitious*

A few weeks ago, a few days shy before hopping on a plane back to KL for an overdue holiday, I was working one of the many on-call shifts (ones that I had to do early to make up for the ones that I will miss). I remember it vividly as the day that I came home, went into the bedroom and broke down in tears.

There was a crash call earlier that day.
My beep went off.
"Cardiac arrest call, Ward A. Cardiac arrest call, Ward A."

Like others on-call, I ran down the stairs heading to the emergency. Upon arriving to the corridor, the nurses were shouting, "That bay, doctor! That bay!" Before discovering who the patient was, my heart sank down into my feet - I knew who this patient was. When I got there, my worst fears became true - it was my patient, she had just moved wards last week. There were people frantically giving her CPR and others scrambling to get viable access for medication. In the background, I heard her husband wailing in the corridor.

I jumped in and continued CPR. "Do not die on me. Do not dare die on me," I thought with every jump of the chest. The conversations I had with her a few days ago ran through my mind - she seemed so well and was gaining strength with each passing day. Multiple shocks were administered without any avail. We continued CPR - I could feel and hear her ribs breaking under my hands.

We repeated the cycle every 2 minutes for almost an hour. In hindsight, we should have stopped earlier as it was clear that we were never going to get her back. But many of us knew her and her story, so giving up prematurely was initially not an option. But after 50 minutes, we all agreed that whatever we were doing was futile - she was gone.

Tthere was a deafening silence around her bedside. We were all quietly mourning her passing - heads down, eyes fixated on her lifeless body. I held her hand, and whispered in her ear, "It is ok, you are safe." I thought it was worthwhile despite knowing that she was too far gone to hear me. After a while, people started to leave the cubicle. Senior doctors broke the bad news with the family whilst I helped the nursing staff clean her body. Sheets covered with blood and gastric juices were replaced with clean ones, lines were removed and before exiting the ward, I closed both of her eyes shut. She looked like she was peacefully sleeping just then.

Feeling exceptionally numb physically and mentally, I was faced with the reality that despite how traumatising that ordeal was, it was only the beginning of my shift - there are many more potential emergencies that could follow on later today. I had to keep it together. But having found a quiet, dark corner of the hospital, I put on my earphones and blasted loud music to drown out the emotions and thoughts that were reeling in my head. Looking back, I am thankful for those bleep-free moments of sanity - I couldn't have completed my shift otherwise.

When I retuned home that night, the extra headspace that was afforded through the serenity of my familiar bedroom allowed for buried emotions to instantly resurface. I was sitting with A, his arms around me whilst I repeated, "We couldn't save her."

196: 8.4 Family reunions

We hosted a family reunion yesterday in celebration of my brother's epic high school examinations results. It was a true family affair with my dad roasting the lamb on the grill whilst my brother, A and I were busy in the kitchen cooking up nasi lemak to feed 60+ guests. We were preparing for the feast two nights in advance with my brother and I chopping onions, slowly sweating them in the pan up till tweaking the taste of the sambal the morning of. It was a nice opportunity to also bond with my brother. In a blink of an eye, this once little boy has grown up to be a hippy version of a gentleman. And as he has until recently been away in boarding school most of the time I have been back home, we never got the chance to talk until now. Talking about school, relationships, growing pains and work - it felt really nice.

The day of the kenduri, we woke up early to tie up loose ends. I woke up with a throbbing headache that morning, so I was mostly half asleep whilst chopping up cucumber and halving eggs. Thankfully, most things were ready an hour before guests were anticipated to arrive - so I squeezed in a much needed power nap. When the clock hit noon, the firsts guests arrived followed by a steady wave of many others throughout the day until just before sun down. We feasted, we laughed and I managed to catch up with many of my family and friends whom I haven't seen in a while.

Since the last kenduri I attended, the family has expanded. There were babies that I have not met before, and the babies that I did meet last year have now grown into confidently walking and talking toddlers. There were so many of us at one point, that I just had to sit down in a corner to slowly take it all in. "I haven't been in a family gathering in a while. This is overwhelming," I confessed to my cousin. In London, we were blessed to host about 20 people at most in our little flat during Eid, but this must be at least 4-5 times that. The number of beings in the house coupled with the responsibility of being a hostess was definitely a shock to my senses. But after a quick breather, I soon overcame it all and persevered.

Although family reunions involve huge amounts of planning, preparation and patience, it is always to gather everyone together under one roof. This - amongst many other reasons - is one reason why (for now at least) I would not want to retire in UK. It is this sense of family and community what I miss the most. When abroad, it is very easy to have an isolated life. One where someone is devoid of true community. One where someone can exist without truly living. It is almost impossible to be that way in Malaysia. There is always someone's open house or wedding or aqiqah or doa selamat or house warming. One must have a calendar just to keep up with social events alone. However, with that, family members can also be too involved in one's life so much so it is hard to grow independently, or to do something without everyone else and their neighbours knowing about it. But I guess it is a small price to pay for being somewhere where everyone not only knows your name but also cares for you and your family like their own.

Because in the end of the day, they are all you have. God, your family and your friends who might as well be.

