(This was written when I was about 16 or 17 years old (maybe younger!). I was very into the series "The Professionals" and very into the Aztecs, the Mayans, the Egyptians - the ancient ones, mind you. Arya became a sort of an alter-ego : her life was more exciting than mine mundane, ordinary schoolgirl's. And, of course, Cadrez was the dream one. *hic* This is of course, absolutely juvenile stuff! What triggered this sharing? The current craze among you peeps to 'don' (pardon the pun) exotic names. Been there, gals! So, to Dayah Alfonso, Hannah Roberto and Syafiqah I-can't-pronounce-that-name, this one's for you gals! ) Don't laugh so hard as you're reading, okay? *hic*
Cadrez looked down at the silent, small huddled figure of a boy. Cervantez looked at him, almost teasingly. Cadrez knew. Cervantez, his boss, was taunting him, challenging him to finish the job. It was not something he was afraid to do, nor had never done before. It’s just…the boy looked so young and so…vulnerable. He couldn’t put a finger to it. The boy was perhaps merely twelve, with short, dark, straight hair that fell carelessly around the face and eyes…the boy looked up briefly at the towering Cadrez, the expression of fleeting fear. And Cadrez’s own dark, smoky eyes gave a start – the boy’s eyes were of the clearest blue he had ever seen, and amidst the dark setting of his hair and tanned complexion, seemed bluer and swimming with lights. For a moment, Cadrez was mesmerized.
“ Don’t let those eyes get you, Cadrez! He put up such a fight that Sandov here is just waiting to get even – that is, if you won’t do it….”
Cadrez gritted his teeth. Sandov..the brute! Cadrez was tall for his age, and his neck-long, swept-back hair made his boyish face looked more matured, yet, he winced at the thought of the huge-sized Sandov even touching the boy. He had once been at the receiving end of those metallic-hard knuckles, bleeding profusely from the face, ribs smashed and only Cervantez’s intervention had saved him. That was five years ago, when he was about this boy’s age – famished, homeless and almost dying . He had attempted to pick pocket Cervantez, not knowing that this tall, well-dressed guy is one of police most-wanted don of the underworld. Of course, Sandoz hauled him and proceeded to clean up his face. He would have died – another statistics for the vagabonds on the streets. Yes, that was five years ago. Cervantez had took him in; fed him, clothed him and most of all mentored him, trusted him and he is now only second to Sandov in the eyes of Cervantez…..
Cervantez sighed.
“Finished the job Sandov.”
“No! I can do it.”
Cervantez smiled and gestured to Sandov to back away. Cadrez stooped down and pulled up the boy roughly by his left arm. The boy tried to struggle, but Cadrez pinned the boy’s left arm to his back. Positioning himself behind the small back, he pushed the boy down to his knees. It was like pushing air. The poor boy went down easily, grunting in pain as his knees smashed on the hard floor. Cadrez pushed the boy faced down as well, so that the boy’s left cheek was kissing the cool stone. He didn’t want to see the boy’s eyes. The boy groaned again. Cadrez bent down and straddled the boy’s back, trying hard not to put his full weight on the small back. He didn’t want to break the boy’s spine. He bent down and as he did that, he managed to whisper fiercely in the boy’s right ears,
“Don’t fight, boy! I will make this as painless as I can – I promise!”
When the boy was still trying to struggle, he whispered, almost desperately,
“Please…trust me!”
The boy somehow stopped struggling, letting out a stifled groan from the pressure on his pulled arm. Cradling the boy’s left arm in position in his own arms, Cadrez twisted the arm in one clean, powerful jerk. The small arm broke neatly at the elbow. The boy did not even let out a scream, but Cadrez could feel the body shaking and the boy stifling his voice. Cadrez knew the pain was excruciating. He had done this many times before but this was the first time there were no screams. He let go of the mangled arm, almost in shock. The boy slumped to the floor, letting his face fall into the cradle of his right arm, hiding his eyes. He was groaning softly, his eyes closed tightly in pain. His breathing grew softer and became almost inaudible. He had fainted.
“Call Rosa and tell her to fix my nephew.”
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“Why didn’t you tell me that’s your nephew????”
Cadrez almost screamed. At 17, he still has the boyish impetuousness in him. Cervantez coolly sat on his favourite sofa, puffing at his favourite cigar. Cadrez looked angrily at the man who had sheltered him all these years. What kind of a man would hurt his own blood???
“ I know what’s in your head right now, Cadrez!! Jose is the son of my only brother, Ricardo. We were as close as two peas….but something happened that changed things….changed me…we’re no more blood. Jose’s blood is legal to me!”
“He’s still a boy!!! What if I had not been around and Sandov did this job – he would be finished!!!”
Cerventez stood up slowly from his seat and walked measuredly up to Cadrez, his hand rested on Cadrez’s young shoulders.
“That is why I took you in, son.”
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Cadrez peered hesitatingly into the bedroom. Through the cracks, he saw Rosa, white hair neatly bunned up, her right hand inside the boy’s black jacket, adjusting a sling bandage. The boy’s back was facing Cadrez, so he could not see the boy’s expression. Rosa then made him sat back at the bed, and only then could Cadrez saw the side of the tanned face. It was a finely chiseled face, with high cheek-bones – the boy’s face was strangely, well, beautiful. Cadrez felt confusion for a while. What was he thinking???
Rosa looked up and saw him at the doorway. She beckoned angrily to Cadrez to step into the room. Cadrez hesitated – he knew better than not to accede to Rosa’s demands. Her temper was legendary. She was the only person in the household who could get angry at Cervantez without his boss pulling a gun at her forehead. He stepped gingerly, his tall frame guiltily filled the room. Her eyes looked fiercely up at him.
“Er….how is he???” Cadrez countered.
Rosa’s angry expression turned into one of pure outrage. She stood up and fiercely whispered,
“What do you mean, Cadrezo?”
“How’s the boy’s arm?”
Rosa unexpectedly let loose some Spanish expletives.
“Poveritas!!! The boy whose arm you had cruelly broke is a girl you dumb boy!!!”
As if on cue, the ‘boy’ opened up his eyes – blue eyes and dark eyes met for a while, it was the dark eyes that looked away first. Cadrez clearly saw the pain and – anger in those eyes.
“ I ….I am sorry…I truly…did not know…Oh my God!! Cervantez doesn’t know himself! He thought he had a nephew!!!”
“Fooled both of you…didn’t I….” the girl said quietly, her voice came in a soft whisper, punctuated by pauses..she was in pain, Cadrez knew it. She was looking at the wall. Then she turned to look at him and her eyes were fierce, though.
“If you tell Cervantez - I will kill you!”
“With a broken arm – I doubt so!” shot back Cadrez, challengingly.
Cadrez avoided the eyes that was boring into him. THOSE eyes can kill him….However, he had no doubts that her father would finish the job. He looked up.
“What’s your name….your real name…?”
“Does it matter to you?”
“I normally like to know the names of all those people whose arms got twisted by me! I’m the sadistic type!”
