The Afternoon Assembly.

Miss Radha the headmistress says I'm the first pupil in the history of the school to be caned in public for locking up an old man who is the school librarian. People in the assembly are laughing which got Miss Radha kinda mad because she says this is no laughing matter and that we all should be ashamed of ourselves for finding this incident funny. And so she starts on a long winded speech about what could have happened if the library had caught fire with the poor librarian trapped inside because I had coiled the door-knobs together with a wire.

I stand on the stage facing the assembly of students in the afternoon session listening to Miss Radha speaking on a microphone which is an indication that this is a serious assembly because every one knows the school will only put out the microphone when Miss Radha has important message which she delivers in a long winded speech about the importance of virtue, rules, education and how we can all become prime minister one day if we put our mind to it. But today she is very sad to learn that the library, the very place where every great journey in life should begin has been treated with utter disrespect that it nearly kill an old man of a heart attack. This is a serious offence and the school may find it fit to expel me, or have me transferred to another school, provided there is a school in Penang that would accept me. Otherwise, the school will have to recommend to the state that I be sent to a reform institution as the last resort. This scares me quite a bit but I put up a tough front knowing only too well that I've gotta deal with this alone. Yusof and Siva are not involved. There were there with me but they took off when the librarian started to sound as if he was dying while trying to push the door open from inside. I thought he was dying too which scared me quite a bit that I figured I'd better unwind the wire that I had coiled around the door-knobs before the old man decided that an evening like this was as good as any to die as a librarian. And that's when the janitor caught me. Which is why I'm now standing on the stage ready to be caned by Mr Thomas Khor.

Maybe you've never been caned in public before but lemme tell you this; a whack to the bottom is the same as the whack you get in the office, or the teacher's room, or in front of a class. I know a lot of boys who can take a whack better than I do but most of them prefer to receive their share of the whack in private, not in front of the whole school, in front of the girls. Lemme tell you this; they don't know nothing. A whack in public is a high-class show where you're the tough guy. And you know how it is with tough guys, they don't cry. Which is why a lot of boys prefer to be whacked in private.

Today, I cry a little on the third whack. Two more whacks to go but I can't hold back the tears from coming out little by little like a drop of dew. No, not because of the pain. I cry because suddenly I feel so alone on a stage in front of the entire afternoon assembly.

Love Letter.

Ustaz says to Yusof and me; you sit here, and you go sit over there. And so that's how I got to sit close enough to Anita to figure out something while the class is going on. This being our second Agama class in a week in Form 1A classroom, I figure there's no need to rush things that could land me in trouble again, but it's hard not to rush things when Anita is so close behind me in a row to my right, and Kamal is a couple of seats further behind in the row to my left.

Ustaz calls out a name. A guy tries to read out a page from a book but he can't read too good and so Ustaz makes him go to the front. Another guy got called out but he can't read too good either and so he joins the first guy standing in front of the class. I figure I'm pretty safe on account I don't have the book which gives Ustaz a good reason not to call me to read out the page, which also gives me plenty of time to write a letter to Anita and pass it to her at the end of class. And so I write Anita a letter that goes something like this;

First I draw a picture of Anita and Faizah walking about the schoolyard. Anita has got the ribbon in her hair, and Faizah doesn't have any because she's not important. And then I draw a guy standing by the stairs looking out to them. This guy has got the dialogue bubble that says; 'Marka Jambu!' And then I draw a bit of the school building, and a bit of people milling about. You can't make out who these people are because I draw them small and they stand very far away that they look more like match sticks lining up the picture. And then I sign my name: Bergen (of course this is not my real name but for this entry let's presume this has always been my name because a guy like me can't have any other name except this one. I put a title on the letter: Anita Marka Jambu.

