norlin

Published on The Star iPad issue on March 13, 2012

I THINK it is such an irony how I spent 19 years of my life learning, in formal settings, and now I’m ’unlearning’ those lssons taught.

Interestingly, I find a lot of the things which I had learned in schools and university irrelevant, in the real world.

To begin with, I never applied most of the academic knowledge I acquired. Well, except to answer test and exam papers.

As for the non-academic information, they were mostly other people’s opinions and definitions; rigid and weren’t usually opened for debate.

When I completed my tertiary education, I decided not to pursue a job relating to my degree programme. I decided to do something else having spent six years studying in a programme which wasn’t my choice. It was one of those things I did because it was expected of me.

So I landed my first job as a news reporter. As a cub journalist, I had to relearn how to write.

Back at university, I did courses like creative writing which required me to write poems, short stories and journals. So I had to undo my habit of writing wordy sentences.

In fact I got screamed at, by my editor many times, because my articles were too  wordy. At some point I thought I’d never get confirmed !

Soon, I learned that it was okay to question things. In fact, my job required to question a lot of things.

If I don’t, I won’t  get what’s needed for my story.

Seeking approval was one of those things I picked up in school. We kids are conditioned to behave and think in a certain way or we might be punished. It didn’t help that there were peer pressure to deal with.

After I left school, I began to redefine, many things. After a while discipline began to take on a different meaning for me.

I no longer relate discipline to punishment. In fact it became something very positive in my life. To me it’s the ability to keep going when all all odds are stacked against me.

I also started to see competition in a different way. At some point, it became clear to me that it was never about me against others. Competition is about constantly pushing myself to the limit.

When it comes to relationships, I learned that the best lesson comes from experience. I discovered  that some people are worth trusting while others aren’t.

Off course, there was no short cut through this. I had to interact with all kinds of people to form my own judgements.

One of the best things I’ve gained from the school of life was that I had the choice to walk away from bad relationships and those who treated me badly. Again this was hard as back in school, bullying was acceptable.

In fact some teachers and parents even think that it is something acceptable as it ‘toughens up’ children. Never mind that a lot of children were scarred from such experience.

As I go through life, I began to be more comfortable about questioning and redefining my beliefs too. While I would not go out of my way to offend anyone, I learn to accept people’s opinions while sticking to mine.

Back then, I used to feel uncomfortable disagreeing with people. In fact I’d get all worked up.

Now, I no longer feel that just because I think I’m right, other people had to be wrong.

Another valuable lesson I’ve learned is to create my own experience. I used to worry about doing something knowing that someone else has had a  bad experience of it.

Then, I discovered times when I had been at the same place at the same time with others, yet all of us came through with different experiences.

Freeing myself from fear and judgements is a lesson which is still an ongoing for me. When I had kids, I made a conscious decision to not bring upon them, the fear I had within me.

I also learned to be more accepting of myself and to see things as they are.

My experiences had made me believe in independent learning. I think children should be allowed to explore life outside the formal setting so they can create their own reality and define what life means to them.

If I had stopped learning or had continued to live my life by others’ definition or expectations, I would have been a different person.

I am glad that I took the journey to unlearn and undo a lot of things which were not working for me.  I believe that happiness can only be attained when you take the responsibility to create your own life.

Published on The Star iPad issue, on February 28, 2012

HUMOUR ME

by NORLIN WAN MUSA

When I was a little girl, my dad used to take me to cultural performances. Back in the 70’s he used to take us to see Mak Yong, Kuda Kepang and Wayang Kulit. For a seven-year-old, this was the only time I was allowed to stay up until very late at night.

We would arrive a few hours earlier to make sure we wouldn’t miss a thing. In fact, we would pack dinner, so we could get good seats. Once the show began, I’d sit quietly and watch the story unfold. But much as I love these performances, I would usually hide behind my dad, when the performers went into trance.

Still, the next time my father went, I’d tag along,  as it was a natural thing to do. Those cultural events were part of my childhood life!

When my dad was young, he used to participate in cultural performances. I recall seeing black and white photos of him performing, in traditional Malay costume. He looked really proud in those photos.