Cadrez stared and saw the girl smiling softly. God! She was beautiful.
“Arya. Arya Ricardo Gomez.”
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The two groups had gathered at the courtyard. The air was tense and terse. Cervantez looked coolly at the smartly-dressed guy standing opposite him. They were of about the same height, but the other guy was more slightly built. He has, however, the same curly hair that shone beautifully in the sun. They could have passed off as brothers.
“Ricardo. A pleasure to see you here. Welcome to my home. Mikasa, e sukasa.”
Ricardo grimaced.
“Where is my son?”
Cervantez still smiled. He motioned to one of his men. Cadrez looked ahead, but at the corner of his eyes, he saw Arya being led slowly into the courtyard. She looked paler than the day before and he watched, emotionless, at the bandaged right arm, which she wore in a sling. The big guy, Andre, pulled at Arya’s arm roughly and she winced. He, like the rest of them, must have thought that this boy was a trite too slow. Cadrez gritted his teeth at that thought.
Arya looked down as she reached her father. He whispered something in her left ear and she nodded. Her father pulled her gently to his back. His men reached out and surrounded Arya. She looked up and her blue eyes squarely hit Cadrez’s dark ones. Cervantez voice broke their stares.
“No hard feelings, right?”
Ricardo walked up to his brother.
“Why, Cervence, why? Look at that kid…look at those eyes!!! How could you have hurt him???”
Cadrez thought he sensed Cervantez relenting. Only for a fraction. Cervantez looked at Arya.
“Don’t open up old wounds, Ricky…it might backfire…”
“You took him away from me – for what?? Just to bring him back to me broken??? He is still your blood!”
“Like hell he is!!! When you took HER away from me, did you think of me, your blood – BROTHER??? Maybe I should take him again – permanently!!!”
Suddenly, Andre, as if by cue, signaled with his hands and almost instantaneously, a group of men surrounded Ricardo’s entourage. Ricardo wasn’t the only one caught by surprise. Cadrez was too.
“Take the boy Cadrezo!!!”
Without thinking, Cadrez ran towards Arya, who was already being shielded by Ricardo’s men. Shots were heard and almost everyone ducked, including Cervantez. Everybody was looking at each other, surprised. A voice, apparently from a loudhailer was heard distinctly,
“This is the police!! We have you covered!! Surrender now!!”
All hell broke loose. Shots ricocheted against the wall. Ricardo turned towards Arya and a stray bullet caught him squarely in the chest. The impact sent him backwards. He dropped to his knees but Arya was already by his side. His men was already surrounding him, trying to drag him to safety. He was losing too much blood. He fell in his steps, gasping. Arya was crying.
“Papa, get up!!! Papa!!!”
Cervantez, who had ran towards the inside of his house, saw his brother lay on the courtyard, his jacket bloodied, his face pale. He stopped, paused, swore, then make his way to his fallen brother.
“Come, bro…”
Ricardo was looking paler.
“Brother…I ….think…I cannot make it….please…my son…has nobody else….look after her for me…Arya….”
Cervantez frowned, looked at Ricardo, then at Arya, still not comprehending. Andre panted by Cervantez’s side.
“We have to go…to the basement - NOW! Now, Mr Cervantez!!!”
Arya was still kneeling over her dying father when Cadrez caught her, for the second time, roughly by the unhurt arm and just pulled her away. Cervantez was still trying to pull up Ricardo, but his brother looked at him with faraway, glassy eyes.
“…I…am..sorry….Marina…had …..a….daughter….don’t hurt her….you have…a good….soul…brother…”
And then, he just passed away, amidst the compounding sounds of bullets firing at each other aimlessly. The courtyard’s main door burst open. The last sight the police troops saw was a the shadow of a tall, long-haired figure firing at them as he disappeared into a hallway.
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Arya felt lonely, even though she was seated in between Cadrez and Andre. The black saloon cruised smoothly into the night sky, having left Cervantez’ mansion in a most unelegant way. Cervantez sat in the front passenger seat. She could only replay the scene of her father laying down in his own pool of blood – unable to help him. What had happened? Who had tipped the police? what was going to happen to her now?Where was her father’s men? Were they captured? Where was the man she called Uncle Domingo, an elderly, white haired man, trusted by her father? Too many questions, too few answers…without realizing it, a hot tear escaped her eyes and she quickly wiped it away with the back of her good hand.
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Arya must have dozed off, for she suddenly woked up, startled. She realized, rather embarrashedly, that she had fallen asleep while leaning against Cadrez’s shoulders. The saloon had braked very suddenly and very hard. Her eyes grew wider as she heard curses.
“Down! Stay Down! Put your head down!!!!”
Cadrez was shouting desperately at her, shoving her head down to the floor of the car. Instinctively, Arya covered her head and felt both Cadrez and Andre flying out of the car. Even Cervantez was no more in the car. Her heart froze as again shots boomed past her and the car and she heard somebody cursing in pain. Suddenly, she felt a hard hand tugging at her slinged arm and she just shouted out of pain. It was Cervantes. His arm curled heartlessly around her small frame, and the cold, hard nuzzle of an auto slammed at the side of her head. When he spoke, his voice was hard and low.
“ I will let her go only if you allow me and my men to leave – unharmed!”
Out of the darkness, Arya could make the silhouette of an elderly man, silver hair shining in the darkness of the night. Domingo! She wanted to run, but Cervantez’s hold was strong and unrelentless. Only then did she noticed Cadrez on Cervantez’ right, a dark, widening patch flowering on his right shoulder. He had been shot. Only then too did she noticed two, silent figure by the roadside. The driver and Andre. Cervantez must be a crazed man, by now. Uncle Domingo’s voice was slow and deliberate:
“You are outnumbered, Senor Cervantez….give her up and maybe we can discuss things!”
“Like hell you will!”
And suddenly, truly like a crazed man, Cervantez pointed his auto and it went off, hitting Arya squarely on her right thigh. She was too stunned to react and could only see herself, in slow-motion, staring at the flowering red patch. She would have crumpled to the ground had not Cervantez effortlessly propped her up. She suddenly felt dizzy. Why was Cadrez staring at her, his face still an unreadable mask.She wasn’t hurt badly right?! She also saw Uncle Domingo putting up his right arm quickly, cursing, signaling his men to bring down their guns.
“Okay! You have my word!”
Cervantez practically flung Arya into the car, motioned to Cadrez to sit behind too, then went behind the wheels of the black saloon, shouting:
“ Any wise moves – and she dies!!!”
Cervantez drove away even worst than a mad man. The car sped along the highway, Domingo’s men closely behind. When the distance was getting shorter, he shouted to Cadrez:
“Thr0w her!”
‘Are you mad?! She’ll be run over!”
With one arm at the wheel, Cervantez brought over his other arm towards Arya’s temple. The gun was still cold and menacing.
“If you don’t, I’ll rather she die with me!!!”
Arya could have struggled against Cadrez, but she didn’t want to. She couldn’t feel her bandaged arm, nor her right leg anymore. In fact, she felt a little airy head, rather like a floating feeling. It had not dawned on her that she was losing precious life blood. Her jeans were soaked with her own blood.
