Showing posts with label Woman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Woman. Show all posts

Wednesday, January 15, 2014

The Beginning of All Things Good...

My first post for the New Year! And I am like 14 days late! So random.

There are a few posts on the way prior to this one being written, but they are still in the draft list. And some more stories I said I'd write about, but hey, first thing first...

ALL HAIL 2014!

And ya, if you noticed, I attempted to give this blog a makeover. A bit overdue. But I hope it will stay awhile until I can do some more proper revamping work. Whatever it is, there will always be coffee somewhere in this space. :)

Anyway, I promise to write more soon. There are soooooo many things to put into words I hardly know where to begin! The wedding tips, the honeymoon cum Bali trip, the moving house, the whole interlada about being called a new wife cum daytime career woman etc ... it's a lot to digest but it's an adventure of a lifetime that is much better in reality than just coffee-induced daydream. And here I am, can hardly believe I just said that. Haha.

Hope I still have my writing muse, so hold that thought. :) Meanwhile, here's a visual of our first meal cooked and ate at our new home, by yours truly. Never going to be a world renowned chef ever, but I promise I can fix a decent meal. Like my mother. Hopefully.

Herbal chicken, kangkung in oyster sauce (water spinach) & salted fish...


Till then, hope you all have a good month and a good year!! :)

Thursday, April 11, 2013

Lawas Adventure: That precious native appeal ...

Yo!

So a month back I revisited Lawas on an official visit, after a two year hiatus from the place. If you don't already know where the place is, hey do a quick Google.

My sum on the place: Lawas is this small quiet border town in Limbang Division of Sarawak. A whole day and a half journey by road crossing via Brunei, or 45 minutes flight on a Twin Otter transiting via Miri. Or you could also fly to Kota Kinabalu and then take a 3-hour road trip via Sipitang to get here.

 Lawas Airport...

For a small town -- the folks consisting of majority native Lunbawangs -- Lawas is quite lovely and the community are hospitable to bits. I've been here like 5 or 6 times in the past and the native charms never fail to amaze me.

There are many small wonders to this place. I don't even know how to keep writing this entry without sounding any less delighted or if I could recapture that brief Oh-Wow moment when I discovered what I had been subconsciously looking for. Eh I found them quite by chance, in Lawas.

Did I ever tell you that I have quite an extensive collection of trinkets, lockets, bangles, earpieces? My favorites are the natives'. Do I wear them? Not usually. Not all the time anyway, depending on the occasion. I just like to collect them. I supposed you could say I'm a normal girl in that aspect.

Adding to my collection is this beautiful awesome piece: a ceramic bead necklace embedded with a native 'bunga terung' motifs. Bunga terung or eggplant flower motif is a popular Iban tattoo design, the most basic tattoo art usually inked on a coming-of-age Iban male to mark his err manhood. (So help me Wiki...).

Hello baby... you're mine at last! 

This lady, Ms Mirit Tai, a small-time craft entrepreneur manning the booth, explained that she herself is a Lunbawang of Lawas origin, but she uses this design a lot on her crafts because like she put it and I quote: "It sells. People signifies it with Sarawak, and its popular with the tourists and natives alike. What better way to associate yourself with the homeland you love the most?" I couldn't agree more. I mean, I'm a Bidayuh and I find this knowledge a unifying force of Sarawak, the land of rich tribes and cultures.

The Lunbawang tribe (or also known as Orang Ulu in a more generic sense) are famous for their beadworks, and their creative skills with ceramics beads are legendary. According to Ms Mirit, they produce the ceramic beads themselves. It's a few days job producing the perfect clay beads. The village where she comes from, Long Tuma, is quite known among the locals for craft products. The Lunbawang designs are normally painted in yellow and black on the beads, but she gets to experiment with other bright colours as well, just for variety.

Well hello. I love it when I keep discovering secrets about my own backyard.

I lurvvvee my native ceramic pendant necklace...

That lovely piece is priced at RM10 each. Cheap weh ... considering I could easily get that for between RM20 - RM40 here in Kuching. I bought three other designs from her. Why not, right? By the time she ships them to Kuching or other places to market, it won't cost the same anymore.

