L'histoire de l'origine des 'Nasi Lemak '

Translation: French: The history of the origin of 'Nasi Lemak'

Maka termaktub dalam Hikayat Melaka akan terjadinya satu jenis makanan kegemaran yang sememangnya berasal secara kebetulan dan tidak terduga-duga pada zaman pemerintahan Sultan Muzafar Shah yang teragung. Mak Leha yang menjadi balu akibat suami yang dipukau jin iblis. Terpaksalah dengan yang hati yang berat dan pilu menyara kehidupan sebagai tukang urut dalam Kesultanan Melaka yang agung menyuap dua mulut peninggalan arwah suami.

Anak perempuan Mak Leha, Timah namanya, menjaga dapur sepeninggalan ibunya. Maka terjadilah suatu trajedi semasa menanak nasi. Santan yang diperah untuk gulai jatuh tertumpah ke air jerangan nasi. Air mata Timah berlinangan mengenang nasibnya yang malang, sudah jatuh ditimpa tangga, sudah papa kedana pula. Beras secupak yang dipinjam Pak Ali ditumpahi santan. Kerana kesuntukan masa, tanpa cara lain, disidangkan makanan nasi dan gulai untuk ibu yang kepenatan dan kelaparan dengan hati kencang berdenyut bak lancang kapal Cina di selat Melaka pada hari bertaufan.

Maka dirasakan Mak Leha masakan anak belasan tahun. Nasinya terasa lain, dicakap manis tidak manis, dicakap basi tak basi, pegat pun tidak, lain tapi sedap pulak! Ditanyakan ibubanda akan anakandanya, "Hai Timah, nasi apa pulak ini?"

Seolah-olah tidak memahami soalan Mak Leha, Timahpun menjawab, "Nasi-lah, Mak! Nasi le, Nasi le Mak"

Ibunda menjawab, “Sedap juga nasi lemak ini!”

Maka tersebar luas akan kehikmahan dan kenikmatan juadah ini sehingga tersebar luas harum namanya hingga perantauan… Nasi lemak menjadi makanan ruji penduduk kebanyakan.

Demikian termaktub kisah hikayat Melaka…..tentang asal-usul nasi lemak!

Olde Penang, circa 1932.

Phew! This gem is a real classic that any air breathing Penangite or at least at one part of their life should see.  One can see hive of activities going on albeit at bullock cart speed. It also gives you that de'javu feeling about some of the sites depicted here like the Esplanade, the 'Miami Beach' in Batu Feringghi. Good one!

Another Malaysian Icon

In a trance behind the drums

Lewis Pragasam drummer percussionist extraordinaire...
Recently he appeared on radio on an interview and to promote his 30year compilation Music box-set.
The Brickfield boy has come a long way from his 'Bintang Harapan' days on TV! with Nor Nikman Dadameah. That is the time most of us were exposed to his kind of music, trying to fuse music of differnt cultures and showing his drumming styles mimicking other traditional instruments and sometimes playing with them.
He is now another world famous icon that Malaysia has produced. He is also instrumental in the concept of World Music.

Meet Marathon Man - Rifle Range Boy!

First there was MM- The Malay Mail, then Marilyn Monroe, then Mahathir Mohamad and now you have Marathon Man -Rifle Range Boy. RRB has joined an elite population of the world who has completed a marathon - a tradition in commemoration of the fabled run by a Greek soldier Pheidipides, a messenger from the Battle of Marathon to Athens to pass the message 'Νενικήκαμεν' (We have won) and died. 'Fabled' because modern historians actually calculated the distance to be about 300 miles!

I feel blessed to have the luxury of eating carbohydrates for recreational purposes rather than to replenish energy for day-to-day menial work to feed the family. Thank you, God!
Not many people knew about my clandestine training for the Big One. The long runs were run on early Sunday mornings (6 a.m.). The internet is rife with many training plans to choose from, each tailored to your level of competence. 

I decided that the family should remember this momentous moment in style. Thanks to Double Tree (Hilton Group) for their special rates for runners, we decided to stay a day in the Executive suite (with all its privileges).

The day finally came to claim the stake in proclaiming that I had indeed completed the marathon—to say, "Been there, done that"! The anxiety must have been too hot to handle for my psyche, as I hardly managed to catch a wink the night before (Bad mistake). I could feel myself swinging in and out of the twilight of sleep, with no proper slumber for all six hours of it. The adrenaline rush must have been simply too overwhelming.

