Krista Writes: Articles and Features

Boring Bookworms? No Way!

2011-12-23T15:23:00.000+08:00

Li Jin was one of our ardent i-asianwomen.com contributors.

When she started, she was just trying out her writing skills.

Ten years on, Li Jin has made writing her career (power to you woman!). She's written for major magazines and newspapers and it is now her bread-and-butter. I still keep in touch with her (we've been friends since she started contributing her heartwarming stories to i-asianwomen).

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It all started out as an innocent invitation posted in the Barter Exchange Forum in the 'Communities' channel of i-asianwomen (iaw) that said - 'I have a large collection of books, mostly romance....would like to exchange with anyone who's interested.'

Was it the word 'books' that had the ears of some of the members pricked - or did the word 'romance' play a bigger part?

Whatever it was, it sure grabbed the attention of many of i-asianwomen members who responded to that initial message, saying that they, too, had many books that they wouldn't mind trading with others.

After all, not many people read their books more than once and are often at a loss at what to do with their books after it had been read. Soon the editor came up with the brilliant idea of having some sort of a 'Book Exchange' where people could meet and well, exchange their paperbacks or hard covers.

The idea festered for some time, and like all great ideas, withstood the threat of being snubbed out by bigger brighter ideas, until Poh Lin, an iaw member, took the initiative to get the ball rolling. Sweetly she persuaded her boss, Lisa, another avid reader, to allow the iaw members to use The Little Cafe at Damansara Uptown for the Book Meet. With that move, everything else fell into place as she planned the date and Krista went on an advertising campaign to highlight the event in the weekly ezine, Choice Offerings, and anywhere else they could.

The responses started trickling in; there were people asking every question imaginable - from how many books could they borrow, how were they to ensure that the books borrowed out would be returned in its original condition, what kind of books were allowed, and whether men were allowed in the Meet.

A tense period followed as Poh Lin and the editor agonised over the number of people who would confirm their attendance. As an incentive, Poh Lin even went to the extent of getting e-vouchers from an online bookstore, Acmabooks.com, where voucher holders would be entitled to a RM10 discount once they registered with Acmabooks.

The 7th of July finally dawned and was greeted with anxious anticipation by the organisers. Could people find the way there? What kind of people would attend a gathering like that? What kind of food and how much should they prepare? What if no one turned up? Should they put a signboard on the front door to make it easier for anyone who got lost or side-tracked among the numerous eateries along the main road?

As the ladies started streaming in, their worries soon dissipated into thin air as the room began to fill with raucous laughter. Some of the ladies brought a few books, some didn't - obviously many wanted to test the waters before they carted their prized paperbacks there - but the air was already thick with camaraderie.

There was lots of 'ooh-ing' and 'aah-ing' as we looked over what books were available. Soon it wasn't just books that we were talking about but everything under the sun.

Easing our excited selves unto chairs, we sat down to throw ideas across the room, like work-at-home options, future sessions where we could invite people to give talks on self-defense, finance management, handicraft making, drop-in centres for busy mothers with children and more. It didn't take any prompting to get our tongues wagging - the cosy cafe with us 7 ladies raised a ruckus comparable to a market place!

Soon Lisa and Poh Lin disappeared into the kitchen, only to return with platefuls of food which we all gratefully tucked into. Rina added to the day's menu with an excellent apple pie she bought from a German cafe at Jalan Ampang. Who'd have known how energy-consuming all that brain-storming would be, but it was far from over. The conversation carried over to movies, insurance, yoga, massage, rental of overhead projectors, even future trips that iaw members can organise.

Before we knew it, a good four hours had passed and we had to get down to business - the books that had brought us together in the first place.

I pounced on a couple of Calvin and Hobbes cartoons (what gems!) while the others went around looking at the kind of books available and giving each other lightning-quick reviews on the ones they had read.

Jana, a non-member who swore she would sign up as soon as she could get her hands on a PC, grabbed one book and promptly told us NOT to read it as the author painted such a demoralising picture of women in it. Choong Yee daintily picked at the books while telling us (or herself!) that she shouldn't be reading too much romance and should read more self-improvement stuff. Krista, the editor, chose three books and promised that she would lug some of hers along for the next exchange even if she had to break her back carrying it all the way from Penang.

So was it just a gathering of a group of boring bespectacled bookworms who had nothing better to do on a Saturday afternoon? Far from it! We got our books, e-vouchers, new friends, fresh ideas on life and living, a great new club ( iaw book club) and rejuvenated ourselves in our various roles as women in the 21st century.

Sometimes it's good to be reminded that the best things in life are free. Aaaah...

by Chan Li Jin
11th July 2001

Hailing from Johore but now firmly rooted in Tmn Sri Gombak, Kuala Lumpur, Chan Li Jin, a bubbly, infectious modern mum of three kids - "kids who trail me everywhere" - is a regular contributor to i-asianwomen.com. She's the number one supporter of work-at-home mummies and if plans work at the rate of her enthusiasm, i-asianwomen.com members can look forward to plenty of exciting plans in the near future!

Books, Caffeine and Art

2011-12-06T14:17:00.000+08:00

We organized our first ever book exchange and I had to fly down to KL for this event. It was fantastic meeting the women who were big fans of i-asianwomen.com and who loved books. My idea was to kickstart this book exchange and then let them KL girls run this monthly on their own. It ran for a while but soon fizzled out! What a pity. Bringing together women and books was a brilliant idea.

Kick yourself if you did not make it for the first Book Exchange on 7 July for it was a riot! Excitement, peals of laughter, spontaneous jibes, women at their best. A stranger walking in would think that we were long lost friends. Little did they know that everyone who attended the book exchange that day had just exchanged hellos and how-are-yous 10 minutes before.

The Little Cafe in Damansara Uptown was as cosy as cosy could be - think Central Perk cafe from the sitcom Friends! Only thing missing were the huge sofas.

What do you get when you put a couple of women together for an afternoon of scrumptious tuna sandwiches (courtesy of Lisa and Poh Lin who thought nothing of rolling up their sleeves, getting hot and sweaty in the kitchen to feed us ravenous ones), yummy apple pie (sponsored by dear Rina) and nonstop flow of tea and coffee?

Throw in the many, many books that were brought out for the exchange - "Memoirs of a Geisha" seemed to be the hottest book that day - and stir in the ideas (which were "flying like stray bullets" according to Li Jin) and you would have found yourself enjoying a girls-only chat session, punctuated by wicked laughter and rascally grins!

We laughed till we cried! We dissected men, we learnt about other authors (Erma Bombeck rated the highest - I presume everyone would have scooted to the nearest bookstore to get Bombeck's books!) and it dawned on us that it didn't matter if we were married, with kids, without kids, single - if we had the surging oestrogen, we shared the same worries, experiences and my god, it was completely liberating to find that other women were just like us.

It was heartwarming to come together to share ideas and discuss what we wanted to accomplish as a group. No wonder we yakked till we were hoarse and one of us even missed an important meeting with a client 'cause we were so caught up with the exciting ideas, plans and what to do for the book meet.

Come by this Saturday to exchange books. Poh Lin has not set any hard and fast rules, but one thing's for sure - you must bring your books to exchange with others (hey, it should be fair to all) and get a chum to tag along. Everyone is allowed to take home a maximum of five books and you have one month to read it from cover to cover before we meet again for the next one.

Errr.... what if you are not a bookworm? Besides books, plenty more is in store. Talks, outings (going to Ipoh for 'hor fan' or Batu Caves for a guano-filled cave climb), sharing with women, community work, movies... because we've realised that women, with or without a ring on their fourth finger, should have a firm network of girl pals. It keeps us healthier and wiser.

Don't let the men be your sole reason for living. Don't get us wrong, we love our husbands and boyfriends - but we also need space to breathe and to revel in other women's companionship. To get out of coupledom once in a while and be an individual. And exult in the joy of being a woman. Be today's Asian woman. Not yesterday's woman, or someone's wife, someone's fiancee or someone's daughter. Just be ourselves.

I hope I've tickled your palate and made you ravenous for the gathering. Here are the details.

Date: 18 August 2001(Saturday)
Time: 1pm-3pm
Venue: National Art Gallery Cafe, 2, Jalan Temerloh, Kuala Lumpur
Tel: 03 4025 4989/90

The book exchange is open to i-asianwomen.com members only. Membership is free, so you don't have to pay any fees. Activity fees and 'makan' fees, if any, would be kept to a minimum so our pockets won't run dry but we're not in it for the money. Should we make a profit, we had the unanimous vote to channel the money back to the community. Told you we were happenin'!