“At least stop, Cervantez!! Please!!!”
Perhaps it was Cadrez’s tone, or the pale face of Arya as he glanced at her from the back mirror – Cervantez slammed his brakes against the pavement and Cadrez, almost gently, pushed Arya into the pavement. As soon as she hit the cold stone, Cervantez sped off.
Arya, on her part, was thankful for being able to lie down. Her blue, clear eyes felt the throbbing of her arm, her legs, her heart, her life…Her head felt heavier, her breathing raspy and difficult. Slowly, the blue eyes dimmed and she closed her eyes, catching the glaring lights of Domingo’s car before she thankfully lost consciousness.
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Sunday, September 5, 2010
Battle for Bukit Chandu - S2 National DAy 2010 Performance
This entry is for 6th August 2010 - National Day Celebration at Irsyad.
On hindsight, it was pure madness.
Pure madness to have agreed to stage two shows (one at the void-deck, the second at the Auditorium) with just one week left for practice.
Pure madness to think that I could control and direct 71 S2 pupils to stage a dramatization of the sacrifice made by the Malay Regiment in their defense of Bukit Chandu on 14.2.1945.
If I had been a thinking, logical and normal adult, I would have immediately seen the impossibility of such an undertaking.
But, hei, I have never always been a logical, thinking and normal adult. :P
Actual day and date of performance: Friday, 6th August 2010.
Monday : 2nd August 2010 (4 days to performing)
Fever since Sunday has not abetted.
Feeling hot and uncomfortable and faintish.
Felt rather foolish too, because on Saturday, during the girls' IMG finals, I was cheering and doing duty with the energy of a 17-year old schoolgirl.
Today felt like I was fifty going on seventy.
Reluctantly did not report to school, wondering whether the script was ready - or not.
Saw the doctor and given MC for the day.
Nina felt warm but I prayed she would not catch my fever.
Tuesday: 3rd August 2010 (3 days to performing)
Went to school feeling like a diver and being underwater - ears blocked due to the phlegm and fever.
My voice sounded far away.
Worst, Nina was having fever too.
Farhana soothed my feverish soul that the script was ready and that they actually took the initiative to have a practice the day before.
Fitriana, in her comforting voice, advised me that Adli would be perfect for the part. He gave a stirling performance during practice.
She explained about the villagers' part. Was awed because she and Farhanah actually had a good storyline. Well-done!
Decided to heed these lady directors' advice.
Now comes the rehearsal - when? how?
Answer : Be a beggar - I begged for periods from asatizahs teaching both classes.
The asatizahs did not want to part with their periods. It's the week before CA2 and all of us are frantically doing final revision.
Looks like I wasn't the only frantic and desperate teacher around!
Yes, Adli was just truly, well, Lt. Adnan. He had this Malayness aura about him - he somehow became The LEADER and The Malay Regiment as he went through his lines, if you know what I mean. Syafiq had this classic Malay looks and was a close second choice but he graciously volunteered to be Adli's assistant. Huzaifah was the undisputed choice to be Yamashita - he looked like one and became one.
Those not involved in the acting helped in the props - shoe boxes wrapped in brown paper, glued together became sandbags. Creative! Costume people discussed what the Japanese and Malay soldiers should wear.
"Stop playing with your props!" - I sounded like a broken down record -my constant reminders to the boys - what do you expect when boys are given toy guns and machine guns to hold???? Yup. They became six year olds again...
Void deck became a parade ground. The Japanese boys tried their best to march - alhamdulillah, Mr Ismam was a God-send, he passed us at the opportune moment and became our impromptu Parade Commander.
Still feverish and ears felt like blocked.
Too weak to go back to JB. Slept at mother's. Nina brought to the doctor. I asked for Child MC, just in case.
Wednesday, 4th August 2010 (2 days to performing)
Today is the 'full-dress' rehearsal for the primary performance!
Had only one day of practice at the void-deck the day before.
Felt ashamed to ask for more periods from the teachers, so S2A and S2B did separate practice when I met them.
The void-deck 'full-dress' rehearsal was a COMPLETE DISASTER!
Pandemonium everywhere, noise, shoutings - soldiers running and rampaging and villagers screaming!
Farhana was so stressed, she refused to look at the rehearsal.
Found her playing the congkak ALONE..she looked up at me then stated simply - "I know, chaotic right????"
Bulls-eye.
But managed to remain focus and very task oriented.
Adli was a much 'abused' actor - the Japs really manhandled him. At the end of the rehearsal, his watch fell apart - the screw fell off, perhaps from the scuffle and such.
Huzaifah was just so brilliant as Yamashita. He spoke his lines in Japanese, but I thought that did not have much impact so advised him to use English instead. HE IMMEDIATELY SWITCHED TO ENGLISH WITHOUT BATTING AN EYELID, doing his own translation! He was that brilliant!
Decided that the play needed narration - Izzah and Huda became the narrators. They had ONE day to complete their script.
Could not stay back too long after school because the boys, including Adli had IMG athletics training - IMG training!! These kids sure are a talented lot...
Nina fever was way, way too high. Brought her to the JB doctor. Again, took Child MC from the doctor, just in case.
Thursday, 5th August 2010 (1 day before performing)
Another full dress rehearsal, this time at the void-deck, plus the Auditorium.
I made a script for two speaking parts - 'Daud' and 'Rahman' in a scene that would tie up the Japanese attack on Bukit Chandu with the Pasir Panjang villages.
Again, it was Fitriana who advised - she said Quddus and Darwis would be perfect for the part.
Again, she was right.
Izza were so zouked by the script I gave her as a narrator, she cried. I let her.
Huda was calmer, read the script, said it was alright with her.
I had to calmed Izza first, compromised with her, for she and Huda too had written their own script. So I let them merged mine and theirs.
Before the rehearsal, I went through with them VISUALLY, step by step, of the running of the play.
Rehearsal at void-deck was better, much better.
But the noise remained the same - I was very much strained and drained. Fever gone, but felt weak. Must go on for the show must go on too...
Rehearsal at the Auditorium:
-First time, everybody was on stage. Some boy remarked - "meriahnya - macam hari raya!". I agreed.
-Had to make the crucial decision - only the three leading ladiers and the two boys will be on stage. The villagers will have to be on the floor, below the stage. Should see the unhappy faces of the villagers, who were eager to be on stage too.
I apologised. My decision stayed.
It was a good decision. The stage was emptier, thus attention of audience more focused.
The rehearsal went very well after this.
(Darwis' father was pretty mad for he had been waiting for more than an hour to fetch his son back. Mother called and said Nina was not eating and still feverish - that made me down, for I was afraid I could not come on Friday).
At the end of the last rehearsal, it was soooo good, that I clapped for this dedicated lot who stayed quite late. We took photographs.
(I later found out that quite a number was scolded by their parents - Fyqa, Basheerah and Fatin, Muya too, Quraish as well and Darwis? Saw him looking forlornly at the mosque's gate - his father had left him...)