Unlike today, men in those days did not see taking part in cultural show as a sissy act. In fact the men back then were very proud of their tradition. I remember how macho the male dancers were those days. Then again thi was the 70’s.

I also notice that back then, the Malays were more free to practise their customs. For example when someone is hit by a bad luck, he will be sure to perform the mandi tolak bala. They believed that taking a special bath, would ward off evil spirits and hard luck.

In fact, I remember vividly the day I almost drowned in the sea, during a family picnic. The moment I got home, mum filled up a pail of water and soak a two piece wooden plank with Quranic verses carved on them. My mum then scoop the water and pour them over me until the pail was empty.

We no longer practise this today. Neither do we get to watch the authentic Kuda Kepang or Mak Yong. The eighties brought a lot of changes among the Malay Muslim, following the revolution in Iran in 1979.

The Malays began to abandon their customs and embrace that of the Arabs. They began to choose some traditions over the others, labelling certain practices as non-Islamic and syirik (blasphemeous).

In their haste to be a better Muslim, they were quick to embrace the Arab culture and disown practices that are not stated in the Quran.

Ironically the same generation of people are quick to blame the younger ones for abandoning what they have, for the western culture. Can we blame them when the parents themselves believe that other culture was more superior?

I was at the Mah Meri’s annual festival of Ari Muyang (Ancestor’s Day) last week. What I took home with me was how rich and real the celebration was. It wasn’t like some put on show that I see at a cultural event.

The Ari Muyang celebration at Kg Sungai Bumbun, Carey Island, was truly a display of their way of life. From the decorations, to the ritual of blessing one another and the food that they cooked.

I think culture, like a religion or belief, is a practise that should not be confined to a certain place or period of time. Like how some people only display good behaviour in a place of worship or during a holy month.

I think in our rush to be more Islamic, following the 80’s Islamic resurgence, we had lost some tradition that promotes great values. If we think about it, cultural celebration is always about celebrating lives, expressing gratitude or respecting each other and the environment.

Maybe in our hurry to accept certain culture which we had perceived to be greater, we forgot to stop and question our decision . I personally believe in questioning everything. That way, if I were to believe in something, I understand why.

To me our culture should be an extension of who we are. As a Bugis Malay. I am ashamed to say that I know nothing of my forefather’s language and culture. I do wish however that I do not have to give up my identity as a Bugis. Unfortunately, in Malaysia the Malays aren’t allowed to identify themselves as their ethnic origin.

I am not saying I want to continue to be a seafarer. But it would be wonderful if I am allowed to be me and not have a culture or belief forced down my throat. It would be even more amazing if we can let go off the desire to compete with each other on whose culture of religious belief is more superior. Maybe that way more people will find comfort in being who they really are.

Published on The Star iPad issue, on February 14, 2012

HUMOUR ME

by NORLIN WAN MUSA 

THE saying “Biar mati anak, jangan mati adat,” never resonates with me. In fact, when I was  small, I used to wonder in horror at what kind of parents, who would sacrifice their children’s life in the name of tradition? I am of the opinion, a tradition is not worth keeping if it had to be done at the expense of a child. Get a new tradition for heaven’s sake!

I heard the saying again the other day at the Kuala Lumpur Performing Arts Centre, while watching Parah, a play written by Alfian Sa’at and directed by Jo Kukathas. One of the characters, Hafiz, mentioned it in a scene, when he was having a verbal diarrhea about the importance of preserving the Malay rights.

Parah revolves around four best friends, Hafiz, Mahesh, Melur and Kahoe, who are of different racial backgrounds. Their friendship was put to the test when they started reading and questioning the contents of a novel entitled Interlok.

Mahesh for example, questioned Interlok’s author’s usage of derogatory words to describe the Indians and his stereotype of others.

I find, the issues raised in Parah very honest. Not only because it was inspired by the novel, Interlok written by national laureate Datuk Abdullah Hussain. (Interlok is a Malay language novel which was introduced as a literature textbook for Form Five students). Parah  also represents real-life situations faced by teenagers growing up with multi-racial friends. Especially, the conflicts and pain which the characters so well displayed on stage.