Ustaz calls out a name and a guy reads good. And then he calls out another name. By now a group of guys standing in front of the class has swelled quite a bit to include some girls too. Anita can't read too good and so she joins a group of girls standing in front of the class. And then Ustaz says; hah, oghang Trengganu, mai baca buang sekali tengok. This got a few laugh from the boys in class but I don't see what's so funny about it and so I look hard at one of the boys who laugh. I say; tak ada buku, Ustaz. He says something like this; Hang jangan nak dok pelemah mai buang, jangan dok nak buat loyar buruk, faham? Between you and me, I've been on Penang Island hardly a few months and I haven't quite gotten used to a lot of things like what he has just said about buang buang buang. And I'm thinking; nak buang apa? But all this comes to an end when a guy from the back gives me the book which he's been kind enough to open to a page I gotta read from. It's a short verse of a Qur'an that I've read long long time ago but I haven't been reading the Qur'an since the first day I came to live with Aunt Su and Pakcik Syed in Penang. They don't have a Qur'an in the house and I don't see a single sajadah in the house and I don't see Aunt Su or Pakcik Syed pray a single raka'at. All I've seen is Aunt Su and Pakcik Syed fighting night after night about money which got Pakcik Syed to leave the house to come back later in the night when every one's asleep, walking into the house swirling about like a boat in a rough storm, smelling of cheap liquor.

I start to read. And the verse got to me deep. I read loud. I think of Grandma. I think of Aunt. I think of Cousin. I think of Dungun. I hear the Azan from the mosque behind our house. I see Grandma smiling. I hear her voice, clear as the morning breeze. I miss Dungun. I miss home. Ustaz says; you read good. Of course I read good. You would read good too if you had been taught by Grandma.

We're walking toward the bus stop when Yusof says; I didn't know you can read good. Maybe you can teach me one day. No, I never had the chance to teach him to read. We were too busy stealing money from the beggars on Penang Road to do any reading. Besides I wouldn't know how to teach someone who doesn't know an Alif if it hits him in the head like a ton of brick. Furthermore, how was I supposed to know that my heart was slowly getting clogged with slime now that I am no better or worse than Yusof and Siva. Dungun is fading in my mind like the land I see slowly disappearing into the horizon when the evening falls on Gurney Drive while I munch on rojak apek feeling brave as a warrior even though it is Maghrib.

I never wrote Anita another letter. I never sent her one either. My heart belongs to the pretty girl I saw in the movie poster in Dungun. I promise myself that I'll write a million love letters addressed to her when I find her.

Anita Is Laughing Like A Fish Out Of The Water.

Two weeks out. Nothing happened. Maybe Anita doesn't have a brother who has something to say to me about something that has been bothering him that he gotta find the time to come see a form one guy who has been disturbing his sister who is not all that pretty on account I've seen the most pretty girl in the world and there's no way I can love another. I imagine Anita's brother is a big burly guy, maybe a form 5 dude, or someone who has a job with Penang Municipality writing parking tickets because most Penang Malays aspire to have this job in the 70s as this makes them feel important walking around under the hot sun putting on a cloth hat supplied by the Municipality, writing parking tickets with a BIC ball-point pen, supplied also by the Municipality. By the third week I figure Anita's brother isn't coming and so Yusof and I don't talk about it because we've got other things to talk about now that we are free to do our own thing during Agama period. Our form teacher Mr Fong says the five of us Malay boys in Form 1E is too small for the Ustaz to come teach us as a class. Which is fine by us because Agama is the last period of school and so we prefer to have the free period to ourselves and we hope and pray to heavens that things will continue this way for the rest of the year. But the heavens are not listening because a boy from Form 1A knocks on the door of our class one fine evening to say the five us have to join Form 1A for Agama. Yusof says this can't be happening and so I say; let's just walk out of school but Mr Fong says you two had better not run away or I'll let Mr Thomas Khor to deal with you. This Thomas Khor of a guy is a discipline teacher who has caned me quite a bit and so I say out of respect, let's just go attend this Agama class one time and see how it goes. And so we pack our things and take two flights of stairs to go up to Form 1A classroom.