Then, I made another mistake - I decided to wear the comfortable Injiji toe socks. I forgot the basic run of running - do not try anything new for a big race, which I would later find out the hard, crampy way. After a light meal of Gardenia bun, Marigold carrot juice and canned Nescafe-O, I was off to war. War to fight inner demons and the biggest naysayer, i.e. myself!
The brightly lit multi-hued Federal Building adjacent to Dataran Merdeka rekindled the nostalgia of P. Ramlee's movie 'Labu-Labi'. At the stroke of 5am, the race began with the concurrent starting of the runners' stop-watch and the beeping of the chip mat. I stationed myself along the 4:30 pacers. 

The 3D image of our journey can be visualized in the snippet above, compressed into a dizzying 5-minute trip. In essence... Dataran Merdeka-Jalan Travers-Brickfields-Federal Highway-Midvalley-Seremban turn-off-Sg Besi airport-Istana-Wisma Putra-Dewan Bahasa Pustaka-defunct Edinburgh roundabout Loke Yew flats- Jalan Cheras-Jalan Pudu-Jalan Tun Razak-Jalan Bukit Bintang @Indonesian Embassy-Jalan Sultan Ismail @Lot 10-Istana Hotel-Jalan P.Ramlee-KLCC-Jaln Yap Kwan Seng-Jalan Tun Razak-Jalan Ipoh-Jalan Kuching-up to Jalan Duta-Langgak Golf-Bank Negara-Jalan Tunku Abdul Rahman-Dataran Merdeka!

Armed with i-pod tuned to BFM 89.9, I embarked on the long journey. Like the clear-minded Confucius once said, 'The journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step'. The going was good. At 8km mark, I had clocked 1h -right on target. I could the 4:30 pacer balloon just about the whereabouts. Passed my time trying to enjoy the scenery and the serenity of the concrete jungle of KL before the monster vehicles started polluting and terrorizing the city. The signages were placed strategically to ease the run. I almost missed a step when there was a board with the words 'Surau 200m ahead'. I thought it must be a cruel joke or just there to fulfil certain requirements. Hold behold, there was indeed an open tent for runners to fulfill their godly obligations, and there was a runner there (I presume) in the characteristic pose after prayers! Power gel was sucked at 16km.
By 2h 24m, I had clocked 21km. Maybe because I had incited the wrath of the Gods by secretly smiling at the concept of having a mobile prayer tent in a Marathon race, like lightning, the first strike of muscle twitch was felt at mark 24km! I tried to shake it off and gulped a pack of cramp-busting power gel. By 27 km, it was unbearable. I had to stop at a medical tent to remove the Injiji socks and apply Methylsalicylate liniment over the lower limbs. After that, it was the stop-run-stop type of running! 30km @3h 44m. Gulping just enough liquid all the way, I persevered with every ounce of dedication, sheer tenacity and never-say-die attitude of Rifle Range Boy. Giving up was never ever an option.

I dragged along past the route. By the time I reached Jalan Ipoh, I saw the 5:00 mark ballon pass me by, and my heart dropped with the pacer's every stride.

Still replenishing with cramp-busting gels, my spirits rose by the time I reached Langgak Duta. Seeing the familiar terrain that I had endured on many early Sunday mornings with my soul mate, a new zest climaxed for the coup de grace. With the renewed energy, I managed to run again unabated at a decent pace. By the time I reached Bank Negara, it was going go go... To the sound of the song 'We are the Champions -Queen' on BFM, I finally completed my first marathon at 5h39m. We, indeed, are the champions - me, myself and I! 

I felt disappointed but happy at the same time. Disappointed because I should have and capable of finishing it at a more decent time - if not for the cramps. Happy I managed to complete the 42.195km in spite of all the trials and tribulations. Happy for having ventured into new frontiers not explored by average men. Hey, I earnestly earned this bragging rights! Like those in the running circle would call people like me, an FMV (first marathon virgin), I was shaken, stirred and bruised but satisfied at the end of the day.

I decided to reward myself with a generous helping of banana leaf rice, rich, fat-laden mutton varuval, and tripes (kudal), with not an iota of guilt. 

Would I do it again?

In the immortalized words of Sean Connery in the movie of the same movie and from the spokesperson of the Z-generation, Justin Bieber- Never say Never! In the meantime, I will just concentrate on my day job, and as Peter's Principle dictates, the fool will find his place of incompetence! I will run my 'half's and run my day job!