Me? I couldn't sleep the whole night - whenever I closed my eyes, a different scene from the play replayed...some scenes were even non-existent but still played in my mind...I know now how the late MJ must have felt, having sleepless nights before his performances)
Friday, 6th August 2010 - D-DAY.
We used the library as the girls' assembly area, and MPR 3 became the boys' changing room.
When we all met at the MPR3, the celebration had already started below.
I gave pep talks, separately for the Malay Regiment and the Japanese soldiers.
I said they are making history today. And they did.
I could hear Farid already leading the school in pledge taking and I didn't want these kids to miss that. I asked Adli whether he could lead the pledge. He said 'yes'. So there we were, all 71 kids plus teacher, taking our national pledge on National Day at that MPR. Adli said it perfectly. No mistakes.
While waiting for our turn at the void deck, I called Adli 'Adnan' and Huzaifah, 'Yamashita'. They responded well.
The rest, as they said it, was just history.
You may want to watch the video of the stage production on YouTube, at IrsyadChannel. Or just type Lt. Adnan or Battle for Bukit Chandu.
Aftermath:
Both S2 classes said that the experience has bonded both classes together, especially the girls. I didn't know that before this, there was a kind of unstated rivalry between them. Alhamdulillah, they now think as one entity. :)
I could have sworn that Adli is taller now and has somehow matured - there is a confidence in his stride and in the way his shoulders looked.
Huzaifah and me has become somewhat less of the 'repelling' poles of a magnet.
Amir looked to be more interested in English.
I saw a side of Quddus which I never noticed before.
Darwis and Syafiq, first known as the Aljunied boys, have developed their own personalities. They are very different from each other.
The quieter boys - especially the twins and Mus'ab also showed more confidence.
Me and the girls have become me and the girls - now it's much more difficult to scold them... :)
All said and done, it was a crazy adventure that ended well - Alhamdulillah!
(All I wanted then, was my pillow and some well-deserved sleep....)
On hindsight, it was pure madness.
Pure madness to have agreed to stage two shows (one at the void-deck, the second at the Auditorium) with just one week left for practice.
Pure madness to think that I could control and direct 71 S2 pupils to stage a dramatization of the sacrifice made by the Malay Regiment in their defense of Bukit Chandu on 14.2.1945.
If I had been a thinking, logical and normal adult, I would have immediately seen the impossibility of such an undertaking.
But, hei, I have never always been a logical, thinking and normal adult. :P
Actual day and date of performance: Friday, 6th August 2010.
Monday : 2nd August 2010 (4 days to performing)
Fever since Sunday has not abetted.
Feeling hot and uncomfortable and faintish.
Felt rather foolish too, because on Saturday, during the girls' IMG finals, I was cheering and doing duty with the energy of a 17-year old schoolgirl.
Today felt like I was fifty going on seventy.
Reluctantly did not report to school, wondering whether the script was ready - or not.
Saw the doctor and given MC for the day.
Nina felt warm but I prayed she would not catch my fever.
Tuesday: 3rd August 2010 (3 days to performing)
Went to school feeling like a diver and being underwater - ears blocked due to the phlegm and fever.
My voice sounded far away.
Worst, Nina was having fever too.
Farhana soothed my feverish soul that the script was ready and that they actually took the initiative to have a practice the day before.
Fitriana, in her comforting voice, advised me that Adli would be perfect for the part. He gave a stirling performance during practice.
She explained about the villagers' part. Was awed because she and Farhanah actually had a good storyline. Well-done!
Decided to heed these lady directors' advice.
Now comes the rehearsal - when? how?
Answer : Be a beggar - I begged for periods from asatizahs teaching both classes.
The asatizahs did not want to part with their periods. It's the week before CA2 and all of us are frantically doing final revision.
Looks like I wasn't the only frantic and desperate teacher around!
Yes, Adli was just truly, well, Lt. Adnan. He had this Malayness aura about him - he somehow became The LEADER and The Malay Regiment as he went through his lines, if you know what I mean. Syafiq had this classic Malay looks and was a close second choice but he graciously volunteered to be Adli's assistant. Huzaifah was the undisputed choice to be Yamashita - he looked like one and became one.
Those not involved in the acting helped in the props - shoe boxes wrapped in brown paper, glued together became sandbags. Creative! Costume people discussed what the Japanese and Malay soldiers should wear.
"Stop playing with your props!" - I sounded like a broken down record -my constant reminders to the boys - what do you expect when boys are given toy guns and machine guns to hold???? Yup. They became six year olds again...
Void deck became a parade ground. The Japanese boys tried their best to march - alhamdulillah, Mr Ismam was a God-send, he passed us at the opportune moment and became our impromptu Parade Commander.
Still feverish and ears felt like blocked.
Too weak to go back to JB. Slept at mother's. Nina brought to the doctor. I asked for Child MC, just in case.
Wednesday, 4th August 2010 (2 days to performing)
Today is the 'full-dress' rehearsal for the primary performance!
Had only one day of practice at the void-deck the day before.
Felt ashamed to ask for more periods from the teachers, so S2A and S2B did separate practice when I met them.
The void-deck 'full-dress' rehearsal was a COMPLETE DISASTER!
Pandemonium everywhere, noise, shoutings - soldiers running and rampaging and villagers screaming!
Farhana was so stressed, she refused to look at the rehearsal.
Found her playing the congkak ALONE..she looked up at me then stated simply - "I know, chaotic right????"
Bulls-eye.
But managed to remain focus and very task oriented.
Adli was a much 'abused' actor - the Japs really manhandled him. At the end of the rehearsal, his watch fell apart - the screw fell off, perhaps from the scuffle and such.
Huzaifah was just so brilliant as Yamashita. He spoke his lines in Japanese, but I thought that did not have much impact so advised him to use English instead. HE IMMEDIATELY SWITCHED TO ENGLISH WITHOUT BATTING AN EYELID, doing his own translation! He was that brilliant!
Decided that the play needed narration - Izzah and Huda became the narrators. They had ONE day to complete their script.
Could not stay back too long after school because the boys, including Adli had IMG athletics training - IMG training!! These kids sure are a talented lot...
Nina fever was way, way too high. Brought her to the JB doctor. Again, took Child MC from the doctor, just in case.
Thursday, 5th August 2010 (1 day before performing)
Another full dress rehearsal, this time at the void-deck, plus the Auditorium.
I made a script for two speaking parts - 'Daud' and 'Rahman' in a scene that would tie up the Japanese attack on Bukit Chandu with the Pasir Panjang villages.
Again, it was Fitriana who advised - she said Quddus and Darwis would be perfect for the part.
Again, she was right.
Izza were so zouked by the script I gave her as a narrator, she cried. I let her.
Huda was calmer, read the script, said it was alright with her.
I had to calmed Izza first, compromised with her, for she and Huda too had written their own script. So I let them merged mine and theirs.
Before the rehearsal, I went through with them VISUALLY, step by step, of the running of the play.
Rehearsal at void-deck was better, much better.