We walk in to look for a seat but the Ustaz says; awat hampa kughang ajaq sangat tak tau nak bagi salam? That got the whole class laughing at us as if we are a bunch of converts who don't know any better how to greet a class of fellow Muslims properly. Yusof is the first to say; Assalmekom. That got the class to laugh even louder. I say that too but the Ustaz can't hear it and so he says; so you're the big-headed Trengganu boy who just came but already a famous name. That doesn't make the class to laugh which is fine by me. I share a chair with Yusof at a desk by the window. Everyone has got the book open ready to a page they're gonna read from. I don't have the book. Yusof doesn't have one either. The other three friends from Form 1E, Izhar, Kamaruzzaman and Anuar don't have it too. I got the strange feeling that the Ustaz doesn't like the five of us to be here in his class but I like it just fine because I'm now in the same class as Anita. She sits behind Faizah on the other end of the row by the window. Out of the blue Yusof kicks my leg and I kick his which got us giggling in a game I kinda like very much but this doesn't last very long because obviously Ustaz finds out about it soon enough to come barging at us to grab the collar of our shirt so he can yank us off our seat, holding us each on both hands as if we're some kinda of cats from an alley. He got us to stand facing the class by a corner next to the blackboard. He continues teaching class, looking at us every now and then as if he cares to ask whether we need anything to drink or to eat while we're at it. Anita isn't looking at me. She got her head in the page of the book. I'm not looking at Kamal. I know he doesn't feel too good now that I'm looking at Anita hoping to catch her eyes to grimace a funny face which is a dangerous thing to do because everyone is watching me while they pretend to read from the page of the book. But as long as Ustaz does his thing teaching class facing the students I reckon I'm pretty safe. And so I do another face, crossed-eye that came out perfect as a crossed-eye can be. That got Yusof to laugh kik...kik...kik like a kitten and that got me to laugh like a diesel engine starting up kek...kek...kek.

Some of the boys in the class find this funny. Kamal is pretty set on not laughing to show he's such a fine gentleman with fine manners. Anita and Faizah laugh, shaking their shoulders like fish out of the water gasping for some air. Ustaz turns around to see what's the ruckus going on behind his back but I look up the ceiling in time but not fast enough for Ustaz to know any better what's going on. And so I say; Ustaz dia kacau saya. That got Yusof pretty pissed and so he grabs my shirt but I turn sideways to grab his arms. Ustaz says; the two of you are going to see Mr Thomas Khor now!

We're walking to go see Mr Thomas Khor in the teachers' room which is not the kinda thing you wanna do when school is gonna be out in less than 10 minutes. One more time heavens isn't listening because of all the person in the whole of Jelutong, Gelugor and Brown Garden sent down to escort us to see Mr Thomas Khor is a skinny guy with a lot of hair called Kamal.

And They Called It Puppy Love.

Of course she knows she's the prettiest girl in school because everyone says so. And you know how it is with the most pretty girl in school. She's gotta have someone less pretty as a friend with whom she can saunter back and forth in the schoolyard so people can make comparison to reaffirm that she's indeed the prettiest. That's how it goes with Anita and Faizah. Everyone says Anita is the doll of all the dolls in school and Faizah is a doll too but she's not as pretty a doll as Anita, who is probably the prettiest doll in the whole of Penang Island for all I care. But between you and me, I don't think she's the prettiest thing I've ever seen walking about the schoolyard now looking at me because everyone says I'm the Trengganu boy who speaks funny.

People say Anita has been taken by a guy called Kamal who is in Form 1A. Some people say that's not true because they heard different. She has had her heart set for a form three guy in the morning session. Whatever it is, Yusof says; you'd better forget about her because she's taken. I say; no harm trying. Siva says; good luck.

One day a fair skinny guy with a lot of straight hair calls out to me to say; You! new boy, come here. He's at the corner of a canteen with two guys, one brown as milk coffee and the other a little fairer. He says to me something like this; I heard you sent a letter to Anita. You'd better be careful, new boy. This is Penang. You don't know what Penang can do to you for disturbing a Penang girl. You'd better not be writing Anita letters or you'll find out the hard way that you're not welcome in Penang.

I say I don't know what you're talking about. I don't write no girls no letters because I don't write too good and even if I do, why would I write Anita letters when I know she's taken by a guy called Kamal. (Besides, what chance do I have with Anita? Me being in Form1E, the last class in school, half of which can't read too good. Not to mention having being caned in public twice; one for pulling out a bun of hair of a guy who is a Punjabi. And the second time for fighting in the canteen with a guy I don't like because I was sure as the sun he stepped on my new shoes.)

Suddenly this skinny guy with a lot of straight hair laughs out loud to ask me; do you know who Kamal is? I say I don't care who he is. Of course I lie a little. I know who Kamal is and he is this skinny guy with a lot of straight hair now laughing at me as if I'm some kinda half-brain creature just came out of a hole in the ground.

