Journey mercies

For some reason, the XX chromosome seems to breed very strongly in my family, in more ways than one.

For example, my maternal grandmother had seven sisters and three brothers, and my mother has six sisters and three brothers. And in my own immediate family, there are two daughters and one son.

And a common characteristic that seems to be shared among the women in the family is a dominating spirit. A lot of people I know don't react very warmly to the word 'dominating', but I think that is the single characteristic I am most proud of the women in my family.

That is the very same characteristic that saw my grandmother through in raising her sisters up along with her own children. And it is the very same characteristic that carried my mother through in raising up her own children, in the face of so much adversity.

It could also be said that it was the same characteristic that carried me through my own life's struggles, though I can't say I remember the pain that haunted me so painfully years ago anymore. The odd thing is, I don't think I could ever be as strong as my mother was with her struggles, and I suspect my mother herself feels that she could never be as strong as I was with my struggles.

The women in my family didn't seem to have very easy lives. But the love I witnessed during my grandmother's funeral shared between them was amazing. It is that same love that carried each other through their most difficult times. And maybe that's why my mother is amazed and why she doesn't think she could take on my struggles, because I never had that kind of love.

I had a greater love though. The love of a God who had held me when I nearly gave up on everything.

When my mother first broke the news last Wednesday to me that my maternal grandmother passed away at a ripe old age of 89, I felt overwhelmed with emotions at losing her. Although we were never exceptionally close, she was one of those fixtures in my life I had never really expected to lose. Or at least never prepared myself to lose. She had always been there in my life that a part of me just expected her to continue being there for a long time yet.

When I went back to Taiping for the funeral, done in Taoist rituals, oddly enough, there didn't seem to be any proper avenue to express any grief there was. My extended relatives had had more time in accepting the loss as they lived closer to Taiping than my family was, as they were with my grandmother during the last days of her life here. And so they seemed, well, pretty cheerful throughout the four days of funeral ceremonies. Lots of gossiping, lots of laughing and general light heartedness. Any mourning besides during the actual burial seemed unusually awkward.

In fact, my cousins actually gambled beside my grandmother's coffin and even slept beside the coffin when more relatives joined us the night before the burial and the prime sleeping spots were taken up by the older relatives.

You would think that would be creepy, but it was in a way, actually pretty sweet. Because for one, my grandmother was a pretty decent gambler when she was alive, and I remember she taught us a good number of fun card games. If her ghost had lingered on, I think she would probably have wanted to join my cousins in the card games.

It was only when I came back from Taiping when I felt the tears rising again since when I first heard of my grandmother's death. Bitter sweet tears though. It may have been a sad affair, but one I think I had gained more than I had ever expected.

It's been nearly three years since 9-11, but it seems like the newspapers has always been filled with stories about bombings and terrorism. Then again, maybe it has always been filled with it, just that the last three years it seemed to have been focused on a certain angle.

With all that has been happening, especially with the London bombings, I knew that my English friends would have plenty of discussions and questions about things. And when a close English friend (finally!) emailed me, I wasn't surprised by the contents of his email.

One particular question stood out, which was, what was it like, living in a Muslim country?

I won't say that I've not experience a degree of anger, scorn, frustration and even disgust at what has happened across the world in the name of a religion, and from a common belief shared by those who had killed, that it rewards such killing of its enemies.

But I won't say that I do not love people who believe in this same religion, whether or not they believe or even support the actions of the people who had died making headlines in all the major newspapers across the world. There are those who I have met who I come to give my utmost respect to for their character and their person. There are those who have shared more warmth and sincerity than people who I share my religion with.

And to be honest, I've met and seen people who call themselves Christian who stirs more anger, scorn, frustration and disgust than those who call themselves Muslim, though not for the same reasons. At the end, is there a difference?

It is not the religion that should be condemned at the end of the day, it is the sins in this world that deserves the condemnation. And it is the same sin borne of hatred, bitterness, spite, greediness, that continues to permeate in nations despite race, creed or gender.

What is it like, living in a Muslim country?

No different I would think, from living in any other country.

I took a much needed break to Pangkor with Gurjeet which she has been bugging me for a long time now. So the two of us found our way to the island and we had a smashing good time there.

I've got 'sea mosquito' (that's what the locals told me) bites on my hands and feet, scratches from slipping off a wet rock when we were exploring one of the smaller islands, got sea sick from kayaking and threw up all the water I drank and Pringles I ate into the ocean, got labeled as a 'weakling' from my best friend (coz I ditched her to row the kayak all the way back when the kayak owner offered to take me back on his motor boat), and received too many unwanted attention from the locals when they realised the two of us were there alone.

I did have a good time though, because we made friends with the resort owner (and since he was so nice, I'll just make a small advertisement for his place - it's Havana Resort, and it's has got good location, friendly workers and reasonable prices), and had a quality time with my best friend. So, good weekend overall.

But it's also good to be back in KL and to the comforts of your own home.