195: 7.4 Sweat

Todays question of the day (post eating ones body weight in lamb): Is it possible for someone to perspire oil?

194: 6.4 Roots

Escapism;

the tendency to seek distraction and relief from unpleasant realities.

This is what it feels like when naming both countries, UK and Malaysia, as both (and sometimes, neither) as home. It is framed in the sense of longing to be somewhere else afforded by having multiple places that one associates with home. For instance, I am looking forward to the day when I do not have to endure KL traffic and KL drivers everyday. But when in London, I look forward to the day I return to my childhood home, cocooned by the comforts of family, food and friends. I dislike the unpredictability of London weather (especially snow) as much as I dislike that in KL, I can only spend time with people in some sort of mall (where are all the trees?!). 

I love the accessibility to delicious food when in KL whilst at the same time, I miss feeling less sluggish and more energised, like when I am in London. I treasure how ordinary and plain my lifestyle is in London - being forced to be economical in spending. But I do also enjoy being a complete spendthrift by living a little bit more luxuriously during my short visits back to my hometown. I love being around my family but I also do sometimes yearn for my extra space to be independent. 

Somehow, there are blessings to not planting roots to one piece of ground. Maybe sowing seeds in multiple farms is the way forward for now.

193: 5.4 Starry Sky

Woke up extra early this morning to bring my siblings to the planetarium today. There are a few oddities in this sentence - the fact that my siblings voluntary chose to go to a museum on a day off, and out of my love for them, I woke up super early to drive into the city centre to get there. The building itself was quite impressive albeit abit unkempt. Outside the main entrance there was a guy with a telescope pointed at the glaring sun.

We each had a turn looking into the telescope - it was my first time looking at the sun through filtered lens - so that was quite impressive. But I was more preoccupied at feeling sorry for this man whose job is to stand outside in this hot tropical country convincing people to be interested at his source of discomfort. But he seemed happy enough though.

The museum in the building was quaint. Thankfully the entrance fee was waived today for whatever reason. There were exhibitions on constellations and the theory of how solar systems are formed. Further through the museum, there was an entire exhibition on our sole Malaysian astronaut. "We have a Malaysian astronaut?" asked my brother, quite puzzled at this discovery. "Yes! And we have met him!"

Our uncle was the mission's personal doctor - so for a family dinner many years ago, he brought the nation's astronaut candidates over for a short meet and greet. My brother was a toddler back then, probable explains why he couldn't recall. 

Other than videos of the Malaysian astronaut in space eating soup and conducting prayers, there was not much excitement or interactivity presented to visitors - owing to the fact that most buttons were broken and even the opportunity to zip oneself into a sleeping bag (akin to ones in space) lacked an actual zipper. But we soon found a possible explanation to the faulty exhibitions when a group of hyperactive and enthusiastic group of young school children ran past us. The museum is probably fighting a losing battle with sticky, grimy and aggressive little hands that come with constant school trips.

All in all, it was a good day out - more because I got to spend quality time with my siblings who were growing up way too fast for my liking. Sometimes, I wish that we were on a planet with a lighter force of gravity (maybe the moon!) where time would tick by more slowly (see I did learn something today!).

192: 4.4 Memory Lane

Took a very brief walk down memory lane whilst visiting my youngest brother at my former school. To think that it has been ten years since I was Form 5 at this school - a whole decade has passed - where has time gone? As I passed current students as they were making their way back to the dormitories - fresh faced, bright eyed, filled with big hopes and aspirations - did I look like them back then? Probably, I might have had less spring in my step, but I do see some similarities. Oh God, does that mean I am an auntie now to them?!

I walked by spots where A and I would spend hours talking. I stole a cheeky selfie and sent it to him captioning it: "Back to where we started <3." Those trees, those buildings, those streets - they all bore witness to us growing up. From shy, anxious freshmen to semi-adults who were more confident than we should have been. 

This was once both our safe haven and torture chamber in equal measures. They built an insular environment inside these gates - one with its own rules, culture and traditions. This was where we were trained to be adults before we were barfed out into the harshness of reality. And this was where I found my forever friends, and my forever husband too. And just for that, I cannot thank it enough.

191: 3.4 Fake (Medical) News

"These breathing exercises - it kills cancer cells, and practically cures you!"

She was demonstrating how this miraculous exercises works by breathing in deeply through your nose and waving your arms straight in front of you. There I was in the corner of the room, brows furrowed, a look of confusion plastered on my face, trying my best to hold my tongue. If breathing exercises did cure cancer, what are wasting all this time and money on cancer research for?

Coming back home, this particular problem has really gotten under my skin. The reliance on supplements, religious healing, belief in supernatural forces and fake medical news is so widespread that I can safely estimate that 1 in 2 people that I know will rely on one or more of the above mentioned. And it physically pains me to think that the people who believe in such things are not uneducated people - they are professionals with tertiary or postgraduate education. Even their scholarly background couldn't prevent them from believing and spreading "medicines" that are not based on any fact. It pains me even more that the capitalisation of people's desperation for cures has become such a booming business venture. These religious figures in the form of multiple ustaz who use religious texts or "seeing eyes" to knowingly or ignorantly mislead the vulnerable sick and their families through hocus pocus is just plain wrong. And they are profiting handsomely for it too! Ugh, this just makes my blood boil!

