Why do we look for water on Mars?

"And we have created from WATER every living thing. Will they not then believe?", Q 21:30


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Thursday, August 30, 2012

The Dessert Flower

It was in the early 90's again.

I was in the class room in form one. We were learning Arabic, suddenly one of my classmate rise his hand and ask the teacher.

"Is it true Zainab means cow shit?"

The teacher, an ustaz, is one of our school's most notorious and one of the discipline committee, of course. When he's around even the funniest becomes humorless.

How ever our friend here doesn't show any sign of joking, he gave a straight and query face confidently and convincingly.

The ustaz pause for a moment draging the whole class to a complete silence, his eye balls move up and down as if he's scanning our friend for any sign of fooling around.

After awhile, may be satisfied finding nor presence of joking element on our friend, he answered,

"No, who spoke such nonsense, Zainab is a good name meaning desert flower".

Everybody felt relief nobody got in trouble that day, and no body laugh at that incident even after class.

Four years later,

I was in our weekly school assembly, after singing the Negaraku and reciting the asma' ul husna, the same ustaz from four years ago got up on stage and give a speech.

I didn't recall  what he said because my mind suddenly goes back four years ago to form one in that same class, reminiscing to myself the Zainab incident.

suddenly i felt like laughing, and i laugh and laugh as if the incident is currently happening in front of my eyes again, ignoring what people might think of me laughing alone for no visual reason.

I laugh until there was tears coming out of my eyes, releasing the four years of humoric tension which I could not release at the moment the joke happened.

I dont know why that day, I met the ustaz almost everyday before. Ahh memory, btw don't make a habit of laughing alone.

Eid mubarak to Hizamme, Jo qusary and everybody.


Monday, August 13, 2012

HammmZAH! He sneezed

It was in the early 90's.

I was sent to learn the Quran by my parents to one of our learned man in the village, we call him Pak Hamzah. It is a custom at that time in every village for children to learn the Quran after school and khatam (finished reciting the whole Quran with good tajwid) before setting out to secondary school.

The school was his house, a traditional, Malay wooden house. We were to read at the hall, an opening where most modern house would sit the TV and sofa, but here is just an empty opening.

There were no monthly fee nor monetary obligation whatsoever. We bring our own Quran and rehal (a contraption to sit the Quran), as the Quran is holy and it is unethical to put It directly on the ground where people usually stepped on.

The T&L was easy, three hours, from two to three we recite on our own, new comer will learned from the senior and practice reciting in front of the senior, from three to five Pak Hamzah will appeared from the adjacent room and sit in front of the hall. Every body will observe silence as one by one of us recite in front of him, where he will correct our reciting if wrong.

However, this memoir is not about the Quran education, it is about one of many character I met when I was growing up that directly or indirectly influenced me.

Our class clown is a senior, firm yet funny, sometimes wacky, he's not very bright nor completely dull, I went two years late but able to pass him a few verses in advance.

One day he caught a flu and goes Hashim!(achoo) all day long.

Then the infamous crazy idea came out, "Why is it we have to spell out Hashim's name when we sneeze, why can't it be Hafiz or Hamzah or Hasnul? What is so special about Hashim that we have to mention him every time we sneeze?” complained him.

From now on I don't want to mention his name again." said he spitefully, as if he had some grunge with any Hashim guy.

Just at that moment he sneezes and spell out Hamzah name, "HammmmmmZAH!" followed by a burst of laughter from everybody.

What a coincident, Pak Hamzah our Quran teacher appeared at that very moment and everybody goes quite as quite as a fried mouse.

Pak Hamzah pause for a long while and gave our class clown a straight face. The senior look down at the floor.

Well nothing really happen after that, he didn't get in trouble.

Till this day, I always wonder if that sneeze that spell out Hamzah's name was real? or just he playing around.


Thursday, August 2, 2012

I don't want to give up my phone number, Mr Google

I have another blog which I’m very active at and have a high number of readers, approximately 100 readers per post. There's nothing illegal regarding the content, just topic people love to read so much these days.

For the past few years Google persistently attempt to get my phone number regarding to that blog by creating an extra door every time I log in.

At that time however there is an option where I can click away the annoying request. A small link like those asterisks on weight loss products.

Until last night, just after posting another controversial thread, I go about promoting the thread, and at one point I was logged out involuntarily.

When I tried to log back in, a warning appeared, asking me to verify my account.

We've detected unusual activity on your account. To immediately restore access to your account, choose how to verify your account. 

Then, asking (again) for my phone number. The only different this time there's no click away button.

When I tried to visit my blog thru the front door (by typing the address into the address bar) to my surprise, I got another shocking message.

Blog has been removed
Sorry, the blog at xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx has been removed. This address is not available for new blogs. 

Looks like Google have adopt an unethical marketing strategy of those tele-marketing usually does, calling and asking for personal info with a twist,

"Hi currently we're promoting a travel card to every master card user, just for verification purpose, can U stated again  (I never had) your credit card number?",   click! tut tut tut,"

Is there anybody out there experiencing or had experienced the same problem before, please share.

To Google please stop the irresponsible attempt of invasion of privacy, I had that enough when I was younger, and give me back my blog.

If this annoyance persist I might consider other platform.


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