So, if you want to open up your life, and have an accessible group of likeminded friends who adore books, think yakking is as good a pastime as chowing down yummy food with wild abandon, then keep 18 August free.

by Krista
16th August 2001

Asian or American?

2011-11-25T20:13:00.000+08:00

A book review I did in 2001. I got to read and review Vickie Nam's book - Yell Oh Girls. It was a pleasure to read and pleasure to write about this Asian American.

Shockingly green, and yellow. Screams at you. Tempts you to pick it up, especially with its lunchbox of sushi and chopsticks on its cover. But don't let its cover beguile you into thinking this is no heavyweight.

"Yell-Oh Girls!" is Vickie Nam's "baby", so to speak. I remember interviewing her last year, asking about her anthology of emerging voices on growing up Asian American, and all the ideas that tumbled forward. She was excited. Her "baby" was coming along as scheduled, and all the hard work, the sweat were going to be worth it. The birth month? August 2001.

Tender and tough, bright and funny, Asian American girls ranging from 13 to 21 spill their innermost thoughts like never before. From all corners of America, they shared their thoughts, emailed their ideas to Vickie. And Vickie gladly sifted through them all, for this collection which was going to be, not only ground-breaking, but hardhitting and raw with much anger (yes, anger!) and honesty, as much as the Asian American girls could muster.

It's convenient to presumptuously posit that our Asian sisters over in America, good old Uncle Sam's land, have it good. I mean, that's what emigrating is all about, isn't it? Leaving the hard life in their home country and eyes, brimming with hope, shining with confidence, they step into the land of milk and Oreos. Beginning a whole new chapter of their lives, assimilating quickly and blending into a landscape of humans, and pledging their allegiance to the star-spangled banner. If only it were that cut and dried. If only Asians did not come in all shapes and sizes, or possess varied features or upbringing.

If only.

Unfortunately, when we think of America, one homogenous culture stands out. The blond, blue-eyed ideal of what an American should be. Inexplicably, we leave out the African Americans, the Asian Americans, and the others because that's too much like an advertisement for United Colours of Benetton. Despite the reality we know, that the land of the free is also a cultural melting pot of cultures, a mesh with people of many faiths, beliefs, background and inclinations. Yet, that is not what we see.

If this is not what we open our eyes to, imagine our Asian counterparts struggling with the dilemma of being either born there, or moved there at a young age. Coping, then, becomes a daily struggle. As such, these personal writings of Asian Americans prove to be an inspiring collection, as the Asian American girls are bold, proud and dynamic even when they're speaking of coping and living. Not ones to shut their mouths up, they give first-hand experiences about dual identities, cultural clashes, family matters, body image and the need to find one's voice.

Interspersed with these young girls' poignant revelations are contributions from notable Asian American women mentors such as Janice Mirikitani, Helen Zia, Nora Okja Keller, Lois-Ann Yamanaka, Elaine Kim, Patsy Mink and Wendy Mink.

What makes this collection a superb read is its outspokenness. No cover-ups, no apologies. Some of the girls are barely women, but they all have an idea that they need to be heard, to let others know that they are not what others assume they are. The titles of the writings are telling, from "Burnt Rice with Fish Sauce" to "Ginseng from Starbucks", the pages surge with a desire to be understood. It is an attempt to show mainstream America that, yes, Asian Americans do exist (they're also not all 'yellow') and they are not all slant-eyed, black-haired demure maidens who use chopsticks and wear size S clothes.

The anthology centres on the confusion that beset many Asian Americans as they straddle two cultures; their country of origin does not seem to accept them ("banana" is the derogatory term) while America hardly acknowledges their significance and birth. And so they write, rebel and say the words they've kept beneath the surface for so long.

While you may assume that a collection of experiences by Asian American girls may not touch your heart as we're poles apart, certain aspects of being Asian strike a chord.

How so? We sympathise with Carolyn Feng, 18, from California, who writes ever so candidly: "Most Chinese parents aren't very affectionate toward their children. There is no kissing, no hugging, no declarations of love. When I see Chinese parents and their children in public, I see children getting yelled at, being schooled on what to do and what not to do and being asked not to touch things."

We share too, with Kamala Nair, 19, of Rochester, Minnesota who remembers: "When I was little I used to wish I had blond hair and blue eyes. I would stand in front of the mirror with my eyes closed, hoping that if I wished long and hard enough, my skin and hair would have magically transformed when I opened them....During the day, I attended an all-white school, where I studied American history and played with all my white friends. I came home in the evening and, over a dinner table, laden heavily with spiced curries and red-hot pickles, I discussed the Bhagavad Gita with my Indian parents. At age seven, I was caught in the middle of two vastly different cultures."

We read heartfelt submissions - some are slowly embracing their cultural richness, others send messages to their family via the pen and keyboard while many actively immerse themselves into activism of a different sort - by setting up websites, and speaking out on what it means to be Asian American. Of many shapes and sizes, these girls and this anthology will, in the words of Vickie Nam, the editor, "fill pockets of possibility with brilliant ideas."

by Krista
6th September 2001

Eight Flowers On A Hill

2011-11-17T13:05:00.000+08:00

A chilling yet provocative true story by one contributor called Mrs BH Lim.

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Step by step we half-crawled and half-climbed up the steps of the gloomy cave temple. The reflected light from the flickering oil lamps cast long shadows on the steep and narrow curving steps hewn out of solid limestone rocks leading to the crest of the hill.

As we emerged into the dazzling sunlight, we came to a small, well kept temple at the top of the limestone hill. Behind the main temple was a pool where water-lilies grew, toads croaked and colorful carp fish swam lazily under the hot tropical sun. We caught our breath beneath the hardy stunted "nine o'clock tree" - so named after its inexplicable ability to emanate the most pleasant fragrance after 9 o'clock in the night. From where Elaine and I were perched, we had a panoramic view of the Kinta plains stretching as far as the eye could see.

For what seemed like an eternity, there was only the silence of the dumb between the two of us, broken only by the soft hiss of breathing. Elaine was my cousin, and I had known her since we were in kindergarten together. I knew she wanted to share something very close to her heart as I could see her transfixed in deep thought and her earlobes twitching nervously in the reflected sunlight.

Finally, she spoke: "When mother passed away four years ago, I felt the deep pain of losing her and saw the anguish on father's face. He could not sleep in the room he had shared with her for 41 years and would sit on his deck chair every night until he fell asleep from exhaustion.

"We thought, with time, he would recover. However, things got from bad to worse. The family business started to flounder because hypermarkets were mushrooming and it greatly affected our wholesale trade," she said.

Then, their youngest sister, a lecturer in a local college, suffered a nervous breakdown after becoming involved with a deviant born-again sect. The next crisis was when her elder brother developed cancer of the colon.

This was followed by a bizarre happening in the house. Handprints were found strangely embedded in the incense urn sitting on the alter. One day, Elaine's uncle came rushing to the house looking for her father. He told them that the ancestral tomb had cracked and that the back portion of the tomb had slipped down and spilled over to the adjoining tomb.

This spate of ill luck precipitated a response from their eldest aunt. She was convinced that they were no mere coincidences and that unless they got down to the root of the problem, more misfortune would dog the family. She persuaded Elaine's father to follow her to a small town near Kampar to consult a medium.

This was no ordinary medium, but one who practiced the ancient forgotten art of "Char Kang Sua" which translated literally from Hokkien, means to search one's streams and hills. To be precise, it delves into one's origins so as to determine a person's past, present and future - to search for his heritage and his destiny.

Elaine had driven her father and aunt through the winding hills before arriving at the small one horse town which had seen better times during the heyday of the tin-mining era. Now all that remained was a community of elderly folk and a very famous home-made wanton mee shop where lorry drivers would stop for their afternoon and evening snack. The most important business in the area was commercial frog rearing.

They arrived at the temple late on a Saturday afternoon and there was a crowd of approximately 20 people ahead of them. It was almost an hour and a half before their turn arrived for consultation. The medium was garbed in what looked like a long Chinese gowns used in Teochew operas to depict a courtier from the Ming dynasty era. Elaine's father softly stated his Chinese date of birth and time, as well as his age and the animal year he was born in.