But the noise remained the same - I was very much strained and drained. Fever gone, but felt weak. Must go on for the show must go on too...
Rehearsal at the Auditorium:
-First time, everybody was on stage. Some boy remarked - "meriahnya - macam hari raya!". I agreed.
-Had to make the crucial decision - only the three leading ladiers and the two boys will be on stage. The villagers will have to be on the floor, below the stage. Should see the unhappy faces of the villagers, who were eager to be on stage too.
I apologised. My decision stayed.
It was a good decision. The stage was emptier, thus attention of audience more focused.
The rehearsal went very well after this.
(Darwis' father was pretty mad for he had been waiting for more than an hour to fetch his son back. Mother called and said Nina was not eating and still feverish - that made me down, for I was afraid I could not come on Friday).
At the end of the last rehearsal, it was soooo good, that I clapped for this dedicated lot who stayed quite late. We took photographs.
(I later found out that quite a number was scolded by their parents - Fyqa, Basheerah and Fatin, Muya too, Quraish as well and Darwis? Saw him looking forlornly at the mosque's gate - his father had left him...)
Me? I couldn't sleep the whole night - whenever I closed my eyes, a different scene from the play replayed...some scenes were even non-existent but still played in my mind...I know now how the late MJ must have felt, having sleepless nights before his performances)
Friday, 6th August 2010 - D-DAY.
We used the library as the girls' assembly area, and MPR 3 became the boys' changing room.
When we all met at the MPR3, the celebration had already started below.
I gave pep talks, separately for the Malay Regiment and the Japanese soldiers.
I said they are making history today. And they did.
I could hear Farid already leading the school in pledge taking and I didn't want these kids to miss that. I asked Adli whether he could lead the pledge. He said 'yes'. So there we were, all 71 kids plus teacher, taking our national pledge on National Day at that MPR. Adli said it perfectly. No mistakes.
While waiting for our turn at the void deck, I called Adli 'Adnan' and Huzaifah, 'Yamashita'. They responded well.
The rest, as they said it, was just history.
You may want to watch the video of the stage production on YouTube, at IrsyadChannel. Or just type Lt. Adnan or Battle for Bukit Chandu.
Aftermath:
Both S2 classes said that the experience has bonded both classes together, especially the girls. I didn't know that before this, there was a kind of unstated rivalry between them. Alhamdulillah, they now think as one entity. :)
I could have sworn that Adli is taller now and has somehow matured - there is a confidence in his stride and in the way his shoulders looked.
Huzaifah and me has become somewhat less of the 'repelling' poles of a magnet.
Amir looked to be more interested in English.
I saw a side of Quddus which I never noticed before.
Darwis and Syafiq, first known as the Aljunied boys, have developed their own personalities. They are very different from each other.
The quieter boys - especially the twins and Mus'ab also showed more confidence.
Me and the girls have become me and the girls - now it's much more difficult to scold them... :)
All said and done, it was a crazy adventure that ended well - Alhamdulillah!
(All I wanted then, was my pillow and some well-deserved sleep....)
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Perhiasan seorang Muslimah
(Ketika mencari bahan untuk dikongsi dengan kelas, terjumpa artikel berikut. Sangat terkesan dalam diri, maka ingin saya berkongsi. Link artikel ini ialah: http://malayonline.net/v3/showthread.php?t=1816)
Wanita Islam Adalah Suci Dan Bermaruah, Penuh Hormat Dan Rendah Diri. Oleh Itu Wanita Islam Hendaklah Mempunyai Gaya Tersendiri. Antara Tatatertib Dalam Islam Yang Sebenar Yang Dituntut Terhadap Wanita Islam Adalah Seperti Berikut:
1) Menunduk Pandangan: Sesungguhnya Semulia- Mulia Perhiasan Wanita Ialah Kesucian Dengan Menundukkan Pandangannya
Seperti Firman Allah Yang Bermaksud: Katalah Kepada Wanita Yang Beriman, Hendaklah Menunduk Pandangannya. (Al- Nur:31)
2) Jangan Bergaul Bebas Dengan Lelaki Sehingga Anggota Mereka Bersentuh Atau Lelaki Menyentuh Wanita Seperti Yang Biasa Berlaku Kini Dalam Pawagam, Bilik Kuliah Di Universiti, Audiorium, Dalam Bas Dan Seumpamanya.
Sabda Rasulullah S.A.W Bermaksud: Adalah Lebih Baik Bagi Salah Seorang Daripada Kamu Diketuk Dengan Tukul Besi Yang Tajam Di Kepala Daripada Menyentuh Wanita Yang Haram Bagi Kamu Menyentuhnya.
3) Pakaian yang Dipakai Oleh Wanita Hendaklah Selaras Dengan Apa Yang Telah Ditetapkan Oleh Hukum Syara’. Sabda Rasulullah S.A.W Bermaksud:
Antara Penghuni-penghuni Neraka Ialah Wanita Yang Memakai Baju Tetapi Masih Telanjang, Menggoda Dan Digodai. Mereka Tidak Akan Masuk Syurga Malah Bau Syurga Pun Tidak Akan Sampai Kepada Mereka.
4) Wanita Islam Berjalan Dan Bercakap Dengan Penuh Hormat, Sopan Dan Tegas, Mengelak Diri Daripada Menunjukkan Wajahnya Seperti Seorang Penggoda. Bergurau Senda Dan Telatah Menggoda Adalah Perangai Wanita Yang Rosak Moralnya. Sifat Ini Tidak Layak Dimiliki Oleh Wanita Islam.
Firman Allah Taala: Janganlah Kamu Berkata- Kata Dengan Lembut Manja (Semasa Bercakap Denagn Lelaki Asing) Kerana Demikian Boleh Menimbulkan Keinginan Orang Yang Ada Penyakit Dalam Hati (Menaruh Tujuan Buruk Pada Kamu)………” (Al- Ahzab:32)
5) Wanita Islam Itu Tidak Menarik Perhatian Lelaki Dengan Perhiasannya Tersorok, Memakai Bau- Bauan, Menggoyang Atau Memainkan Perhiasannya Atau Perbuatan Seumpamanya. Firman Allah Bermaksud: "Dan Janganlah Menghentak Kaki Mereka Agar Diketahui Perhiasan Yang Mereka Sembunyikan" (An-Nur:31)
Cantik, Jelita Dan Cerdiknya Wanita Islam Apabila Ia Berada Di Luar Rumah Mereka Berpakaian Menutup Aurat, Menjaga Batas Pergaulan, Berpengetahuan, Berakhlak Mulia Dan Seumpamanya. Sesungguhnya Perintah Berpakaian Menutup Aurat Adalah Untuk Menyedarkan Wanita Islam Bahawa Mereka Adalah Wanita yang beriman.
Anda ingin lebih cantik dan menarik ???
* Jadikanlah Ghadhdul Bashar (menundukkan pandangan) sebagai "hiasan mata" anda, nescaya akan semakin bening dan jernih.
* Oleskan "lipstik kejujuran" pada bibir anda, nescaya akan semakin manis.