Men's Veteran - Full Marathon (Men)
Rank 560/904    
BIB No: B-02446
Gun Time: 05:39:46
Net Time: 05:39:40
Split 1: 01:11:21
Split 2: 02:24:53
Split 3: 03:48:38

Time after time

Life is a moment in space, so goes the lyrics in the song 'Woman in Love' by Barbara Streisand (a.k.a.the nose) with the lyrics written by Barry and Robin Gibb. Cindy Lauper sang about how time after time she is there every time her friend  needs a helping hand.
In my kind of work. (defusing time bombs), time is of essence! Sometimes masterly inactivity seem to be the wisest thing to do whilst in other instances I would be accused of sleeping on my job.
Good times, bad times and superstitions arise because of ignorance and the fear of the uncertainty of outcomes of some chain of events. Being apprehensive on possible ominous outcome of certain important events in one's life, it had decreed by our animistic ancestors that certain astronomical positions of planets in relation to the moon, earth and sun may influence end results of events!
In the present time, it appears that this hullabaloo is confined to the Asiatic cultures only. Not wanting to rock the boat or being the direction to which accusing index fingers were to fall, most young Asians just follow suit. Furthermore, the elders are still the majority stakeholders in most family decision-making scenarios.
A good deal of holy men amongst the Indian and Chinese community thrive on this unshakable belief. Their abdominal girth and fleet of cars as well jewel chest is ever expanding.
In the south Indian community, time of delivery of a baby would determine his entire future. Hence, parents would go great lengths to prevent birth of babies in some inauspicious months including preventing consummation of marriage and conjugal activities 40 weeks before these doomed days. In fact, in the Tamil tradition, sex on the first night is only allowed after astronomical nod! (Provided they remain unabated on the shelf prior to deflowering ceremony)
When I was due to be born some 48 years ago, Amma was flabbergasted as the bad month was approaching and there was no sign of labour. As she had a fresh stillbirth before me, anxiety was at all time high. Then came the intense prayer and plea bargains with the Gods (that a gratification prayers would be held afterwards - as if God is hard up for food that human will consume anyway). It was already the 31st day of the good month. By twist of fate or divine intervention, that auspicious month had 32 days and your truly came sprawling out on the 32nd day!
Not being grateful on avoiding the bad month of Aadi, Amma was worried that the time of birth only corresponded to the second best of the birth stars, not the best! (Typical selfish Asian mum). Again, after recalculation and allowance for Malaysian timing (versus Indian timing and other errors like in physics experiments, ralat in Malay), the star turned out to be indeed the best - how convenient!
The Chinese have their own share of good times and bad. They also have many superstitions to accompany that - elements, number and a gamut of rationalizations under the heading of feng shui.
I know how a Chinese lady who planned her Caesarean Section so meticulously after consulting many mediums and changing the surgery time many times just to have her water bag bursting way before the scheduled date and undergoing an emergency procedure.
A well known Indian soothsayer who is a regular feature on local TV to predict the future for the country on every new year, separated from his wife just to marry a young second wife who fell into depression and was a living hell for him. I bet he did not see that hitting him!
Time after time-Cyndi Lauper
The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.Martin Luther King, Jr.

National aspirations turned apparitions?

During one of my channels surfing sessions, to avoid meaningless advertisements and melodramatic mind boggling Kollywood dance-around-the-park sequence, I stumbled upon the live coverage our female badminton players slugging it out with the Indonesian pair in the finals of the Sudirman Cup recently. It was not their game that fascinated me (they lost meekly) but rather their (the players and their coach) off court antics. Somehow, in that live coverage, the camera was precariously close to both teams. Every word of their conversation was crystal clear to the TV viewers. The Indonesian coach was ranting away in Indonesian language giving final points in playing. The Malaysian coach, on the other hand, was talking away in what sounded like Mandarin. I do not know whether the coach is Malaysian or Chinese but I would not be surprised if he is Malaysian as it is a common sight indeed to find Malaysians finding it more comfortable (some calling it preserving the dying mother tongue - it used to be a common thing amongst Indian (Tamil) students in varsity teeming with the Anjaatha fearless Dravidian spirit) to chat to one another in their respective mother tongues - as if they are dealing in some kind of secret society transactions even in the presence of other ethnic group so much so that, like it or not, the languages seem to have seeped into others. Just that we do not use it. Just do not curse us in our face or behind our backs. It will alert our antennas and they would be trouble.
Here is a sample of a run around park sequence, just that this song is too melodious for anyone to surf away! 

Sybil stirs a new awakening

Free Malaysia Today

B Nantha Kumar

 | May 24, 2011

The 'real' Malaysian history would honour people like Sybil Kathigasu who epitomises racial unity.

Come June 12, it will be exactly 63 years since Sybil Kathigasu, the freedom fighter, died.