Before he could finish giving his address, the medium in his deep-throated voice said:

"Eight flowers on a hill . . . six flowers bloomed . . . and two did not. Now these two are requesting for a place in the family hierarchy. If they are not given their proper place in the family, as is their destiny, then there can be no harmony and peace for all the family.

"They were denied their rightful place on earth, and though they bear you no grudge, they seek their rightful place within the family."

Elaine continued: "Father's face turned a deathly shade of pale and I could hear his breathing change to a shallow wheeze. The mole on his face quivered in the semi-darkness of the incense-filled temple hall and I knew that the medium had touched a very raw wound. I could hear father speaking . . . as the sound poured forth like the disemboweled sound from the depths of the earth: "What should I do?"

The medium swung his fly whisk like he was swinging a sword and then reached out for his pit or Chinese ink brush. He dabbed it into the inkpot and started to write vigorously on his two feet wide pre-printed yellow paper.

The medium directed: "Take this hoo or talismanic paper and then on the 9th day of the 9th moon, go to the ancestral tombs and beseech your ancestors to help you invite the two lost flowers that never had a chance to bloom. Tell them that these are the other two members of your family and that they are children number six and number seven. After making the offerings and saying prayers for their benefit, return to your home and in front of the altar, introduce them to your family and the household deity. The following day, arrange for their chosen names to be engraved on the family tombstone."

Elaine went on: "Those were the instructions of the medium. I could not understand what he had said or what he was trying to do but my father nodded his graying head, which was fast thinning on the top. Tears rolled down in rivulets along the wrinkles on his cheeks."

It was a very strained drive home back to Ipoh, where Elaine and her father lived. On the way, they dropped off their aunt and parted ways. As they drove through the streets of the leafy tree-lined town, Elaine's father said: "Only your mother and I know about this until now. You have always thought that you come from a family of six children, but there was a time after your second brother (the fifth child in the family) when your mother conceived again. It was just after the May 13th incident (racial riots) . . . there was so much uncertainty . . . we were struggling to survive and your mother and I felt that we could not afford to have another child.

"In her desperation, she sought advice from the Malay lady who used to urut(massage) her after every birth. I can still remember her face although her name escapes me. She arranged for an appointment with a well-known Pak Haji in Kampong Benggali in Selama. I hired a car for a day and drove her there.

"It was a rundown shophouse and we walked up the rickety stairs where a Malay man in his 60s was waiting. I never knew what happened as I went downstairs and walked across to the coffeshop to wait for what seemed an eternity. After two hours, your mother walked down the same rickety staircase, her hair disheveled and her face pale.

"We never spoke about what happened that day. It was only after she had to go back to that place a second time 15 months later that she told me the Pak Haji gave her a bitter, black herbal tonic to drink. After about an hour, he came back and massaged her stomach. The agonising ministrations went on and on and just when the pain got absolutely unbearable, she passed out a small bloody-looking bundle."

"Dad never finished his story after that but just maintained a stony silence," finished Elaine.

The sun was fast dropping behind the limestone outcropping as we wound our way down the steep limestone steps into the cave temple. As we passed the smiling figure of Vairocana, the Buddha of Light, I wondered to myself what secrets are hidden in our past, present and future. I can almost visualize in my mind the image of my uncle standing in front of the medium, searching for his origins or "Char Kang Sua" and hear the medium's voice saying out loud:

"Eight flowers on a hill . . . six flowers bloomed . . . and two did not."

I now understand why during the recent Cheng Beng festival, Elaine had set out two extra places at the table.

It is with the consent of my cousin, whose name and hometown have been changed, that I share this story with you.

By BH Lim
9th October, 2000

Simplify Your Life

2011-11-02T15:59:00.000+08:00

This was penned by a contributor to i-asianwomen.com called Lee Bee Doe (which I am SURE is not her real name).

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When I decided to leave regular employment to strike out on my own as an independent professional, one of the main reasons was the conviction that I wanted very much to simplify my life. I looked at the lifestyle I led then and told myself: This has to stop!

I need to take stock, lighten my baggage (emotional and physical) and renews ties with the free spirit that I had lost touch with. Just look at the sheer superfluous-ness of it all. The two cars, the fancy meals, designer labels, the Rolex. What did it really mean at the end of the day? It wasn't difficult for me to conclude that I could do less with the material trappings and more with less stress, less material belongings, better health, especially mentally, and a richer intellectual and spiritual life.

Simple living is sometimes called "downshifting." It reduces our frenzied life so that we enjoy it more fully. It means less time in an artificial environment, and more time to do the things which matter to you.

In my case, working from home gave me flexibility in the hours that I worked, and more time for my children, family and friends. It involved less shopping, less clutter, less pressure and less consumption. And usually that means being more frugal, more organised, and more efficient.

The simplicity starts from the way you wake up in the morning to the time you rest that weary head on the pillow. Breakfast need not be hurried and harried, contributing to ill-health and all manner of gastro-intestinal disorders. And eating a healthy, leisurely breakfast also means less snacking later on, which works wonderfully to keep those superfluous inches off!

The rest of the day can then start with planning what you want to achieve for that day. Different agendas for different days and of course, family figures high in them. If my children are nearing their exams, there's more time for one-on-one revision. Simply having the time to plan activities together is in itself rewarding. It gives me so much joy to see the girls glow with achievement when we spend our Saturday afternoons making a batch of recycled paper or creating origami animals for their doll house.

If a friend is unwell or in need of a shoulder to cry on, what a relief it is to be able to change gear, drop or postpone stuff and go to a pal in need. But I digress.

Simplicity frees one's mind and spirit to pay attention to what really matters. As Reverend Jesse Jackson said, "It's your presence and not your presents, that your kids want." Well, for those of you who do not have children, or for whom children and family are not your highest priority, simplifying your life can be equally meaningful. It will mean having more time and energy doing the things which you have always wanted to do: learn a new language, travel to Peru, start a herb farm. To each her own.

Of course, getting off the treadmill of regular work does mean doing without some of the things we used to take for granted. But do possessions reflect the quality of our lives? Are we happier because we have that new PDA, or the new Nike trainers, or that new 3-door fridge? Is shopping the most nurturing way to spend our increasingly limited time? How long do your new pair of Ferragamo pumps keep you happy before they get relegated to the back of the shoe cupboard?

We work our butts off, day in day out, year in year out, because we want a better life, we tell ourselves. Or a better future for our children. And so we spend 12-hour days at the office with the children at their grandparents (if you are so lucky) or with a maid. We start using e-grocery websites to shop for our essentials and literally order flowers by e-mail without taking the time to smell the roses!

Is this what life is all about? Not for me and not any more.

Perhaps you'd like to take a step back and see if your current paradigm needs to be given a good shakeup as well. Believe me, retail therapy is not effective for couples, children or families. More purchases, more packaging, more trash and more fodder for the landfill. For me now, it's less consumption, less calories, more health, more wellbeing, more time for the things that really matter to me : body, mind, spirit, family, friends (not necessarily in that order!)

by Lee Bee Doe
5th October, 2000

Eat Away The Monthly Blues

2011-10-26T14:53:00.000+08:00

This piece was written by Anne, my co-editor. She's brilliant with words. A true wordsmith to tantalize you with her irreverent descriptions of life and food. I have always been in awe of her word wizardry!

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Menstrual cramps. We women grimace and bear it . . . some more stoically than others, of course. For those who get it really bad, an addiction to that brilliant pink Panadol Menstrual tablet or the yellow-blue Ponstan capsule is perfectly understandable.

When Pre-Menstrual Syndrome (PMS) strikes, it can strike with a vengeance. Choose from a horrifying combination of irritability, insomnia, migranes, headaches, water retention, breast tenderness to downright agonising tummy cramps, and you can quite well understand why all those far from polite jokes about a PMS woman have more than a smidgen of truth in it.

If you feel that you've ingested more than your fair share of pain-killers and muscle-relaxants and you're ready for a non-chemical solution, read on. Take a peek at these Chinese system of food cures for menstrual disorders a friend swears by.

Irregular menstruation, vaginal discharge
120g lamb liver
90g chives
1 tablespoon peanut oil
light soya sauce

Cut chives and liver. Heat wok over high heat and pour oil in. Add chives and stir-fry. Add liver into wok and stir-fry again. Season with light soya sauce and cook for a few more seconds.