From that day onwards, I follow Anita and Faizah whenever I see them walking about the schoolyard. It's not because Anita is pretty or anything. I figure this would get Kamal angry enough to call me out again for a fight. And so I walk beside Anita and Faizah during recess. They'd skip about like a pony as if trying to get away from me but I know they like the attention and so I walk faster to keep up. They'd go up the stairs half running gigling like firecrackers so everyone can see what's going on. This goes on for about a week until people say I'd better stop disturbing the pretty pair because Anita's brother wants to talk to me about something. Yusof says; you'd better carry a knife. I say; I think so too. And so I got me a pocket knife from a shop on Campbell Street.

Gotta Stay Clean, Mate!

Everybody knows UMNO has become irrelevant but you don't throw it away just like that. You gotta re-invent it. You gotta re-cycle it. You gotta use the word 'amno' to remind the future generation what it stands for. You gotta use amno as noun, adjective or verb. You gotta use it like this;

'Oh no, the baby has amnoed the diapers'.

'Tell the maintenance engineer to clean up this amno , will ya?'

'That has gotta be the most amno dumpsite in the world, man.'

'This things is so amno it stinks to high heaven!'

'Yes, you gotta clean your hands 7 times, once with air tanah because this thing is amno mukhollazoh'.

'How can pigs be more dirty than amno, dude?'

'You eat and what comes out through your rear valve is called amno' (Shahnon Ahmad has written about it in a book the title of which I shouldn't repeat it in a respectable blog like this.)

Or you can use it like this.

'I'm not gonna amno my feet in that cesspool, man'.

'You can't wash your amno hand off this deal, man.'

'That's an amno-old-man, groping the girls' behind with his amno hands.'

'This pigsty is so amno I can't think of a dirtier word to describe it.'

You don't throw away a good word like this, man.

Upper Blog & Lower Blog

You use Upper Block to fend off the attack to your head. I don't have to tell you how to use Lower Block properly because most people can do it by instinct. But I'm not here today to write about the basic blocks in Taekwondo, Silat Cekak, Gerak Lian, Lian Padukan, Buah Pukul Mersing, Gayang Lima, Escrima, Kali Pekiti Tersia or JKD. I'm here to write a little about blogs that have been started by people who consider themselves more patriotic than you and I. People who see themselves as more Malay than you and I will ever be in a lifetime. People who consider themselves the champion of truth, nothing but the truth, so that you and I will make an informed decision in the next general election to vote UMNO/Barisan Nasional back on (so that these people can continue robbing the country blind).

I don't know who those people are but these people sound serious enough in their blog to warn bloggers out there to stop making wild accusations about the government being corrupt, and dirty. One thing I can be sure of is that, these people don't like Anwar Ibrahim very much. They seem to have a piece of meat in their heart that has been making them spiteful of Anwar Ibrahim. I don't know. Maybe Anwar Ibrahim has stepped on their toes but this is none of my business. It doesn't take a smart fella like Safiah to see that these people are out to run down famous bloggers like Rockybru, RPK and others they perceived as the force to be reckoned with.

I'm not gonna write too much about these people who have started the blogs as part of their patriotic duty to defend UMNO/Barisan Nasional and the government. I believe they have come to the conclusion that it takes a blog to counter a blog, which is not exactly the right concept in martial art. A block won't do any good if the attack is too powerful. Last count, 4 million people visited Rockybru's blog. How do you counter blog that out?

Besides, how do you counter blog all the wrongs UMNO has done the last 50 years? Don't forget the pig farm story. And the rest of the stories that keep coming out of the hole now that we know who UMNO really is.

You can use Upper Blog or Lower Blog all you want but the way I see it, the Blogs are weak to fend off strong attacks coming your way, mate! I'd say, why don't you do the right thing. Quit now before you get hurt.

Reformasi - Revisited.

The crowd. The police. And The Man himself - Saudara Anwar Ibrahim.

Become A Muslim Today.

Everyone considers him some kinda intellectual. The authority who speaks on behalf of Islam. Every one thinks he's a smart fella since he teaches comparative religion and all. You know, the kinda stuff modern, metropolitan, liberated and open-minded Malay Muslim like to talk on end so that people can say; oh, he's very knowledgeable, unlike the ustaz and the ulamak whose worldview is still locked in the 1st Hijrah period.