The play brought me back to the time when I went through my own journey of self discovery. I grew up with multi-racial friends and had always had non-Malay close friends.

Like the character Melur, in Parah, I had faced situations where my decision to be close to those of other races, was questioned by some of my Malay friends.

I had also felt guilty when my two best friends both of whom were non-Malays did not get a place in local university when I managed to secure one. This despite all three of us having similar SPM results. One of them were very sore over what happened resulting in us losing our friendship.

Then, when I was studying at a local university, I had derogatory remarks thrown my way when I hanged out with non-Malay guys.

I was expected to conform to a certain behaviour and practise a certain lifestyle. I even remembered being called “tak sedar diri” because I did not wear the baju kurung much.

Sad to say though despite the fact that what happened to me, occurred many years ago, the situation did not seem to have changed much. Last year, a neighbour told me that her sons did not get to mix with Malay kids at school.

Well, not that there is a written rule on this. But a few teachers had taken it upon themselves to brainwash the Malay kids to stay away from the non-Muslims. And because this was a teacher-sanctioned act, the kids would label the Malays pupil who mix around with others.

To my horror, this year, the same neighbour told me that her son’s Physical Education teacher had refused to teach female students. This is because it was against the teacher’s religious belief to teach PE to girls.

This would not have surprised me if it had happened in a sekolah pondok. But this is taking place in an urban school, in Petaling Jaya.

It must be very confusing to some of the pupils. Especially so for urban kids who grew up in a multi-racial society. I have a strong suspicion that some teachers impose their own insecurities on their students.

Just like how I felt about Hafiz in Parah. He grew up feeling insecure about being a child out of wedlock and being abandoned by his own mum. He’s also embarrassed that at some point of his life, he was taken care of by a Chinese woman. So in his struggle to accept himself and finding his place in life, he vent out his insecurities at his friends. Failing to deal with his personal conflicts he hit out at others where it hurt the most, by using racist remarks.

To me, it is very sad that after all these years, some of us still fail to see beyond each other’s race. And for some still have the deep seated belief that this country belongs only to the Malays.

Having said that however, like Parah’s playwright, Alfian, I harbour some hopes for the future. I look forward to the day when people are colour blind. The day when we accept each other for who we are instead of what we are.

As Alfian puts it, Parah, spells backwards is Harap, or hope in Malay.

Norlin doesn’t believe in stereotyping. The act will only limits one’s experience of others.

Published on The Star iPad issue on January 31, 2012

HUMOUR ME

by NORLIN WAN MUSA

A FRIEND recently summoned me to her house to participate in a discussion on gifted kids.

Several minutes into the discussion however, I realised that my opinion was not quite welcomed by a participant. In fact, I was lambasted for expressing my view even though I was just stating the obvious.

I was chided the moment I disagreed with the opinion, that the brains of all gifted kids are wired the same way. Well, I may not be gifted or have a gifted child but I know for sure that every brain is wired differently. No two people have the same brains. Not even twins!

I am also aware that any new experience a person has, creates a new wiring in the brain. It is therefore impossible for two people to have exactly the same wiring. I mean, what are the chances of two person experiencing the same thing all the time?

Apart from being snubbed, every time I tried to say something, what I found rather disturbing during the mostly one-sided discussion was how some us would wholeheartedly trust an assessment or study.

We label and pigeonhole children. We try to fit them to a mold by telling ourselves that if a child belongs to a certain group, this is how he needs to act and be treated.

I have also experienced adults who mollycoddle their kids because they believe their kids are exceptional. They even go as far as sanctioning their kids’ ill behaviour. What others may see as a tantrum, these parents define as a typical characteristic to those in a particular category. Some of them event went as far as expecting others to accommodate to their conviction thus creating stress to their relationship with those around them.

Personally, I think it’s preposterous to generalise that a certain group of children do things a particular way. A child is not a statistic. There are many dimension to a kid and each one of them deserves to be treated and respected as an individual.

I sometime find that we have become a society that is more willing to believe in so called experts than be spending time getting to know our own children. Maybe, we have a become a pill popping nation who’s only interested in prescription. Or we have this screwed up belief that belonging to an exclusive group puts us above the rest.