Excessive menstrual flow
30g black fungus
15g sugar

Fry black fungus over low heat without oil. Add one bowl of water and continue cooking. Add sugar as seasoning.
Note: This remedy is not recommended to treat excessive menstrual flow due to blood deficiency.

Menstrual pain of a cold nature
30g dried ginger
30g brown sugar
30g seeded red dates

Boil dried ginger in water together with brown sugar and red dates.

Menstrual pain due to blood coagulations (blood clots)
5g cinnamon twigs
15g hawthorn fruits
30g brown sugar
3 glasses of water

Boil cinnamon, hawthorn fruits and brown sugar in water until water is reduced by half. Add brown sugar and continue boiling for 2 minutes.

Irregular menstruation, vaginal bleeding of a hot nature
120g fresh celery
120g lotus roots
1 tablespoon peanut oil
salt

Scrape and slice celery and lotus root, place wok over high heat and pour in oil. When hot, add celery and lotus roots and stir-fry for five minutes before seasoning with salt.

Relief of suppression of menstruation
250g cuttlefish
40g fresh ginger
vegetable oil
salt

Fry cuttlefish in vegetable oil with thinly sliced ginger before seasoning with salt.

Headaches, stomach aches and general PMS symptoms
50g fresh parsley
3 cups water
1 egg
salt

Boil fresh parsley in 3 cups of water until water is reduced to 1 cup. Crack egg into boiling water (the egg will coagulate) before adding salt for seasoning.

Final words of wisdom from my au naturale friend (she makes her own soap, shampoo and skin-care products from items taken from the kitchen and fridge too!:)

"Be very persistent. Food cures show results only after about one week to a few months or even longer. If the cure proves beneficial, continue it throughout your life."

18th October 2000

Not For Me . . . Not Yet, Anyway!

2011-10-15T19:47:00.000+08:00

I wrote this piece at 26. ;-) I got married a year after and I've been happily married for 10 years now. A fun, indignant piece on how a single girl views life. A lovely "walk" down memory lane. At least for me.

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It had to happen. It was bound to happen but I had been avoiding those secret glances, those looks that went "Well . . . well . . . well . . . " and those busybodies (a.k.a people you call relatives) like the plague.

Okay, so I am not growing any younger . . . but I'm no Ally McBeal either. And unlike Ally, I have no secret hankering to get hitched. Not now, and not in the next two months either. Which brings me back to the question that everyone's asking: "So . . .(this comes with the all-knowing pause) when ARE you getting married?"

It used to be so easy when I was younger. I define younger as maybe, say, 10 years ago when I was still in school and my dreams of boys were fueled by Judy Blume books. I was gradually weaned from Blume to Kathleen Woodiwiss whose swooning heroines always fell gracefully into the arms of the Hunk. The Hunk would be tall, dark and handsome and our idea of THE MAN was a man with a chestful of hair and that was our personal heaven.

But you should have heard the philosophy of my parents then. No, they would say, concentrate on your studies and study hard. Get a good education and then you can think about boys. So we were all goodie-two-shoes who dutifully went to school, mugged like hell and scored at exams. All because we had to carry out our filial duties before we 'did' other wayward things.

Then came university. People like me discovered a few things about university that Form Six teachers never mentioned. You could cause a riot in varsity if :
a) you left home for a far-off university (far-off means any university which was NOT in your home state) and
b) suddenly served with all this freedom to do as you please without having to answer to your parents, and, best of all
c) could date any guy you wished

Sadly, conditions a), b) and c) were valid if university was teeming with hunks. During my four-year course, the guys in my classes were not the type you could imagine French kissing, what more dating! And all of a sudden, parents begin dropping hints when you go home for the semester holidays. Do you have a boyfriend? Why don't you bring some nice boys home?

And finally when you do get a boyfriend, you see the relief written all over their faces. Fast forward a few years - you graduate, get a job, and still date the same guy. Now they start worrying - they worry, especially when your third cousin is getting married and she's younger than you or when the wedding invites start flying about during 'wedding season' and you attend weddings of people you know and the other people you don't know start asking about YOUR big day. That's when all the fun starts.

All of us get curious and uncomfy if one doesn't exhibit the normal desire to get married, especially if they are of suitable, marriageable age (this can be anywhere between 20 and 35).

Okay, I admit I am that type - the unconventional female whose marrying instincts haven't kicked in yet. Being dewy-eyed and swooning at the M word is as alien to me as eating sago worms in the jungles of Sarawak. And yes, I am proud to say that I am still holding out and haven't bowed to pressure.

Mum bugs me each time she sees me (about once every three months) and if her nagging doesn't work, she bugs Dad to 'advise' me. My aunts and uncles cannot understand why I refuse to get hitched. And I irritate half of them by answering, "Who? Me? But I'm only 26!" And they are flabbergasted - they have no reply to that!

But me, I'm not doing it yet because basically I enjoy my freedom. Besides, I'm NOT everybody . . .

Selamat Hari Raya Aidilfitri

2010-03-15T17:53:00.000+08:00

Hari Raya Aidilfitri ... I remember those times. Growing up in a predominantly Malay community, celebrating Hari Raya Aidilfitri meant the roly-poly 'Makcik' from two houses away would give us lots of 'kuih batang buruk', 'kuih bahulu', 'ketupat' and the yummy beef 'rendang' on the first day of Raya itself.

Since moving away about seven years ago, I missed the Malay experience, and I am wont to appreciate more the essence of celebrating Raya. In those days, dressed in a 'baju kurung', I would visit my friends and spend the day just renewing ties and getting full from the kuih and rendang.

Mum would take a rest from cooking on major festivals such as Christmas, Hari Raya, Deepavali because in the town where we lived, we would be invited to all the open houses we could go to - which ranged from eight to 10 open houses per festival! From morning till night, we would all be busy and out of the house - visiting friends and tasting all the different curries and rendang and holiday cookies. At times we even had house deliveries - dad's Malay friends who had to pack up and 'balik kampung' would send us some lemang and Raya snacks - to compensate for not holding their 'rumah terbuka' that year.

As a child, I even sang along with those Hari Raya ditties they play on the TV and radio.

But here in the city, it is far more difficult to find a Malay friend as all my friends are back in the small town where I had many happy memories. Even if I could find a Malay family to visit here, chances are they will be going back to their hometown. This festival gaiety is lost in the mad rush to 'balik kampung' and the city is a deserted ghost town come Raya. One smart-aleck friend once remarked that "you could have a tea party in the middle of a KL road (during major festivals like Hari Raya)".

As a child, Norashikin Ali never truly appreciated Raya. She says, "As an adult now, I understand better what Raya actually means and I know how to celebrate it better according to Islamic practices. When I was a kid, I thought Raya is something that happens after fasting. Other than that I always thought it was about new clothes and money." This year, she is really looking forward to the long one-week holiday.

Norashikin Ali - who studies at Universiti Tenaga and professes a love for 'biskut arab' - recalls that her Raya routine meant "waking up early in the morning, getting dressed up in new 'baju kurung', welcoming visitors to our home and collecting 'duit raya'."

"When I was a student in the USA, things were different. I had to attend classes (on Hari Raya day)," she says.

She remembers that the Malaysian Muslims prayed together with Muslims of other countries. "Later that day, we had a simple feast which included rendang which we made ourselves and some cookies. That evening we organised a barbecue with the Arabs who lived there. We Malaysians cooked satay!"

This year, Norashikin will be celebrating Hari Raya in her hometown in Perlis with friends and family. "In the morning we will eat first before we leave for prayers. Then we will drop by to visit friends and relatives," she says, her excitement mounting at the thought of seeing her loved ones.

Among her list of must-do for Raya is preparing ketupat and rendang and visiting friends and relatives.

Pensively, Norashikin remembers that last year was more poignant as it was the last time she celebrated Raya with her mother. "Now she is no longer in this world, I celebrate with my siblings which is quite different. I'm more concerned with visiting relatives while my sisters would rather watch TV and stay at home." With a sisterly shake of her head, she adds that watching TV is not at all what Raya is supposed to be.

For Norashikin, celebrating Raya twice in a year is no big deal. She concludes, "What is more important is how we really make fasting and Raya a more rewarding and blessed (experience)."

Ahmad Taufaik, a thirtysomething teacher who lives in Alor Setar, celebrates Hari Raya with a childlike happiness as he says "It means that my fasting was a success!"

He recalls, "The best memories of Raya is having chicken for the big day as we were very poor in those days and Hari Raya was the one day that we could eat something other than kembung or salted fish."