* Gunakanlah "pemerah pipi" anda dengan kosmetik yang terbuat dari rasa malu yang dibuat dari salon Iman.
* Pakailah "sabun Istighfar" yang menghilangkan semua dosa dan kesalahan yang anda lakukan.
* Rawatlah rambut anda dengan "Selendang Islami" yang akan menghilangkan kelemumur pandangan lelaki yang merbahayakan.
* Hiasilah kedua tangan anda dengan gelang Tawadhu' dan jari-jari anda dengan cincin Ukhuwwah.
* Sebaik-baiknya kalung anda adalah kalung "kesucian".
* Bedakilah wajah anda dengan "air Wudhu" nescaya akan bercahaya di akhirat.
Memang tiada siapa yg tidak mahu menjadi cantik. Setiap orang juga pasti kelihatan cantik jika mereka mempunyai kualiti '7M'.
* Musyarakah - yakin bahawa dirinya memang mempunyai kecantikan tersendiri.
* Murakabah - menerima dengan insaf dan syukur keadaan diri sendiri.
* Muhasabah - sentiasa melihat kekurangan diri dan memperbetulkannya.
* Muakobah - sentiasa mendidik diri agar berusaha menjadi wanita sempurna.
* Muqarrabah - sentiasa mendekatkan diri dengan Allah SWT.
* Mujahadah - berusaha melawan segala bentuk hawa nafsu yang cuba menguasai diri.
* Muarabah - cuba menghakis segala kejahatan yang ada dalam diri.
Wanita Islam Adalah Suci Dan Bermaruah, Penuh Hormat Dan Rendah Diri. Oleh Itu Wanita Islam Hendaklah Mempunyai Gaya Tersendiri. Antara Tatatertib Dalam Islam Yang Sebenar Yang Dituntut Terhadap Wanita Islam Adalah Seperti Berikut:
1) Menunduk Pandangan: Sesungguhnya Semulia- Mulia Perhiasan Wanita Ialah Kesucian Dengan Menundukkan Pandangannya
Seperti Firman Allah Yang Bermaksud: Katalah Kepada Wanita Yang Beriman, Hendaklah Menunduk Pandangannya. (Al- Nur:31)
2) Jangan Bergaul Bebas Dengan Lelaki Sehingga Anggota Mereka Bersentuh Atau Lelaki Menyentuh Wanita Seperti Yang Biasa Berlaku Kini Dalam Pawagam, Bilik Kuliah Di Universiti, Audiorium, Dalam Bas Dan Seumpamanya.
Sabda Rasulullah S.A.W Bermaksud: Adalah Lebih Baik Bagi Salah Seorang Daripada Kamu Diketuk Dengan Tukul Besi Yang Tajam Di Kepala Daripada Menyentuh Wanita Yang Haram Bagi Kamu Menyentuhnya.
3) Pakaian yang Dipakai Oleh Wanita Hendaklah Selaras Dengan Apa Yang Telah Ditetapkan Oleh Hukum Syara’. Sabda Rasulullah S.A.W Bermaksud:
Antara Penghuni-penghuni Neraka Ialah Wanita Yang Memakai Baju Tetapi Masih Telanjang, Menggoda Dan Digodai. Mereka Tidak Akan Masuk Syurga Malah Bau Syurga Pun Tidak Akan Sampai Kepada Mereka.
4) Wanita Islam Berjalan Dan Bercakap Dengan Penuh Hormat, Sopan Dan Tegas, Mengelak Diri Daripada Menunjukkan Wajahnya Seperti Seorang Penggoda. Bergurau Senda Dan Telatah Menggoda Adalah Perangai Wanita Yang Rosak Moralnya. Sifat Ini Tidak Layak Dimiliki Oleh Wanita Islam.
Firman Allah Taala: Janganlah Kamu Berkata- Kata Dengan Lembut Manja (Semasa Bercakap Denagn Lelaki Asing) Kerana Demikian Boleh Menimbulkan Keinginan Orang Yang Ada Penyakit Dalam Hati (Menaruh Tujuan Buruk Pada Kamu)………” (Al- Ahzab:32)
5) Wanita Islam Itu Tidak Menarik Perhatian Lelaki Dengan Perhiasannya Tersorok, Memakai Bau- Bauan, Menggoyang Atau Memainkan Perhiasannya Atau Perbuatan Seumpamanya. Firman Allah Bermaksud: "Dan Janganlah Menghentak Kaki Mereka Agar Diketahui Perhiasan Yang Mereka Sembunyikan" (An-Nur:31)
Cantik, Jelita Dan Cerdiknya Wanita Islam Apabila Ia Berada Di Luar Rumah Mereka Berpakaian Menutup Aurat, Menjaga Batas Pergaulan, Berpengetahuan, Berakhlak Mulia Dan Seumpamanya. Sesungguhnya Perintah Berpakaian Menutup Aurat Adalah Untuk Menyedarkan Wanita Islam Bahawa Mereka Adalah Wanita yang beriman.
Anda ingin lebih cantik dan menarik ???
* Jadikanlah Ghadhdul Bashar (menundukkan pandangan) sebagai "hiasan mata" anda, nescaya akan semakin bening dan jernih.
* Oleskan "lipstik kejujuran" pada bibir anda, nescaya akan semakin manis.
* Gunakanlah "pemerah pipi" anda dengan kosmetik yang terbuat dari rasa malu yang dibuat dari salon Iman.
* Pakailah "sabun Istighfar" yang menghilangkan semua dosa dan kesalahan yang anda lakukan.
* Rawatlah rambut anda dengan "Selendang Islami" yang akan menghilangkan kelemumur pandangan lelaki yang merbahayakan.
* Hiasilah kedua tangan anda dengan gelang Tawadhu' dan jari-jari anda dengan cincin Ukhuwwah.
* Sebaik-baiknya kalung anda adalah kalung "kesucian".
* Bedakilah wajah anda dengan "air Wudhu" nescaya akan bercahaya di akhirat.
Memang tiada siapa yg tidak mahu menjadi cantik. Setiap orang juga pasti kelihatan cantik jika mereka mempunyai kualiti '7M'.
* Musyarakah - yakin bahawa dirinya memang mempunyai kecantikan tersendiri.
* Murakabah - menerima dengan insaf dan syukur keadaan diri sendiri.
* Muhasabah - sentiasa melihat kekurangan diri dan memperbetulkannya.
* Muakobah - sentiasa mendidik diri agar berusaha menjadi wanita sempurna.
* Muqarrabah - sentiasa mendekatkan diri dengan Allah SWT.
* Mujahadah - berusaha melawan segala bentuk hawa nafsu yang cuba menguasai diri.
* Muarabah - cuba menghakis segala kejahatan yang ada dalam diri.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
I WANT to remember...