To me every child is gifted. Off course I was attacked the other day, for my take. I believe, if we care to spend more time getting to know our kids, we will see that each child has his own unique talent. As parents, I believe, our role is to provide children with the opportunity to nurture their talents.b

When my son was born, I expected him to be as easy as my first child. And, because I had made that assumption, I became frustrated when he did not meet my expectations. My expectation was in the way of me enjoying him as the person that he was.

As adults we also tend to measure a child’s ability against that of others. And most of the time we do it against our own fixed beliefs.

Just the other day, a close friend told me that she and her mum had a lot of issues to work on. Apparently, her mum had been living her life through my friend. My friend had constanty wished that she could tell her mum to start creating the life that she (her mum) wanted for herself.

I could relate to my friend on this, as I’ve met a lot of parents who had big dreams for their kids who unfortunately did not share the same vision. Not that these kids are any less ambitious. They just want different things for themselves. Some of them are talented in areas the parents chose to have a blind spot on.

I have seen many parents dragged their crying kids into sports club or threatened their children to go to music class when they (the kids) were clearly not interested in the activities.

I find it rather unfair for parents to impose their baggage or unrealised dreams on their children.

I think we should all be opened to nurturing each kid’s special gift. Be it in in academic, sports, or creative field. Imagine how different the world woud be if each individual is given the freedom to choose what they want to pursue and the opportunity to nurture their true potential.

For the rest of us who may not be categorised as gifted, there is such a thing as late bloomers. Take Bill Gates and J.K Rowling as two great living examples.

Norlin didn’t read or write until she was 6 because her brain is wired differently.

Published on The Star iPad issue, on January 3, 2012

A movie scene showing three wives from Nia Dinata's film called Berbagi Suami about polygamy

HUMOUR ME

by NORLIN WAN MUSA 

I CRINGE every time I hear or read about women who sanction polygamy. I find it hard to believe such an arrangement can be blissful. I say so because one polygamous marriage left a bad taste in my mouth.

My maternal grandfather had two wives. The three of them and their many kids had lived under the same roof until the day my step-grandmother passed away.

I don’t have much recollection of my step-grandma as she died when I was still young.

However, when she was alive, I would not go anywhere near that woman as there was an eeriness about her. In fact I used to think she was a witch!

My step-grandma was a superstitious woman. She used to frequent “bomoh” (medium), believed in the supernatural and hocus-pocus. She kept all kinds of amulets in her room.

Step-grandma hardly talked to any one and would stay in her dark room all the time. Her room often smelled of incense and she always had her windows shut. She hated bright lights. During meal time, she would have her food brought to her, by either one of her step-children or my grandmother. The only time she would leave her room was to ease herself.

I called my step-grandmother,  “Tok Bulan” because she had a growth on her upper body which appeared like a full moon to me. Bulan is a Malay word for moon.

Every time we “balik kampung”, my mum would remind us, me especially, to stay out of Tok Bulan’s hair. I would usually take this opportunity to ask mum about her experience, growing up with two mothers.

She always told me that I was lucky I didn’t have two mothers living in the same house.  No child she said should ever grow up in such househould.

Growing up, my mother and her siblings had had to endure endless shouting matches between her mother and her stepmother while their father was hardly at home. They witnessed helplessly as the two women quarreled, pulled each others’ hair and called each other names.

Oftentimes, her step-mother would vent out her frustration on them. She would pinch her stepchildren, hit, and even use demeaning words on them. Especially if the kids tried to interfere with the two women’s squabbles.

After a while my mum just learned to shut off. I suspect, she had used it as her self defense mechanism to keep her sanity. I suppose, it later became her coping mechanism when faced with relationship conflicts.

One of the stories mum told me of grandma which had stuck to me since, was how my grandma married my grandpa. She was forced to be his child bride. He was in his 50s and she was 16.

Grandma was initially promised to my grandpa’s eldest son who was a gambler and an alcoholic. Seeing how “irresponsible” a husband his son would make, grandpa decided to take grandma’s hand in marriage instead.