"In those days when we got 20 sen (for duit raya), it would be too much (money). Nowadays (to the kids) RM5 duit raya means nothing," he laments. Other than that, he says that his favourite Raya delicacy is 'kuih cha', presumably a Penang favourite as his hometown is Penang. He adds almost conspiratorally, "Only my mum knows how to make 'kuih cha'."

His Raya routine is an early morning wake-up call for 'sembahyang subuh' then proceed to the nearest mosque, resplendent in his new Raya clothes, for special Raya prayers. Since his daughter's passing last year, he makes it a point to stop by the cemetery.

As for Raya celebration these days, he echoes Norashikin's grouse. He grumbles that television seems to be the main source of enjoyment for the younger generation. He says, "Those days we would go around the neighbourhood visiting friends and having fun outdoors."

Whether you are reminiscing about the good Raya days of yore or enjoying today's celebration, i-asianwomen.com wishes all our Muslim friends a Selamat Hari Raya Aidilfitri!

by Krista
27th December 2000

The Day She Ended Her Life

2010-03-10T13:51:00.000+08:00

Bright, vivacious and most likely to be voted "Most Popular Student of the Year", Deena was every lecturer's dream come true. Deena was independent, self-assured and well-liked. As cliche as it may sound, she was all of grace and charm at 22 years of ge. She wasn't gorgeous but she possessed a pleasant, attractive face with mischievous, sparkling eyes, and that in itself endeared her to many.

If you looked deeper though you would notice that she was haunted by her illustrious, academic past. Deena was, what everyone called, a 'second-timer' - a term varsity-mates coined for her. She wasn't just fresh out of Form Six, she had arrived at this varsity after taking up medical school for a year in a prestigious, local varsity. Friendship had its limits so we were polite enough not to prod too much into her past - especially when Deena was so bubbly - we figured, "Why foment sad memories?"

Simply put, we never uncovered the truth; we heard fragments of so-called "truth" embellished in its own controversy. One of her close friends, Lisa, explained that Deena deplored medical school as it was a constant pressure cooker. She could not wait to complete her compulsory first year so that she could switch courses and varsity. While she must have known that the rumours ('why give up a glamorous career in medicine?' most wondered) were flying fast and furious, Deena did not deny them nor did she proffer any explanation. She acted as if she did not care.

Despite the rumours, she was highly-popular. Her gaeity proved infectious - she could whirl into any room and brighten it with her presence. Fellow students and lecturers laughed when she made witty remarks and our tutorials seemed less humdrum whenever she turned up. It was no surprise then that one or two lecturers claimed her as their favourite student.

No one questioned why she seemed so chatty and bubbly. Was she depressed? Who knew? We were too caught up in our own lives that we noticed not the small silences or the pregnant looks she'd shoot us sometimes.

Once or twice she'd excuse herself from joining our activities and outings. She'd say she was tied up; that was one thing we'd never doubt. Everyone knew she was a busy undergrad, and busy with both studies and activities. If she was not the president of Economics Society, she was the treasurer of the Archery Club. It was simply amazing that she could juggle her extra curricular activities, cram in her studying, get all A's plus still have an active social life!

Although intensely private (we never heard her speak of her family or her previous friends), in rare and surprising moments Deena would give us an insight or two into her relationship with her boyfriend, KC, who was studying in Britain. Green-eyed monsters we'd be whenever we heard that KC sent her roses for birthday, Valentine and anniversary. Deena would shrug it off nonchalantly when we sighed with envy over her blooms. Some girls had all the luck!

So her disappearance in the middle of the first semester of our second year caught us by surprise. On a hot, searing August day, she just took off on her trusty Honda C70. No message, no byes. Initially, Sue, Deena's roommate, said it was perfectly understandable - after all Deena had always been independent and would go wherever she pleased. Being absent from tutorials and lectures was no big deal as we assumed she had a 'bout of homesickness and took off for home in Taiping. It was, after all, nearing study week - a time when undergraduates returned home for a one-week rest before the frenzied three-week university exams began.

Sujata was the one who dropped the bombshell that blistering Thursday in the crowded campus cafeteria. Vividly, I recalled her face - with fear written all over it - as she asked, "Do you know what happened to Deena?" The urgency in her voice was hard to miss; before I answered, she blurted out the whole story: Deena had been found dead, sprawled in a hotel bathroom. She had overdosed on paracetamol!

In movies, this would be the precise moment when the scene hangs in mid-air or it would be one played in slow motion. Time froze. The heat seered, my stomach lurched and the cafeteria was buzzing with chatter, laughter and noises. In the midst of all this, one fact burned in my mind: Deena dead?! "Are you sure?" Sujata nodded. "It can't be," - I told myself - "it's too unreal!"

Rushing to the faculty, I took in the growing crowd of friends and lecturers who were whispering. Some coursemates were sobbing. One of my lecturers had gone to identify the body. Apparently, Deena had booked into a hotel room for the night but when she did not check out the next day, the hotel management decided to investigate. When the staff broke the lock, she had already been cold for a few hours. Dead.

It's sad that unpalatable truths start tumbling out when a person passes away. In the suicide note that Deena wrote to her family, she regretted that she had been forced to excel in her studies by an academically-inclined family; how she had been pressured again and again for not doing medicine and how she received no sympathy from her boyfriend. Underlying the letter was the desolate cry that no one, no one understood her.

Her death shook us up - the happiness, success and love we witnessed fell away. They built a facade that hid a lonely and frightened girl of 22. She wanted to be accepted and loved minus the pressure and stress. Personally, we were guilty as we began to ask ourselves, "How much did we really know her?" Her family did not offer any explanation; perhaps none were necessary because even they, her closest, were at loss to begin. We shied away from the funeral as the family requested a private mourning.

Today, five years after Deena took her own life, I still mourn her untimely death. As friends, we suppressed our feelings and thoughts; no one discussed their feelings to her passing though everyone spoke about the tragic death. If anyone needed counselling, it should be us. "Would she still be alive if we had played a more active role as her friends instead of standing at the sidelines as spectators?" I berate myself time and again.

The answer still eludes me. Nevertheless, two years after her passing, I had a dream. Deena was in my dream and we were rushing like kids into an old, rickety bus; we were going for a picnic. In my dream, she was the laughing, bubbly child of the sun, all smiles with her deep dimples showing.

May peace be with you, Deena.

Friends who commit suicide. It's taboo but we have come across friends or even ourselves who tried to do it or contemplated it when we were truly desperate. Share those feelings with us at theeditor@i-asianwomen.com or drop by Say Your Piece.

by Krista
8th February 2001

Marriage of Spirits

2010-02-28T15:45:00.000+08:00

"It's true," she rasped. Small and hunched, she had small eyes, short, frizzed white hair, and plenty of wrinkled, loose skin set in a typical Chinese face.

Ah-Sum, that's what I called her. She has forgotten many things in her life - she cannot remember when she was born nor who brought her to this old folks' home. Despite this forgetfulness, Ah-Sum did not show signs of senility - I believed that her mind was still agile for a 60-year old woman. If she was senile, how do you account for her insightful and colourful stories? The story she had just recounted had an air of incredulity about it - and with the sunlight streaming in through the open louvred windows, I had a difficult time reconciling with stories about spirits.

"My dear, it truly happened," she sighed. In mock exasperation, Ah-Sum pushed my hands away and ordered, "Go home, you little girl. You must be tired after hearing an old woman ramble like this. Come again next week."

Visiting Ah-Sum has been a weekly ritual for me although Sam Pak (or Third Uncle) passed away last January. I used to visit Sam-Pak and at the same time, talk to this chatty woman who claimed to be Sam-Pak's best friend.

Sam-Pak used to be annoyed with her - he used to say, "My niece is here to visit me and not talk to you. Why are you so noisy?" Ah-Sum would flash a toothy grin and keep quiet for all of five minutes before she dragged me to her side and began her story sessions.

Of her many stories, this one lodged in my mind because it seemed so farfetched.

Ah-Sum said she was about eight years old when she witnessed extensive preparations for a traditional Chinese wedding at the shophouse. In those times, weddings were happy occasions with lots of goodies to eat. She was as excited as everyone in her grandfather's shop.

Ah-Sum's father ran a tailoring business which had been handed down from her grandfather, a serious, no-nonsense tailor who expertly fashioned blazers and coats for the British soldiers stationed in Penang.