Most Malaysians know little of her. This is mainly because she, along with many other distinguished non-Malay freedom fighters, have been “buried” and forgotten by the ruling Umno government.
Why this is so is another hotly debated matter.
Recent reproaches by the people on the Umno government’s take on Malaysian history, which has erased all acknowledgement of non-Malay freedom fighters, tell of a new awakening in our midst. This brings the focus to Sybil.
Sybil is the only Malaysian woman to have ever received the distinguished George Medal (GM) for gallantry and bravery. Instituted by the late King George VI, the GM recognises both civilian gallantry in the face of enemy action and brave deeds.
She wrote a book “No Dram of Mercy”, which gives an insightful account of a woman of great courage who should be held as a beacon and role model to all Malaysians.
In the 1940s, Sybil sacrificed a great deal in the fight for freedom of Malaya.
Born on Sept 3, 1899 in Medan, Indonesia, Sybil Medan Daly was a trained nurse and midwife.

Turning point

In 1919 she married Dr Abdon Clement Kathigasu and they were blessed with two daugthers, Olga and Thavam. Later on, the couple adopted a son, William Pillay. Sybil and Abdon operated a clinic in Brewster Road, now known as Jalan Sultan Idris Shah in Ipoh, Perak, for 14 years before the war descended on them.
Sybil’s warmth, readiness to help and her fluency in Cantonese made her popular with the local Chinese community.
Then came the war and the invasion of Malaya by the Japanese army in 1941. When the Japanese army occupied Ipoh, Sybil and her family moved away to Papan, a small town fringing Ipoh. Papan would soon prove to become a turning point in Sybil’s life. It was here that Sybil began “consolidating” her commitment to helping the local community who were members of the Malayan People’s Anti-Japanese Army (MPAJA). Sybil secretly supplied medicines, medical services and information to the underground guerilla forces of the Fifth Independent Regiment of MPAJA freedom fighters who camped in nearby hills and jungles.
She also secretly kept shortwave radio sets and clandestinely listened to BBC broadcasts to keep in touch with the situation around the world, especially in Britain and Europe. Those acts were, at the time, considered criminal and highly subversive by the military administration of Japan in Malaya.

No betrayal

It has been told and retold by many that Sybil and her husband had treated more than 6,000 guerilla fighters who fought relentlessly for the independence of Malaya. Eventually Sybil and her husband were caught. The Japanese army arrested them in 1943. They promised to release Sybil and her husband but on condition that she revealed the names of the MPAJA forces. But Sybil was adamant and refused to do so. In fact, she is said to have told the Japanese government that she was “willing to die with my family, then disclose the 30,000 MPAJA and family members who fought for independence of Malaya”. Sybil was prepared to face the punishment by the Japanese army. They punished her husband, son and her daughter Thavam, who was then seven years old. But Sybil, who suffered the anguish of knowing her family’s pain, did not relent. She refused to betray the MPAJA members and their families. Finally, Sybil was sent to Batu Gajah prison where she was further tortured.

Tortured and tormented

According to her memoir, the Japanese army sprayed soap water into her vagina and forced her to sit for hours on ice cubes and she was not allowed to sleep. Sybil survived three years of torture and torment under the Japanese army and was only relased after Japan lost the war. Following her release, Sybil was flown to Britain for medical treatment. It was there that she wrote her now famous memoir, “No Dram of Mercy”. She went on to write a second book “Face of Courage”, which gave a revealing insight into her family. But the three years of incessant torture by the Japanese army took its toll on Sybil. Sybil died on June 12, 1948, in Britain, seven months after she was released from her Batu Gajah prison cell. Her body was initially buried in Lanark, Scotland, but was later returned to Ipoh and buried at the Roman Catholic cemetery beside St Michael’s Church. The older generation who are familiar with the Sybil Kathigasu story recalled how her remains arrived in Penang from Scotland by ship and transported to her home in Ipoh’s Brewster Road. It was one of the largest funeral processions ever seen in Malaysia.

Royal-style sendoff

Sybil, the Malayan heroine, was treated in royal style. Some 100,000 people from all over the country turned up to say goodbye. Even people from as far as Thailand, Vietnam, Borneo and Indonesia came to pay their respects. In Ipoh, a road is named after her to commemorate her bravery and Sybil’s shophouse at 74, Main Road, Papan, is now being presevered by Law Siak Hong, the president of the Perak Heritage Society. In 2008, the Actor Studio’s in Kuala Lumpur produced a play and trained her grand-niece Elaine Daly to play the title role of “Sybil”.  There’s also a Singapore TV drama series titled “The Price of Peace” about her life. Sybil’s life is perhaps the best example of unity – an Indian women who willingly sacrificed her life for MPAJA members who were mostly Chinese who fought for the independence of Malaya and Malays.