For instance, there was once an aunt who said to me that an ustaz could still detect 10 spots of cancer in her body just by looking at her. What is this nonsense? Does he have XRay vision like XMen?! And the sad things was, that she believed in him. These beliefs are so widespread that it made me question my own tendencies. I was asking myself whether being trained in the West, maybe I was too narrow minded? Yes, I have no faith in faith healing - I am adamant that one does not need someone to pray on your behalf, everyone can ask God for protection on one's own - we have a direct line to Him all the time. But maybe some traditional remedies have some merit that has yet to be discovered?

However, every time I try to understand these things - for instance, a certain leaf from a certain plant cures dengue - my rational brain ends up throwing a hissy fit. None of this makes any sense. End of, full stop.

No, religious "ustaz" figures cant shield you more from "dangerous spells" than your own prayers can.
No, leaves do not cure dengue.
No, there is no evidence for pantang.
No, supplements do not work - you just pee them out anyway.
No, breathing exercises do not cure cancer.
No, your epileptic fits are not caused by you being possessed by jin.
No, vaccines are not a Jewish tool to control Muslims.
No, seeking help from witch doctors is not "Islamic".

Just, no.

190: 2.4 The White House

"Pakcik, tengok rumah ni besar nya! Ada security guard langsung, macam muzium! (Uncle, look at this huge house! They even have a security guard of their own, its like a museum!)"

It was a hot day several years ago, it hadn't rained for a couple of days now. My father's driver was driving me from central Kuala Lumpur back home. Enroute, we passed a house that looked like a mansion. I remember it being white, huge pillars guarded its entrance. Its gate was tall, iron-like structures complete with an outhouse for the guards to rest in. It was then when I made the statement above. I continued on telling him how it made my house look small in comparison.

"Tapi rumah Ayne pon besar (But Ayne, your house is also big)," he replied.
"Ye la, tapi tak sebesar ni! (Yes, but not as big as this!)"
"Tapi rumah Ayne bungalow, banyak bilik, ada ruang untuk kereta juga. Besar la tu! (But your house is a bungalow with many rooms and space to park cars. Your house is big!)"

I stopped to think, and acknowledged the truth in his statement. Yes, my house was not as big as this house/ library like structure but it is still large compared to many houses - even compared to many of our neighbours' houses. It made me realise that one's outlook really depends on one's vantage point. Looking upstream, you can be reminded at how little you have in life in comparison. But if you turn and look downstream, that can provide a completely different picture all together.

Suddenly, things that you take for granted, like a private porch to park multiple cars safely, look like a luxury not afforded by the masses. And things like having a large living area and a separate dining area just for eating together with family become things to be extra grateful for.

Growing up, my close friends were somewhat from similar backgrounds to myself. Our parents were educated and were working in professional fields, being chauffeured by drivers was a normality, elaborate birthday parties were held practically every month and holidays overseas was something we all did during school holidays. As a child, I was never aware of any other version of life. It was only in high school that I was aware that there were cars where their windows had to be manually cranked open rather than opened by simply pressing a button. To say that I lived a life of privilege is a definite understatement.

Thankfully age has afforded me with more clarity. The rose tinted glasses that I once saw the world with is now off. And the ugly, inequitable reality of the world has become increasingly apparent. The fact that social mobility upwards is more the exception than the rule, and how wealth seems to always be concentrated to the elite minority pains me. How money seems to open doors of opportunity, education, power and health. And how I could live my life not worrying about ever losing the roof over my head, but at the same time, my neighbours might be silently worried about losing theirs.

I am still in the midst of internally figuring this complicated world that we live in today. But in every process of change, the first step is always the realisation of a problem - and boy, do we have a problem!

189. 1.4 Food

Glorious, glorious food.

I thank God for the mass immigration to Malaysia a century ago to enable us to create such melting pots of authentic and delicious delicacies. Don't get me wrong, Malay, Indian and Chinese dishes stand strong on their own accord, but surely being in close proximities throughout the years have strongly influenced each others palates.

During the past few days, I have had 3 full meals everyday - breakfast, lunch and dinner with snacks in between. Not good for my waistline but oh boy, has it been heaven like! My body was initially slow at adapting to this new regimen, but it has now somehow compensated by placing me into longer food comatose states. After indulging on a plate filled with soft, slow cooked beef ribs yesterday, I barely managed to wake up for noon the next morning only to join my grandma and cousin for a full on meal served on banana leaves. I mean, if I were to eat like this everyday, there is no doubt that I will be enroute to early heart disease. But I take solace in thinking that I am on holiday - so sue me!

In a couple of weeks time I would have to go back to the sad days of cold lunch sandwiches and packaged fruit. Here, I can devour fruits straight from the tree! Utter bliss! But in all honesty, when it comes to food, no one comes close to Asia. With the West who prides itself with seasonings of salt and pepper, we have enough spices to fill an entire room.

Signing off here, to go into another food comatose state before my next glorious meal!