But the chief controller of this flourishing family business was her grandmother. A woman who rarely smiled and rarely spoke to anyone in the ancestral home, preferring to bark her orders from her room upstairs. It was whispered in the servants' circles that her grandmother was extremely wealthy. It was this wealth that set Ah-Sum's grandfather in his tailoring business. But, of course, no one dared ask grandfather. With his booming voice and piercing stare, he could silence one with a swift glance.

In those days, they were considered well-to-do as grandfather's business employed more than five people who helped cut, sew and tailor coats. It was a huge family and Ah-Sum remembered that they even employed a cook and three servants.

With four sons and a daughter, her grandfather was the grand partriach of the Lee family. Ah-Sum recounted that her father was the eldest son. Her Third and Fifith Uncle were married and each had children. It was an unspoken rule that everyone must live in the large, traditional shophouse.

"We squeezed into three rooms upstairs and my brothers had to sleep downstairs, wherever they found a place to open up their collapsible beds," Ah-Sum said. Ah-Sum said that she had four brothers and two elder sisters while Third Uncle had four children. Fifth Uncle, fortunately, had only two sons. The tailoring business was shared among the partriach's three sons.

"Fourth Uncle had passed away even before we children were born. He was then a child, about seven or eight years old. Sometimes, my eldest brother with his 'ying' eyes would be able to see Fourth Uncle in grandmother's room."
"Just before the Chinese All Souls' Day, Fourth Uncle appeared in my father's dream one night. In the dream, he said that while in the underworld, he fell in love with a girl and would my father please relay this message to my grandfather? He needed permission to marry."

"My father was disturbed by this dream as he had been about twelve years old when his younger brother died of high fever. He half-heartedly believed his dream and did not want to burden his father, who was then 68, with this dream. In time, he forgot about it.

"But the dream persisted. My father would dream the same dream every night and he began to feel uncomfortable. Finally, he asked mother for advice. Talk to grandfather, mother urged. Ghosts must be appeased or they will remain unhappy. Unhappy ancestral spirits did not augur well for family health and business."

Knowing that grandfather was a strict disciplinarian who tolerated nothing, Ah-Sum's father - armed with a heavy heart - approached the family partriach with trepidation. Fearful that he would be reproached, he was taken back when grandfather, after listening intently to the story, nodded and instructed that if Fourth Uncle appeared again in father's dream, he must tell Fourth Uncle that he had his permission to marry. Grandfather also reminded father to ask Fourth Uncle about the girl.

That fateful night, Fourth Uncle appeared in father's dream; this time he seemed calmer. He needed Ah-Sum's father to find the girl's relatives and deliver the marriage proposal.

In truth, Ah-Sum's father did not quite believe this eerie turn of events. Nevertheless he set about tracking the girl's family, who incidentally lived not too far away. They had a large sundry shop and were merchants of Chinese dried goods. They, too, were visited by the ghost of their youngest daughter (who had also passed away as a child) who informed them that on such and such a day, the Lee family would bring them a marriage proposal.

So imagine the family's surprise when Ah-Sum's father, her uncles and grandfather turned up on their doorstep, bearing a marriage proposal! The girl's family, too, were shocked that their deceased daughter described the events with such accuracy. Indeed, the lovelorn couple had met in the underworld. This was confirmed by a temple medium that both families sought.
At the same time, an auspicious date for the wedding was picked.

From that moment onwards, the two Cantonese families who had never met nor heard of each other if not for their 'ghostly ties' busied themselves preparing for the wedding. It was a first for both parties - both had never organised a ghost wedding. Quite rightly, the medium helped with the arduous preparations.

Ah-Sum recalled being awed by the two life-sized bamboo-and-paper dolls - one male and one female, resplendent in their wedding finery, sitting on opposite sides of the wedding dias. With benign expressions, the dolls looked almost real. Plates of real food - fruits, pink turtle-shaped buns, sweets, roast pig and other meats were carefully placed on a long table. The table also displayed a joss urn and red candles. Chinese joss paper and 'gold' were piled high - no doubt dowry for the bride in the underworld. There were also 'gold jewellery' and 'cosmetic' as well as slippers and clothes for the newly-wed couple. In many ways, it was a real wedding - with real guests and relatives.

An invited medium performed the complicated ceremony, full of incantations and blessings. The robed medium then burned joss paper and cajoled the ghost couple to partake in the feast that had been lovingly prepared.

With his newly-married bride, Fourth Uncle offered tea (through the medium) to their elders for good blessings and fortune in the traditional tea ceremony! The laborious wedding ceremony ended some two hours later, with everyone sitting down to a wedding meal. By a strange twist of fate, Ah-Sum's family and the girl's family were suddenly thrown together as relatives!

While the wedding was pronounced a success; the medium conveyed that the couple wished for a child to make their 'married life' complete. A child who would 'take care' of them - sweep their graves and pray for them come each Ching Ming. The medium approached Ah-Sum's father to find a solution to this predicament.

After much agonizing and family discussion, finally, Ah-Sum's father promised that should his wife give birth, the child will be 'given' to the ghost couple. And so it came to be that Ah-Sum's younger brother became Fourth Uncle's 'son'. Ah-Sum's younger brother was 'handed over' in an elaborate and colourful ceremony to the ghost couple when he reached one.

According to Ah-Sum, her brother visits his maternal relatives each Chinese New Year and Ching Ming (Chinese All Souls' Day). As a filial son, he also visits his 'parents' grave during these Chinese festivals and keeps the graves clean and tidy.

"But he is getting old and his children take over his responsibilities. They make a fuss about visiting the graves and the immediate relatives but somehow or another, they have to continue this family tradition," Ah-Sum said.

"I know this sounds unbelievable especially today when ghosts and spirits aren't real to you young people any more. But this ghost lovestory is true, eerie and strange it may be. After I witnessed the ghost wedding in its splendour, I have always been a believer."

by Krista
14th November 2000

Farrah Sa'adullah... The Child Pianist

2010-02-22T15:34:00.003+08:00

Thanks to web archives, I can still find some of my old articles. It's quite nostalgic considering the website (i-asianwomen.com) has long been gone. If you are wondering why I am digging up my old articles to put on this blog, the entire story is here.

Here's one article (made up of 2 parts) about a talented pianist called Farah. I interviewed her via email. She was just a girl when I interviewed her but she's probably a young lady now. Her story is also interesting in that it was a dream that spurred Farah, a child of mixed parentage, to take up the piano. And like all prodigies, her story reflects how awesome this world really is!

I've been so privileged to meet, interview and talk to countless people when I was the editor of i-asianwomen.com.

===============================================================

Farrah Sa'adullah... The Child Pianist (Part 1)

Born in Sydney on Australia Day (which coincidentally, was also Chinese New Year's Eve) in 1990, Farrah was always a settled and calm baby. Her dad, Alwi Sa'adullah and mum, Susan Au, attribute her gentle temperament to the 1920s 'keronchong' music which was played in their house before Farrah was born. Both Alwi and Susan - from Singapore - have been living in Australia since 1980s.

Her dad recounts Farrah's keen interest in music which began when she was three.

Farrah Sa'adullah....Following her many successes in eisteddfods at such a tender age, the Sydney Morning Herald did a special feature in June 1995 and called her a child prodigy.

"We were browsing at Braschs (a shop selling musical and electronic equipment, music books and CDs) when Farrah said she wanted to play the piano. We eventually bought one for her."

Strangely, Farrah was relunctant to touch the piano for three months - it seems she was waiting for a teacher. Both Alwi and Susan could not guide their daughter as Susan used to play the organ while Alwi did not have any musical experience. So began the search for Farrah's piano teacher.

"After ringing around for a teacher, we found one close enough to our home. We wanted her to learn the traditional method, but the teachers we contacted all declined, saying she was too young," Alwi says.

Luckily for Farrah, her parents then learned about the Suzuki method, which caters for younger children.

Farrah's musical foray began at three years and 10 months when she was coached by Ms Itsuko Bara, a Japanese music teacher who was sent to Australia to promote the Suzuki method.

Says Alwi proudly, "One month later she performed at a concert, playing a twinkle variation. Her talent was quickly recognised by some of the audience who said she had strong fingers." Some of them even remarked that Farrah would be in the Conservatorium by 12. Seven years later, their prediction seems spot-on as it seems she will be there at 12!