And so this open-minded Malay Muslim says in his blog that he's angry at the way the Muslims are reacting over a simple film called Fitna. He's angry because according to him, it has now become more difficult for him to defend Islam. You've heard that right. He considers defending Islam his full-time job.

Islam doesn't need anyone to defend itself against what the world has got coming its way. After 9/11 you'd thought the the non-Muslim wouldn't wanna have anything to do with Islam. But lo and behold. America is fast becoming a Muslim nation. The number of German men converting to Islam has been steadily increasing on monthly basis. Monthly an average of 25 people convert to Muslim at Birmingham mosque alone. Czech astronauts became Muslim. People in Alaska are turning Muslim in great numbers. Korean too are becoming Muslim. Holland is seeing a record number of its citizens becoming Muslims. Every where in the world, people are becoming Muslims. In U.S.A female Caucasians are becoming Muslim in greater number than male. Families are broken up because of this. A daughter or son becomes a Muslim, the parents got angry. After a couple of months, the parents themselves become Muslims.

Here in Malaysia, immigrants are becoming Muslims in large numbers that JAWI has to have a special Fardhu 'ain class for the converts. Malaysians in Kuala Lumpur are becoming Muslim at the monthly average of 1,250 per month. I don't have the numbers for Selangor and other states but I reckon the average is about the same.

Preachers, priests and atheists are becoming Muslims. More and more male and female Caucasians are becoming Muslims. Most of them are from the cream of the society. People who make big decisions. People who are very good at what they do.

America is afraid of OSAMA and so Allah sends OBAMA who is only a few steps away before he makes it to the white house. Who knows, once he becomes president, Allah will give him the hidayah to become Muslim. Anything can happen and as you know it, things happen in completely different way than you think it would. Just like 9/11, people thought with that kinda image, Islam wouldn't' stand a chance in America. But lo and behold, Islam is spreading faster than anything the world has ever seen before.

And so when someone made a film about Islam being a violent religion, you don't have to worry about it. That kinda film will only make people want to know more about Islam. Holland saw a great number of its citizens becoming Muslims after the cartoon episode. So really, Islam is capable to defend itself.

And Malaysia, my friend, is gonna be 100% Muslim nation. Better get used to the idea because in terms of numbers, you'd better do some maths to see for yourself if all this is the figment of my imagination. A priest's son from Sabah became a Muslim and he now is a respected ustaz whom I know personally. He is very much involved in the dakwa to help people convert to Muslim and he has been very successful.

All around you, people are becoming Muslims. I'm sure you know of friends who have become Muslims. I hope you too will become one today. Or tomorrow. Insya'Allah.

Beautiful Quran Recitation

He's got a beautiful voice.

We're In Too Deep For A Quick Getaway.

Now that Pok Loh has hit back, this fight has just begun and bookies are taking in bets. You don't have to choose which side you wanna be because this is other people's domestic fight. I got nothing to do with it but as much as I don't wanna have anything to do with it I've got no choice but to be part of the whole three-ringed circus because for as long as this continues, a lot of people are not going to make decisions that could get them into trouble. They've gotta play safe. To see which way the wind is blowing, hoping to catch it on the upswing when it does blow their way. Until then, there's nothing much to do except to watch this whole thing as if it were a Saturday matinee show. I hope people will get hurt and I hope to see a lot of casualties and victors in equal numbers. I hope to see punches thrown and chairs flying and people's head smashed, skulls broken, nose twisted out of line, bloods, and teeth smashed. I'm gonna love this as much as I love barroom brawl. It's gonna be a great show and I'm gonna love every minute of it. Let's turn the whole country into a brawling nation to encourage more martial art schools to open and to increase the sale of weapons such as parang, pisau, kerambit, kayu, belantan, besi, cangkul, tungkul besi, gergaji, terompah kayu jati, buku lima, besi keluli 3 kaki dan 4 kaki setengah, rotan dan alat-alat lain yang biasanya digunakan untuk memukul sesama insan sebangsa.