The soft spoken Ms Mirit rolled up twisted and pulled a few tricks on this sturdy string made up of err (man I forgot to ask!) and expertly assembled three other native necklaces using the designs I just picked.

 Ms Mirit Tai stringing up a new necklace piece...

And tada! They're awesome to wear with a dinner dress, or to match a working attire. Or simply with a casual wear. Don't mind me. In fact, some native boys were known to fancy these too. And sometimes I kinda think they look sexy on a guy too, of course, providing they pick one that suitable for a guy.


Ceramic bead necklace, like native charm medallions...

Ms Mirit also sells these lovely earrings made up ceramic beads. Imagine that dangling sensation. I don't really normally go for these but they would make perfect souvenirs. 


Fancy native earrings...

And native bracelets! A girl must at least own one of these in all her life. They're normally tied together using an elasticized band so don't worry if your wrists are a little chubby, like mine. These too would be nice as souvenirs (for those people who hound you about giving them something from that place every time you go somewhere). Neat what. They're mostly unisex.

Ceramic bead bracelets in many designs

I have a lot of these in my treasure box too. Haha. They're like friendship bands except they lasts much longer than that. :-)

String bead bracelets

I actually wrote this entry with the lady in mind. Wasnt planning on it but sometimes I believe some good things must be shared, and besides, although I made no promise, I was hoping I could help her expand her business. Didn't I read somewhere that there's a special place in Heaven for women who helped other women? Amen.

 
 Ms Mirit Tai (right) with the hardly-photographed Coffee Girl ...

Ms Mirit takes up personal orders, group orders, corporate orders, special orders or any custom orders for her beadworks or other handcrafts. She promises fair and reasonable prices for orders made directly to herself. And so help me God because I am writing this with no charge.

For enquiries, you may contact:
Ms Mirit Tai
Handmade Ceramic Beads
Long Tuma
PO Box 319
98850 Lawas
Sarawak
Email: mirit816@yahoo.com
Mobile: (I haven't gotten her permission to publish, but wait ah... let me find her business card first)

Sunday, May 13, 2012

Mom's the word...

Mom gave me a black look yesterday. I tried to decode it, but I failed miserably. Usually when this happens, I would go the whole day wondering if I did anything wrong or out of the ordinary that would immediately bring me directly to her radar.

The thing about living in your parents' house is that you have to abide by their rules, which had been set almost the day you started understanding words and could speak your own. Although it doesn't help that there are many set of rules and some rules changed to adapt to further change, you still have to abide by them. Do or die trying.

So if I woke up a little bit late over the weekend, I'd have my bedroom door knocked on a few times. Or the sound of mom raising her voice an octane higher with the usual lecture of "Young girls do not wake up late, you will never marry if you don't get up NOW" or alternate with "In my days if I wake up later than 6am, your grandfather would scream the house down for the entire neighbourhood to hear."Oh that awful threat to reckon with on such ungodly hours.

Or if I come back slightly later than 10pm on a date night, the father would already be waiting at the living room with a scowl, a book in hand giving the impression that he was only there to read, and a few sets of Q&A at the ready. Mom would take her turn with the interrogation come morning... and that usually gave me a sleepless night. I'm guessing the idea was to keep me awake to ponder on my sins.

Or if I overcooked the meat, or put too much savoury stuff in the dish, or left the rice to cook on its own (hey electric cooker what..) I'd have a little talk over what's good for the health and what's not and how people in the older days liked it. And I'd stand with my poker face on, listening like a good girl.

Or if I stacked my laundry till kingdom come and only await for weekend to clear them out, I'd come home from work and realised mom had done them some fine days, because the sight was an eyesore to her. Sometimes she would launch an entire conversation on the wardrobe being a little unfit or unstylish or too plain for a working woman and that I should invest in my hard earned money to try to look better. Sometimes she won't say anything at all about the laundry, just pushed them over to me to fold and keep. Sometimes the gesture said it all.

Or if I come home without bringing any grocery, or basic needful stuffs for home (because sometimes stopping at the supermarket takes extra effort and time) ... I'd get that disappointed look aimed at me. Which I would try to compensate by taking her with me shopping the next few minutes.

But this morning, the black look was still there.