24th July 2010
I have a photo of you people just by my desk, pinned on to an orangey red soft board. It’s the picture we took on the roof top. The goofy picture – where everybody’s smiling and clowning around. I certainly looked out of place, being FT to neither class, only teaching English, but being invited up on the roof all the same. How candid that picture was, with Ismail trying very hard to avoid Sufian’s outstretched fingers. Irshad in a pose so unlike him, and Syera being as cheeky as usual in her signature pose then…And it aches –oh! How it aches to see those smiles, those faces! Only God knows how it aches so…. I don't know why you people are always in my mind - maybe it's because in your innocence, I saw your strength; in your strength, I saw my own weaknesses and in your weaknesses, I saw a way to be stronger, alhamdulillah. In giving and teaching you people, I think I have received more and learned more than you did. And this, truly, is an under statement...In all of you I see my life for the past nine years in and OUT of Irsyad - the good and the bad times; some memories are not for me to share with you here, for you're all still too young for that. If it is not too much to say - knowing you people have made me closer to Allah, have made me see myself as who I really am - and I am ashamed at that revelation, humbled by that knowledge - if only you knew, but I pray you will never know.
Okay, okay.. I am emo-ing right now... :)
But as I wrote on the KFA nominees, writing and remembering, superimposing those memories with what recently happened in school, I felt a sense of dread; the realisation that people change. Everybody changes - for better or worse. And that's when I think I want to write on the rest of the S509 – as I remember them. Please do not misconstrue that I love any of my other students less. Only that, I think I know them MORE than my present students, having taught this lot and knowing them since they were in Primary 4. Afwan too if these observations are not accurate; if they seemed superficial, if there is a smirk somewhere in the readers who thought "She is wrong..." :) Humour me for these are written wholly from the perpective of someone who have been with these people since they were mere 10 year olds then. Pardon me too , if I write on how you behave, how your eyes look for these are things I remember, especially eyes and smiles. Some people remember other parts of the anatomy, but for me, eyes never lie and smiles never fail to brighten anyone's day, no matter how purile or fake they were put on for in the first place. I want to remember you people as you were at that point of time before maturity and experience changes everything. Everything...
These are written in absolutely random order. So, here goes:
1. Meera Monday : the daughter I never had enough time to spend with.I remember her faraway look- a look which is more mature than her years, a pain only God knows and it hurts me to see that look in those beautiful eyes. But Allah knows better how strong His servants are..and the laughter!! Never loud, but tingling and lovely to hear. I remember her conviction to be a better person, I remember the times when focused, she could move mountains and be what she was meant to be. She still is an unpolished gem.
2. Haykal : Flashes of anger in those curly-lashed black eyes and then the smile would come - totally sincere and those eyes would light up again. I remember his soothing, calm manner as he helped out to pacify his friends and of course, again, that brilliant smile! I remember the day I passed him the book - his face had been most distraught - stressed- perhaps. But then he smiled on receiving it - and it broke my heart to see such a smile, such happiness that it pained me too.. and i wished i could make him smile every single day...
3. Hannah : skinny as a bamboo stick. Still remember the bewildered look she would have when things get a little bit difficult to understand, the frown and knitted eyebrows. I remember the great pictures she took, the books she read - she was such a reader! Her favourite pose then was the 'pouting lips' and that always made me laugh! I used to look at photographs she posted in her blog and marvelled at their simplicity in content and in awe at the artistic angle the photos were taken.
4. Sufian : The Gentleman. A gentle soul with a soft heart - he would 'puncture' his sentences with a small laugh at the end. Teaching him art gave the opportunity to see his 'crazy' streak and his earnestness when doing his work - but he was always relaxed, like the world can go berserk for all he cares - that, never ruffled his kindly, calm disposition. I am sure he has been angry before, but have never personally seen him being angry once.
(Okay, have to stop here first - overspilling of memories in this old brain of mind...hope Allah will grant me the stamina to complete the whole lot..insyaAllah!)
Doa rabitah buat anak-anak S509...
I have a photo of you people just by my desk, pinned on to an orangey red soft board. It’s the picture we took on the roof top. The goofy picture – where everybody’s smiling and clowning around. I certainly looked out of place, being FT to neither class, only teaching English, but being invited up on the roof all the same. How candid that picture was, with Ismail trying very hard to avoid Sufian’s outstretched fingers. Irshad in a pose so unlike him, and Syera being as cheeky as usual in her signature pose then…And it aches –oh! How it aches to see those smiles, those faces! Only God knows how it aches so…. I don't know why you people are always in my mind - maybe it's because in your innocence, I saw your strength; in your strength, I saw my own weaknesses and in your weaknesses, I saw a way to be stronger, alhamdulillah. In giving and teaching you people, I think I have received more and learned more than you did. And this, truly, is an under statement...In all of you I see my life for the past nine years in and OUT of Irsyad - the good and the bad times; some memories are not for me to share with you here, for you're all still too young for that. If it is not too much to say - knowing you people have made me closer to Allah, have made me see myself as who I really am - and I am ashamed at that revelation, humbled by that knowledge - if only you knew, but I pray you will never know.
Okay, okay.. I am emo-ing right now... :)
But as I wrote on the KFA nominees, writing and remembering, superimposing those memories with what recently happened in school, I felt a sense of dread; the realisation that people change. Everybody changes - for better or worse. And that's when I think I want to write on the rest of the S509 – as I remember them. Please do not misconstrue that I love any of my other students less. Only that, I think I know them MORE than my present students, having taught this lot and knowing them since they were in Primary 4. Afwan too if these observations are not accurate; if they seemed superficial, if there is a smirk somewhere in the readers who thought "She is wrong..." :) Humour me for these are written wholly from the perpective of someone who have been with these people since they were mere 10 year olds then. Pardon me too , if I write on how you behave, how your eyes look for these are things I remember, especially eyes and smiles. Some people remember other parts of the anatomy, but for me, eyes never lie and smiles never fail to brighten anyone's day, no matter how purile or fake they were put on for in the first place. I want to remember you people as you were at that point of time before maturity and experience changes everything. Everything...
These are written in absolutely random order. So, here goes:
1. Meera Monday : the daughter I never had enough time to spend with.I remember her faraway look- a look which is more mature than her years, a pain only God knows and it hurts me to see that look in those beautiful eyes. But Allah knows better how strong His servants are..and the laughter!! Never loud, but tingling and lovely to hear. I remember her conviction to be a better person, I remember the times when focused, she could move mountains and be what she was meant to be. She still is an unpolished gem.
2. Haykal : Flashes of anger in those curly-lashed black eyes and then the smile would come - totally sincere and those eyes would light up again. I remember his soothing, calm manner as he helped out to pacify his friends and of course, again, that brilliant smile! I remember the day I passed him the book - his face had been most distraught - stressed- perhaps. But then he smiled on receiving it - and it broke my heart to see such a smile, such happiness that it pained me too.. and i wished i could make him smile every single day...
3. Hannah : skinny as a bamboo stick. Still remember the bewildered look she would have when things get a little bit difficult to understand, the frown and knitted eyebrows. I remember the great pictures she took, the books she read - she was such a reader! Her favourite pose then was the 'pouting lips' and that always made me laugh! I used to look at photographs she posted in her blog and marvelled at their simplicity in content and in awe at the artistic angle the photos were taken.