This is as good a time as Hari Raya to fight with your brothers and sisters, folks! In fact if you feel up to it, this is the best time to kill your own brothers with a parang, slashing the throat in one strong strike, to see the head rolls down the street with blood trail looking pretty and nice like a piece of art. Go on, Dr Mahathir and Pok Loh. Lead the way. Show us the finer points of fighting with our own brothers. Some will seek the help of bomoh Siam to buat ilmu on their brothers or sisters. Some will seek bomoh Jawa and some will just go to the neighborhood hardware store to buy racun tikus to poison their brothers and sisters. To see them foaming in the mouth, eyes rolled upwards and die like rats.

They Don't Blog Like They Used To No More.

One university professor says Malaysia and Indonesia have the highest number of bloggers. He's the university professor so I gotta believe what he says since people like that will tell you they've got data and statistics to back up what they're shouting about. Otherwise they wouldn't be university professors with a PhD. I haven't been doing much thinking along academic line but it must have been something in the coffee that got me to feel academic to come up with my own analysis why people in these two countries consider blogging a national pastime.

It's the politicians.

Yup, they are as good a source as any that can get people highly charged and motivated to blog about because blog is, in many ways, a form of venting your anger, frustration and complaints to an intelligent being who talks back at you known as PCs.

Bloggers need politicians the way fish need water to live. Without politicians, blogging world would be as silent as hell left behind by its occupants after having served their terms of punishment to be inducted to the lowest section of heaven. Which is why I believe, blogging activities in Malaysia have increased tremendously over the last few weeks after the election. It's the politicians. They are still at it, playing politics, saying one thing today and another tomorrow. Saying stupid things and making stupid policies. All these are deliberately done with bloggers in mind - to feed bloggers with enough materials to write about. In the end, nobody cares about where the country is going because what could be more important than blogging?

Which is why you don' get all that many bloggers in developed countries like Norway or Sweden. They blog but not the kinda blog you find here. And they don't spend all that much time blogging because they gotta keep busy making things, designing things, creating things, manufacturing things, or volunteering. We volunteer too, like going to London to save Sufiah. Again, it's the politician who said this and it is as good as any to blog about. You know very well they are going to London to enjoy what's left of Spring and to shop.

I say, keep doing what you're doing, politicians. Let's turn the whole country into a blogging nation. That way we don't have to work so hard because no one seems to value hard work anymore anyway.

You can also arrive at the final analysis that the more politically unstable a country, the better it is for bloggers. Malaysia is fast become the number one blogger country and you know why given the current political situation. And the beauty is, no one is interested to bring this to a speedy end so we can get back to work.

So blog away, folk! It's good for the country.

Who's In Charge Here?

You gotta call later because every one's busy at the moment. Every one's busy talking, whispering, discussing, scheming, plotting, back stabbing, conspiring and conniving people to get involved in politics. Every one's so busy we don't know who's in charge of running the country. I got a feeling people don't care. These days politics is more important than getting the country on the move, getting the machines up and running to catch up with the rest of the world. Every one's busy so please have a bit of patience until everyone comes to their senses that the time for politicking should have stopped two weeks ago and that this is the time to work. To sweat out. To figure what to do. Until we know who's in charge, you gotta play it by ear and hold everything down.

In the meantime they tell you, please bear with us until everyone will have secured their positions and settled in their corner office before they can sign the checks. In the meantime I gotta tell my American and Norwegian counterparts that it's pretty normal for Asian and African to quarrel among themselves after the election because politics isn't about how to make a country great in this part of the world. I gotta a feeling this is gonna be a long movie that I might as well go see some friends who own nice restaurants to see if they need someone who can cut onions and garlic. Who knows I might pick up a thing or two about politics now that politics has become Malaysia's number one favorite pastime.

It's bad for business and it's not good. You've got things coming in from countries all over the world. Papers have been signed by the guys who don't have a job anymore because they lost in the election. The new guy just got in don't know nothing and he doesn't wanna sign anything that could land him in trouble. He doesn't wanna know about the contract that has been agreed upon and signed by the guy before him. He says he's gonna have to review everything case by case basis. In the meantime I gotta pay the running interest charges to the bank. In meantime I got phone calls to answer from people who've shipped over the valves, cranes, drilling equipment because I said I need those to be where they are supposed to be by 18 April. Who's in charge of the country? No one is that this might as well be a ship without a captain because the sonofabitch is somewhere in the open deck probably drunk as a skunk thinking to himself this is as good a day as any to jump ship.