Did I tell you I moved out some time last year? Well not entirely, I have my own place now but I still do come home during the weekend. So this rule thingy and the responsibilities that come with it, and the obligation of being your mom's single daughter, do not quite apply to me anymore. They still do sometimes, but with my express freedom comes that feeling of being able to live without not having to answer a lot to them anymore.

So ... how to decipher the mom look? She's always been the one who understood me, who mediates between the dad and me since childhood, who stood by with a proud look when I got my first period, who waited at home with unshed tears as I showed off my best student trophy, who taught me how to cook my first dish, who patiently showed me how a real kampung-ketupat is weaved, who sat through an entire conversation about a guy who broke my heart and how she would like to see me settle to a good one, who witnessed my complete transformation from girlhood to womanhood with all the support and love any girl would be blessed enough to have.

My mother doesn't speak much. In fact, most of the things I got from her were hints, body languages, signals of the eyes, the hands, the looks. But when she does speak, I just can't help but listen. After all, a daughter usually becomes her mother when she grows up, right? It pays to notice these little gestures.

Anyway... I may not know what that look was, or if I caused it, -- I made the assumption that I did -- so I went to sit beside her at the breakfast table. What is it with breakfast table that always turned me into a child all over again? I sit next to her and I started holding her hand, bumped shoulders playfully like kittens, kissed her on the cheek and wished her Happy Mother's Day. The hot coffee on the breakfast table were a huge help for someone currently revisiting her childhood memories.

She turned to look at me, smiled weakly and said "I'm not feeling well since Thursday. My appetite ... it's horrible. I feel like throwing up all the time." *insert coughs and woebegone face* "I tried to eat but this sensation in my heart, it just couldn't take it. I'm not well..." And only then I noticed the exhausted look, the shadows around her eyes, the weak clutches, and the alarm bell goes on in my head. At the same time, in a flash I remembered where I was on Thursday... I flew in to KL on Wednesday evening, and came back on Thursday evening... without even informing her.

It isn't a coincident. It can't be. But all the same, fighting the thick urgent choking within my throat, and mentally kicking myself hard, I told her of my whereabouts and what I was doing and with whom and why I didn't tell her (cause I expected my sister would tell her) and why I expect to be gone again this week and short of confessing "Oh God mom I didn't commit any sin!" I basically cracked like a roasted can.

And then again she gave me that look that said "I KNOW WHAT YOU DID ..." She got up... and with my dad watching the whole drama... she turned with her coffee cup in hand and blurted out...

"GOTCHA!"

Dude, I swear... mom almost made me faint! Ha ha ha. Dad was laughing all the way to the pulpit.

And after that episode, I told myself, "Woman, you're a smart one. But you will never be smarter than your mama." And so I have strive to always try to catch up with her.

Pic courtesy of www.funxite.com

HAPPY MOTHERS' DAY ALL YOU LOVELY SMART MOMS OUT THERE!

p/s: Now I know where I got the knack for drama from. So I'm taking her out to dinner tonight to spill some more secrets. Wheeeeeee....

Thursday, March 8, 2012

The quiet strength ...

Frailty, thy name is woman.

When I'm angry, I'm quiet.
When I'm sad, I'm quiet.
When I'm hurt, I'm quiet.
When I'm confused, I'm quiet.
When I'm depressed, I'm quiet.
When I'm indifferent, I'm quiet.
When I'm helpless, I'm quiet.
When I'm afraid, I'm quiet.
When I'm lonely, I'm quiet.

No, it isn't always healthy to be quiet. All the same, it doesn't always mean I'm keeping it bottled up inside. I get things done a lot more and a lot faster when I keep my mouth shut and my brain brewing. After all, what's the point in yelling your heart out when it will only make things worst? Uncorking at the wrong time at the wrong place to the wrong party is not going to help matters. Crying helps a little, but is not the final answer.

We are always known as the weaker sex, and truly I supposed we are. But I, woman, know how best to deal with me. Not all the time, not immediately, but in time. Things aren't always written in stone. The quiet desperation and quiet despair can always be countered by a quiet understanding and quiet wisdom. Through sheer patience and a lot of faith, there lies the Quiet Strength.

It is the one thing that a woman have, the one thing that a man can never understand. If at all.

Remember and cherish what you are and what you have, my lovelies. Here's to us.

Pic: WishAFriend.com