Being a teenager, my grandma refused to be married off. Apparently, during the drive to my grandpa’s house, she tried to break the car door, to escape. But her attempt failed miserably.

Grandma always discouraged her sons and grandsons from committing polygamy. She always advised her daughters and granddaughters, to choose their life partners wisely.

She said, there was nothing sweet about “bermadu”, a malay term describing the relationship between women who are married to the same man . Madu also means honey.

When my grandpa passed away I began to see a different side of grandma. She laughed more and worried less. Sometimes she even let her inner child out and would blurt out her wish to be young again.

For the first time in her life,  grandma experience a taste of freedom. She no longer had to take care of her ailing “madu” or husband.

Grandma often told her granddaughters to enjoy youths and not to get hook too soon. She also made us see the importance of self worth. For someone who was born during her time and had lived in shackles, she was very modern in her thinking.

My grandma died of what doctors suspected was thyroid cancer. Used to suffering in silence, she never told anyone of her illness and sufferings until it was too late. She died a few days after being admitted into the hospital.

I was heartbroken when I heard of her passing. But deep down I know she had made peace with her past. A few days after her funeral, while alone in my room, I felt a strong energy present next to me. I knew without a doubt then, it was grandma. She had come to bid farewell.

Norlin believes in exclusivity. When it comes to marriage she doesn’t think sharing is caring.

Published on The Star iPad issue, on January 3, 2012

HUMOUR ME

by NORLIN WAN MUSA

MY SOON to be six-year-old son loves toys. He proclaimed it a million times, in his very own words; “I love toys too much”.  He doesn’t discriminate either. To him, any toy will do.

He used to ask for a toy at every opportunity he had – when buying fast food, purchasing birthday presents for his friends, at the pasar malam, supermarket and so forth. To him every time we went out, he had to bring home a toy.

I guess I was partly to blame for his insatiable appetite for playthings. I used to buy him toys to make up for the long hours I had spent at work.

I had also been guilty of using toys to bribe my kids into doing something they did not want to. Like, helping me pick up dried leaves from the front porch or fold the laundry. I also did the same, to encourage them to do well in certain subjects in school.

My modus operandi worked until I quit my job. With less disposable family income, I was forced to change my spending habits. That was not easy.

I still remember the day I told my son I wasn’t buying him the action figure he had wanted. We had gone to a toy store that afternoon, with a promise of window-shopping.

Yet, when he saw the figurine, he became adamant about taking it home. When I refused to budge, he threw a huge tantrum and shouted, “You don’t love me anymore!”

I was taken aback by his strong reaction. And, bewildered that he had actually associated playthings with love.

He didn’t get to take a toy home that day but I walked away with an invaluable lesson. From then on, I began to redefine our values and what was important to us as a family.

The biggest challenge for me was also to admit that I had not chosen the most appropriate way of showing love to my kids.

Convincing my kids that they did not need material things to make them happy was no easy feat. Especially when they get invited to events where they are expected to give or swap presents like birthday, Halloween and Christmas parties.

On the other hand, such events provided us with the opportunities to discuss with the kids their comfort level and acceptance of our family values and that of others.

My husband and I soon became more conscious about when and how we reward our kids. We wanted our kids to accomplish things because they want to, not because there was compensation involved.

We also wanted our kids to carry out certain responsibilities and feel good about doing them, instead of expecting something in return.

Despite our effort, our son appetite for toys didn’t change much.

So we decided to teach him delayed gratification and the value of money. My husband started giving my kids pocket money. He’d give them each RM10 at the beginning of the week. They were allowed to either spend it, save it or make their money work for them.

To make this approach work for our son, we encouraged him to save money. Every time he wanted to spend, we would tell him that the longer he waited, the more money he would have saved.

A few weeks ago, when he wanted an Ultraman figurine which cost RM13, we told him that if he saved for another week he could get a better one.

So far it has worked well. He managed to hold back his purchase for four weeks before he splurged on a Lego set he set his eyes on several months ago.

We don’t know where this exercise would lead us. But we notice that he had stopped asking for toys. He is also fine with walking out from a toy shop without any purchases. In fact even the violent tantrum is gone.  Maybe that kid has wise up.