I only know one thing. The country is good when checks are coming in and people are signing the things they supposed to sign because they understand the sense of urgency of a job. Right now everyone wants to understand only one thing and that is to play politic because it's the only thing to do right now since every one's talking about it. It's making me pretty sick in the stomach that I'd better stop visiting political blogs because the more I read them, the more I feel like slashing people with a knife, cutting open their guts to see what's inside just for the heck of cutting up someone because I have not slaughtered a full sized bull since last Aidil Adha. But who am I to tell people to get back to work? Those who won in the election are still trying to get used to the concept of working instead of complaining. Lim Guan Eng says he's willing to go to jail again for something he believes in. Doesn't he know that people need him to be in the office instead of trying to be a hero by going to jail? Or is he trying to run away from doing an honest job because it has finally settled on him that it ain't easy to do an honest job if you're a politician? Maybe that's what this is all about. It's about not doing any job and talking about planning to do a good job just to show to people that you're in charge when you are not.

Who's in charge? You gotta call back later. Every one's busy plottin' and schemin' and day dreamin'.

Fitna - Dedicated To Open Minded, Liberal Muslims.

Less than a minute into the movie, a liberal Muslim will come to the conclusion that; yes, Islam promotes violence. He or she will agree that this is so because it's all in the Qur'an. And that, my friend, is what Geert Wilders is trying to do. He's trying to convince the Muslims who have never bothered to study the Qur'an all their life into believing that the West has been right all along about Islam being the religion of violence. How else do you explain all those verses in the Qur'an that Geert Wilders have conveniently collated for you? The Qur'an is after all, the ultimate truth. I dare say that as high as 60% of the Muslims in the world have never been aware the existence of those verses in the Qur'an. Or maybe they are aware but I dare say that as high as 90% of the Muslims have never bothered to seek the tafsir for those verses, or have never bothered to understand why Allah orders the Muslims to do something like that. And so when a couple of Muslim men hijacked a plane to slam it into the World Trade Centre building, can the West be blamed into believing that those guys acted in accordance to what has been stated in the Qur'an?

To a liberal, open-minded Muslim, his or her faith is now shaken. He or she is inclined to agree with the West. He or she is a step closer to being a more liberal person and eventually an infidel. He or she will see the images on TVs, Muslims all over the world chanting, death to Lurpak Butter or Danish Cookies, or Shell. He or she will see people burning the Danish flag outside the Danish Embassy. He or she will come to the conclusion that the Muslims are prone to anger and violence over a film that seems to be making a very valid point about the Qur'an, Islam and Muslim. Never mind if the film is nothing more than Geert Wilders' perception of Islam based on what he has seen being done to innocent lives by Muslim men and women encouraged by the verses in the Qur'an.

Amidst all this, just like it always has been, no one from the Muslim world dares to come up with an explanation what those verses mean. But instead everyone in the Muslim world is out to get Geert Wilders, the way they came out in full anger demanding Salman Rushdie's blood, or Hirsi Ali's head. And just like it always has been, the Muslim world will issue statements after statements condemning the film.

Explain what those verses mean.

Explain why the Muslims must have faith in those verses.

Explain why the quality of our iman depends on how strongly be believe in those verses.

Explain why we'd rather die than to see a single letter in those verses removed.

Explain. So that we don't have to go out in the mid-day sun to protest and to chant Allahuakbar! Explain.

And pray that Geert Wilders be shown the hidayah of Islam so that the hijab that covers his heart be lifted. There must be a reason why Allah maintains those verses in the Qur'an, just as Allah maintains the verses on slavery and other seemingly archaic concepts. There's gotta be a reason. For heaven's sake, be angry all you want but the West needs the explanation. They are used to seeing angry mobs on the street chanting Allahuakbar! that they themselves can chant the same thing with perfect Tajwid.

Explain please because 90% of the Muslims don't understand why those verses are there. I say this because there are only 14 students in my class who have to juggle between work, family and friends to attend class in order to understand the Qur'an, to become a better Muslim. Compare this with million of other Muslims out there at the shopping malls or watching movies while a Qur'an class is being conducted in a quiet little corner of an old building in UIA.

Assalamu'alaikum. Tonight, read a surah or two. Iqra'.