After two months of lessons, Farrah began playing with two hands and could pick up a piece from any bar or note. At four and a half years, she performed at the Sydney Town Hall, playing Ecossaise by Hummel at the Suzuki Showcase Concert. Some teachers said that she produced excellent tone, with remarkable contrast. Ms Itsuko Bara told her delighted parents that Farrah "is full of music."

Past Knowledge of Music

Alwi and Susan then met a widely-travelled Jewish concert pianist cum teacher, Ms Zohara Rotem who noted that Farrah played with a tone that a six month student at that age could not possibly produce. At this point, she indicated that Farrah must have possessed some past musical knowledge - one of her students claimed that he played with Beethoven "in his previous life". Ms Rotem believed that Farrah was Chopin.

"After this chance meeting with Ms Rotem, a number of unusual things happened," Susan remembers.

"Farrah used to play long pieces on the piano by herself. She told us that the pieces had three movements and gave them names that were unknown to us. This stopped when we asked her to play her teacher's pieces rather than 'nonsense'. We did not listen to classical music until Farrah started playing. Had we known about classical music we could have understood what she was saying. Today we only have one of her compositions which she played at four. This we will treasure and one day get her to edit it."

Another mystifying occurrence happened soon after. One evening Farrah approached Alwi and proclaimed, "I was an artiste."

"When her Dad asked her 'What do you mean?', she replied 'I compose and I play'. Dad then asked her 'When?' and she replied: 'A long long time ago.' Following this, on numerous occasions, she told us that 'her father died a long time ago.' Before Farrah was born, Alwi's sister, Tijah, said she dreamt Farrah came to her and said she was a composer. If this is to be true, we await to see her talent in composition. Recently she completed the first movement of a sonata. It sounds good so far," Susan discloses.

Besides this, there were also incidents where Susan and Alwi would see Farrah wake up in the middle of the night and her hands would emulate piano movements.

Alwi says: "In the morning when we told her what we saw, she replied, unhesitatingly: 'X came to teach me. So you met him?' However, we've decided not to disclose the name of the mysterious teacher who came to teach her."

Soon after, Susan and Alwi bought her a book on this composer. They showed her the pictures in the book and surprisingly, Farrah could describe to them that "there was a door there", and "when visitors came they sat in the other room". She also identified the piano she had played. For one of the pieces she was playing, she told them that someone had changed the original composition.

Just as suddenly as they began, Farrah's extraordinary episodes ended when she turned five.

Winning Eisteddfods at Four

As early as four, she began winning first prizes at eisteddfods. In one eisteddfod, Farrah emerged first in the category meant for seven-year-olds. Dr Nikoloi Sokolov, one of Farrah's teachers, compared Farrah to the late world famous concert pianist Vladimir Horowitz; he declared that when Farrah plays, the piano 'sings'!

When Farrah was performing at another eisteddfod at five, the adjudicator said that Farrah's rendition of 'Wild Rider' was the best he had heard in his lifetime as an AMEB (Australian Music Examinations Board) examiner. She also played 'Wild Rider' in a special live broadcast for 2MBS-FM radio station at five.

At another eisteddfod, an adjudicator was so moved that he almost cried upon hearing Farrah play the piu mosso in Chopin's Valse 64 No 2.

At the Suzuki Graduation Concert, her first public concert at the Sydney Opera House, when she was five, Farrah played JS Bach's Gigue from Partita in B flat. The capacity crowd gave her thunderous applause; they had never witnessed such a young girl playing such a difficult piece.

At six, she could play from memory all three movements from three Mozart sonatas K545, K330 and K331 in one sitting. Her performance of Rondo Ala Turca at the Australian Musician Academy Christmas Concert attracted much favourable comments. Farrah also sight read and memorised JSBach's Italian Concerto (2nd movement) in a day.

Farrah won the trophy for the 'Most Promising Instrumentalist' when she was seven. The adjudicator, after seeing her handling of Grade 8 AMEB and above level pieces, decided to present her the trophy on the first day of the eisteddfod itself! The trophy, donated by Ronald MacDonald, is usually awarded to the winner in the Open Championship.

She was also selected to perform at the Sydney Opera House, this time playing the third movement of Bach's Italian Concerto. When she finished, thunderous applause, lasting for more than a minute, filled the hall!

Farrah continued to win many other eisteddfods. Susan recounts, "In another eisteddfod, the adjudicator congratulated us and advised us on her future. She said Farrah's talent is rare."

Susan continues, "We met Professor Kyunghee Lee from the Australian International Conservatorium of Music who found that Farrah had perfect pitch and a mature understanding of music. She said Farrah was godsend after hearing her play the complete Mozart Sonata K331 from memory."

Following her many successes in eisteddfods at such a tender age, the Sydney Morning Herald did a special feature on Farrah in June 1995 and called her a child prodigy. The reporter had earlier heard her play Mozart's minuets and was impressed with the ease and feeling Farrah displayed in those pieces. The Inner Western Courier newspaper featured her when she was six, again calling her a child prodigy; and at eight, calling her Miss Chopin.

When Farrah performed at the Italian Song Festival at nine, the Italian magazine 'SonoSiamo' reported: "Little Farrah amazed the audience the night of the festival when her little fingers danced upon the keys of the piano. It was marvellous experience to listen to the sounds of the pieces Farrah was playing. Each piece more perfect than the other. It is truly astonishing to see such a young child being able to play such complex pieces that it melted the hearts of the listeners! Farrah is a rare child who exceeds the limits of talent!"

Not only is Farrah a musical genius, she is also academically outstanding. She obtained distinctions in Mathematics and English in 1999 and 2000 Competitions. She was the only one from her school to be selected for Opportunity Class, Year 5 (Year 2000) at a gifted school.(Opportunity Classes are for academically-gifted and talented students.) Besides playing the piano, Farrah also plays the violin and sings.

Dr Nikoloi Sokolov, one of Farrah's teachers, compared Farrah to the late world famous concert pianist Vladimir Horowitz; he declared that when Farrah plays, the piano 'sings'!

by Krista
27th November 2000

Crafting Her Way to Success

2007-08-20T17:09:00.000+08:00

I interviewed Jo many years back and I still keep in touch with her. She has moved house (and therefore, location of business) but fear not, she is still around the Tanjung Bungah area. She sells once in a while at the Little Penang Street market (last Sunday of each month, Upper Penang Road in front of the E&O Hotel). I even took one of her teddy bear making classes with 2 friends and we really loved the class. I managed to make one-of-a-kind teddy bears for friends and families as personalised gifts! She also sells American cotton (which one can hardly find in Penang).

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"I used to dislike Home Science!"

Josephine Yeoh-Khoo declares with an impish grin on her face.

"Really! I didn't even know the proper way to do cross-stitch."

She has definitely come a long way from not knowing much or liking home science to running her own craft shop today.

Her friendliness makes you feel at ease immediately and the way she describes crafting urges you to give the various craft classes a try.

It was a balmy morning, just after a light drizzle when I stepped into Josephine's home. Her home, in Tanjung Bungah, Penang is also her business shop front, First Steps.

Josephine or simply known as Jo is also a full-time mum to three young children, with ages ranging from four to nine.

First Steps is her craft shop cum workshop and carries imported sewing materials such as silk ribbons, laces, American cotton, glass paints besides offering a selection of imported sewing kits for cross-stitch, long-stitch and needlepoint from the US and Germany.

Jo says that she also has an array of ready made and imported gifts for special occasions like baby showers, weddings, birthdays, anniversaries; in short, gifts that are personalised and one of a kind.

First Steps also takes orders for making gifts, handsewn quilted patchwork, embroidered curtains, baby quilts and blankets.

"I also conduct workshops on patchwork, quilting, paper clay modelling, embroidery, applique, glass painting and candle making," she adds.

Folk art and furniture painting classes are also offered.

Taking the first step

Her business began last year in June when she decided to turn her interest and hobby for crafting into something more.

Jo noted that more and more people were interested in crafting, and not just any crafting, mind you. Crochet and knitting were hobbies you could pick up at your neighbourhood haberdashery but somehow, for those who yearned to learn crafts like candle-making, glass painting and paper-clay modelling, where would one go, especially in Penang?

These crafts, Jo says, are popular in Kuala Lumpur but in Penang, she knew of no one who conducted these workshops.