Whatever it is, it’s been a great pleasure seeing him hold back his impulses.

To me it is not just about the money, but it is about letting him decide on what he wishes to acquire or do in the future.

As a parent, I hope he realises that it is empowering to be able to consciously choose not to acquire something even when he had the means to.

It is certainly better than feeling helpless when he needs something yet not have the means to fulfill it. Up until then, I never encouraged my kids to take control of what they want to have.

In a world where we are constantly bombarded with all kinds of temptation, to spend beyond our means, I hope one day he gets it that giving does not equate love. And love means much more than showering anyone with material things.

Published on The Star iPad issue,  December 20, 2011

A file picture of Datuk Lorna Chang with the children undergoing cancer treatment at Sarawak General Hospital

HUMOUR ME

by NORLIN WAN MUSA

A FRIEND recently asked if I was willing to shave my head for a good cause. Her question left me in silence, for some time. Up until then, I thought I have no emotional attachment to things and could give them up in a heartbeat.

That day, I came to realise that there are some stuff I am unwilling to let go of, just yet. Not even for a good cause.

Following the conversation I had with my friend, I spent a few days thinking, “should I?” or, “shouldn’t I?” I even devised a plan on how to go about shaving my head.

I thought, I should gradually cut my hair, from long to medium, and then to short, before shaving my hair off completely. I even contemplated starting a collection of wigs and hats.

The project which my friend initiated, involved raising fund for cancer patients, which got me thinking about the after-effects of chemotherapy. While I get to choose whether to keep my hair or not, some cancer patients don’t.

My friend, in convincing me to shave my head, said that if we get enough women to go bald, we could create greater awareness. Her intention was to make cancer patients who had lost their hair due to chemo, feel comfortable about their condition and to walk with pride in public.

This got me pondering over my own personal issues. I have never felt comfortable about meeting cancer patients, especially those who had lost their crowning glory.

I guess I never knew what to say, not that they needed me to say anything. Plus, some part of me wished they never had to endure what I perceive as a painful experience.

Ironically though, I have also been inspired by stories I heard and read about cancer survivors. What I learned from some of them was they became stronger because they came to terms with their situation, instead of resisting it.

A role model example is former professional US road racing cyclist Lance Armstrong who won the TourdeFrance, a record high of seven consecutive times, after having survived testicularcancer.

I find Armstrong’s story empowering as he chose to be a victor instead of a victim to his disease. Through his journey he discovered strengths he never knew he had.

He moved on in life and continued creating milestones years on until his retirement from competitive cycling earlier this February.

In about eleven days time, we’ll be ushering in the new year. At the end of each year, I like to take note of  new things which I had experienced, as well as tasks I had completed, in the last 365 days.

To me this is also the perfect time to decide whether I should bring forward some things to the new year or to leave the unnecessary, behind.

I find that, unless I am willing to deal with what I am attached to, I will not be able to experience new things. I liken this to my experience in giving birth to my first child, nine years ago.

When my water bag broke, I thought I was all prepared for delivery. After all, I spent months  reading books on the subject and attending pre-natal classes.

Much to my astonishment, as my labour intensified, I forgot everything I had learned during my pre-natal classes. The pain soon caught up with me and all I could focus on at some point, was its intensity.

This went on until my birth companion, told me to focus on my breathing and to relax. She also whispered the word “surrender” into my ears. Her wise words would not have come at a better time. The moment the word sank in, I stopped fighting the pain.

Surrendering to the pain had allowed me to snap out of my negative mindset. In fact I started focusing my energy on welcoming my daughter into the world. She was born after three pushes.

I guess sometimes I need to completely accept a situation before I can let go and move on.

Now, coming back to the question of whether I’d be shaving my head pretty soon, I am frankly not sure. There are the baggages that I will need to deal with first when going bald.

Instead of overanalysing things, maybe I shoud just surrender to however I feel, at the time when I need to make that decision.

I may not be welcoming 2012 with a clean shaven head. But, I sure am looking forward to entering the new year with less burden on my shoulder.