4. Sufian : The Gentleman. A gentle soul with a soft heart - he would 'puncture' his sentences with a small laugh at the end. Teaching him art gave the opportunity to see his 'crazy' streak and his earnestness when doing his work - but he was always relaxed, like the world can go berserk for all he cares - that, never ruffled his kindly, calm disposition. I am sure he has been angry before, but have never personally seen him being angry once.
(Okay, have to stop here first - overspilling of memories in this old brain of mind...hope Allah will grant me the stamina to complete the whole lot..insyaAllah!)
Doa rabitah buat anak-anak S509...
Promise?
Can we not just
be friends
living amicably together?
Instead of you
always tearing apart –
my pride, my dignity, my honour
testing my patience, my iman, my pledge to Allah
till I don't recognised me for who I am -
for who I was, even -
Can we be just that?
We might not together end in heaven
But let’s not make this a living hell either…
be friends
living amicably together?
Instead of you
always tearing apart –
my pride, my dignity, my honour
testing my patience, my iman, my pledge to Allah
till I don't recognised me for who I am -
for who I was, even -
Can we be just that?
We might not together end in heaven
But let’s not make this a living hell either…
To cane, or not to cane - that is the question.
(From henceforth, a few of my entries are backlogged ones. That is, I have written these some time ago, but have not found the time, or in some writings, the courage, to publish them. I normally mull over my entries, thinking about the impact they have on readers (if any do read them anyway!) and the implications or insinuations the writings might have.)
July 21st 2010 marks a momentous event in Irsyad. For the first time in my nine years here, the school conducted a public caning on three students – 2 are secondary three pupils, whereas one is a mere secondary two pupil. ‘Conducted’ seemed to imply that it was some sort of organized show. Indeed, it was. Every single detail was discussed, debated and agreed upon. It had to be done in an atmosphere of seriousness and respect – for Allah’s laws, for the teachers, for the students and above all, we do not want the offenders to be stripped of their dignity. In the end, the public nature of their crime warranted a public punishment, and thus, the public caning.
The decision to cane was not an easy one. The polemics gyrated among many issues – like the impact of the offenders’ actions on the school, in particular, and on the madrasah community in general. Many questions were asked – what went inside their heads when they did it? What made them do what they did? At one point of their misdeeds, the scene caught on camera was blasphemous and that shook all of us, with a few shedding tears. The utter lack of awareness of Allah’s omnipotent presence was just too unthinkable, too incomprehensible – yet the video caught them exactly in that state – utter disregard for a shared common courtesy, a shared common respect and a shared common tauhidic concept.
The three were caned in an atmosphere of tension and silence. Each received three lashes. Only the lashings were heard. The first and second offenders took their punishment quietly. I was not looking. I couldn't look. Wouldn't look...The third offender, perhaps due to his young age, was visibly disturbed, his face already red before he was caned and my fear, as well as some other teachers was that he would collapsed before the canings were completed. He was groaning by the first caning...I shed tears for him, that boy...for I remembered when he was in primary one and I sent him home about twice or thrice, for he would always be the last boy to still be in school and taking pity of his young age, I would send him home. He wasn't afraid to go home alone even at that young, tender age. He had been independent and street smart and his family puts their complete trust in Allah to protect him and help him as he goes to and from school and his home. He had a pretty serious accident with a lorry when he was in Primary six, if I was not mistaken, but he survived through that too, coming to school with a few scars on his face, still smiling, still unfazed. He was, in all respect, highly impressionable and prefers to mix with older students. In the end, this preference made him the youngest offender among the three caned that day.
May Allah grant these kids taufik and hidayah to understand the serious implications of their misdeeds and help them to turn over a new leaf. Amin.
On retrospect, were we right to take on the role of the family in caning these kids? Has the canings served the purpose of making right the wrongs they committed and making them see their wrongdoings? Did the pain and public shaming make them better Muslims? Did the canings make them see that the school cares for them; that the school still believes in them and has the hope of them changing for the better, which was why we chose caning to expulsion? Did the canings served to warn the others of the serious stance the school takes on such matters? Did the canings instill in others that wrongdoings will be served justice by Allah, if not here on earth, then later in the hereafter???
These are salient questions with no clear answers. However, I fear that to many of those questions, the answer is a dull, resounding 'No!'
July 21st 2010 marks a momentous event in Irsyad. For the first time in my nine years here, the school conducted a public caning on three students – 2 are secondary three pupils, whereas one is a mere secondary two pupil. ‘Conducted’ seemed to imply that it was some sort of organized show. Indeed, it was. Every single detail was discussed, debated and agreed upon. It had to be done in an atmosphere of seriousness and respect – for Allah’s laws, for the teachers, for the students and above all, we do not want the offenders to be stripped of their dignity. In the end, the public nature of their crime warranted a public punishment, and thus, the public caning.
The decision to cane was not an easy one. The polemics gyrated among many issues – like the impact of the offenders’ actions on the school, in particular, and on the madrasah community in general. Many questions were asked – what went inside their heads when they did it? What made them do what they did? At one point of their misdeeds, the scene caught on camera was blasphemous and that shook all of us, with a few shedding tears. The utter lack of awareness of Allah’s omnipotent presence was just too unthinkable, too incomprehensible – yet the video caught them exactly in that state – utter disregard for a shared common courtesy, a shared common respect and a shared common tauhidic concept.
The three were caned in an atmosphere of tension and silence. Each received three lashes. Only the lashings were heard. The first and second offenders took their punishment quietly. I was not looking. I couldn't look. Wouldn't look...The third offender, perhaps due to his young age, was visibly disturbed, his face already red before he was caned and my fear, as well as some other teachers was that he would collapsed before the canings were completed. He was groaning by the first caning...I shed tears for him, that boy...for I remembered when he was in primary one and I sent him home about twice or thrice, for he would always be the last boy to still be in school and taking pity of his young age, I would send him home. He wasn't afraid to go home alone even at that young, tender age. He had been independent and street smart and his family puts their complete trust in Allah to protect him and help him as he goes to and from school and his home. He had a pretty serious accident with a lorry when he was in Primary six, if I was not mistaken, but he survived through that too, coming to school with a few scars on his face, still smiling, still unfazed. He was, in all respect, highly impressionable and prefers to mix with older students. In the end, this preference made him the youngest offender among the three caned that day.
May Allah grant these kids taufik and hidayah to understand the serious implications of their misdeeds and help them to turn over a new leaf. Amin.
On retrospect, were we right to take on the role of the family in caning these kids? Has the canings served the purpose of making right the wrongs they committed and making them see their wrongdoings? Did the pain and public shaming make them better Muslims? Did the canings make them see that the school cares for them; that the school still believes in them and has the hope of them changing for the better, which was why we chose caning to expulsion? Did the canings served to warn the others of the serious stance the school takes on such matters? Did the canings instill in others that wrongdoings will be served justice by Allah, if not here on earth, then later in the hereafter???
These are salient questions with no clear answers. However, I fear that to many of those questions, the answer is a dull, resounding 'No!'
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