Her shop in Tanjung Bungah (just a stone's throw away from the Tunku Abdul Rahman College in Vale of Tempe) is open from 9.30am to 3pm from Mondays to Fridays, and she runs the shop herself, with the exception of a part-time helper who holds the fort whenever Jo needs to dash out to pick up her children from school and run small errands. (For working women who would like to join her classes, Jo does open up special Saturday classes.)

Her place also doubles up as a club house of sorts for many women, many of whom first step into her shop as customers but later become fast friends.

"Women are really helpful...they'll come in as customers and in five minutes we'll be chatting away like old friends, offering help and all that," Jo says. Our interview was interrupted a few times by calls from well-meaning friends who had ideas or recommendations for Jo.

"I conduct small classes for women, usually in the mornings and I ensure at least they come here to relax and chat while they learn crafts like quilting," Jo explains.

Learn to make these bears at Jo's workshops!

She tries to arrange her craft sessions in a way that women would be able to finish them in one sitting at her shop.

She strongly believes that crafting should be pleasurable and stress-free so while she hopes her students (comprising mainly of homemakers) would be able to take home and complete their craft, she also makes it a point to tell them that it's okay if they don't.

"Many women would take it home (to complete) but with all the chores to do, they simply don't have time. If they cannot finish it in one sitting, they are welcome to come back here to complete them," Jo smiles.

Must I know the basics?

Besides getting worried looks from customers, Jo often hears embarrassed confessions that they do not know how to sew!

"They tell me in all earnestness. In quilting for example, they admit they don't know how to thread a needle, much less sew!"

Jo allays their fears - her classes teach one the very basics about sewing. Even those who have never held a needle in their life would be able to hold up a piece of commendable work in no time!

With a twinkle in her eye, Jo says, "The reason you come to my classes is to relax and get all your stress out." Being stressed about sewing isn't going to help at all. She keeps her classes easy, fun and completely stress-free.

"The main thing is that, when you complete say a quilt or a cross-stitch design by yourself, you feel this sense of accomplishment that's really hard to define. You're so proud of yourself."

Jo calls her classes sharing sessions as she maintains that she is always learning and sharing with her customers. Take quilting for instance. One of her customers discovered that one could draw proper squares on cloth without any more slipping or sliding simply by placing the cloth on sandpaper!

Her classes are usually small and personal, and you may just find yourself sitting at her craft table, downing pots of strawberry tea, and chatting away as you learn the finer points of crafting!

Pricing, Jo says, is kept to a minimum and range from RM50 to RM130. Those who sign up for her classes are usually supplied with all the materials needed so students just need to turn up on the day of the class.

Prices, however, vary according to the type of crafts. "Quilting is slightly more expensive as I use American cotton," she says.

Ever willing to share, Jo also helps her friends sell some of their wares - such as little girls' frocks, educational toys, and handicrafts.

First Steps
Tel: 04 890 5000 Fax: 04 890 6980
Email: firststepsmy@yahoo.com

by krista
8th May 2002

Work 'n Play

2007-08-20T17:06:00.001+08:00

Updated news - 24 Sept 2007: Jo has successfully grown her business into a full-fledge shop and no longer operates out of her home. She now offers more toys and learning items at her shop on 56, Lorong Selamat, Penang. Learn more about Jo and Precious Ones via her website, www.preciousones.com

A serendipitous turn of events.

A desire to give her boys more than just the run-of-the-mill toy guns and trucks.

A business born out of a sheer passion to help other parents educate their children.

Josephine Yoong is a young mother of two active boys, three year old Micheal and two year old John. Josephine or fondly known as Jo, runs her home-based educational toys business from her home in tranquil Pulau Tikus, Penang.

How she jumped into this business was something even she did not anticipate.

"I was eight months pregnant with my first child and I was looking for flash cards for him. Flash cards were found everywhere in Kuala Lumpur but I could find nothing over here in Penang."

She began her arduous search, and got down to discussing with her Penang friends about getting these educational materials (which she had seen in many places back in her hometown, Kuala Lumpur).

Many directed her to Nurture Craft, where she was delighted with many of her finds there.

"When the owner started a division on baby flash cards, I worked together with him on it. When he eventually decided to close it, he asked me if I wanted to take over but I declined," says Jo.

Yet Jo knew the market was ripe for such a business and she felt she could share this passion with other parents. With her husband's support, Jo began selling the educational toys right from her spacious apartment. Precious Ones had begun!

Stimulating Young Minds

She believes that toys are an indispensable part of childhood and many an indulgent aunt or uncle or parent would be ever generous to buy toys for Junior.

She adds that many well-educated middle-income parents these days were on the search for toys that combined creative play with education, and toys that were long-lasting and produced with children in mind.

Says Jo, "The right toys at the right time will enrich any child's play experience and provide the foundation for learning."

With the right toy, coupled with a child's natural curiosity and interest in the world around them, would transform them into eager learners. Well-planned toys can develop children's thinking skills and sense of logic.

She usually sells to friends and those who hear of her through word of mouth. Since Jo attends playgroups and baby groups with her sons, her friends become potential customers!

"They usually get in touch with me whenever they want something more educational and stimulating for their children or their friends' newborn."

Over the four and a half years that she has been in Penang, Jo, has seen her clientele of parents and excited children extend beyond those that she knows.

She's one enterprising lady as she directly contacts the local suppliers of the toys and she's always on the look out for newer and better toys. She recalled her excitement at finding a Vietnamese woman who could supply her with toys made of good quality wood. She was equally amazed no one had heard of the Vietnamese toys!

Her boys usually get to "test" out the products and that's one of the perks her boys love, Jo says, of mummy selling toys.

Jo also picks days to set up her 'open day' home shop so that she can invite interested parents and show them her toys and educational materials. Last December, Jo was super pleased that her one-day home shop drew the crowds of parents like no other. In one morning, she had sold almost all of her stock.

Sharing with Other Mums

Friends too get to share in Jo's enthusiasm for the business. She smiles as she tells the tale of how one mother, after buying her toys, decided to take some down to Melaka during Chinese New Year to introduce them to her relatives. As her relatives and their friends oohed and aahed over the ingenuity of the toys, she managed to sell them her 'samples' and made a tidy profit. Now this friend is thinking of getting supplies from Jo to begin her own home-based business in Sungai Petani, Kedah.

Jo believes that a good toy is safe, durable, fun to use, interesting to the child, encourages inquisitiveness and resourcefulness and involves parent-child interaction.

Her products teach young ones about sounds, as the soft books (made of cloth and other material) emit sounds that usually captivate children and encourage them to explore. Others are tactile, encouraging the toddler to touch them and feel their texture.

Jo recounts a story of a young mum who bought a creative puzzle for her child and ended up staying awake the whole night trying to figure out the puzzle. So it's not necessarily that the children's games or puzzles are easy.

Because she herself is a mother, most of her recommendations are based on what has been tried and tested and from the experiences of other parents who have used these educational toys. She even shares her knowledge on what she comes across especially from her trips overseas and her jaunts back to Kuala Lumpur.

Among the brands she carries are GD flash cards, Ks Kids, Read & Play soft books, Aristoplay award winning board games, USL kindergarten supplies, LASY creative training sets, play puppets, personalised books, parenting books, Vietnamese wooden toys, Plan Toys and others. CDs and cassettes are also available. She also carries the Glendorman system which teaches babies about learning.

This business-savvy mum also takes orders for personalised bibs, baby hats and nappy holders - all which make marvellous gifts for newborns.

Truly a treasure trove of toys for your precious ones!

by Krista
15th April 2002

Calling the Shots

2007-08-20T16:39:00.001+08:00

This was a piece I wrote after interviewing Anu, a Malaysian woman, via email one day. She told me she had a story to tell and I was all ears! I believe each of us has a unique story, if only someone would listen. Hers is about her belief in Mary Kay, a famous cosmetic company and the confidence she now has as a result of being a Mary Kay consultant. Plus if you have a dark complexion, you might understand some of the initial problems Anu had with makeup!

Calling the Shots

"As an Asian, I hated going into a departmental store to get my beauty products. I had always found it quite difficult to get a foundation colour to match my skin tone. Not only was it difficult but you can never get the right advice from the sales assistants. They will choose something for you and say that is the right colour, you buy it as that might look the nearest tone with all the lighting around, bring it back home and you are not happy with it. When you have it on natural light I was never happy with what I bought and ended up having hundreds of bottles unused in my drawers. I then decided I was not going to wear any daily foundation but only on special occasions. Even then I was never comfortable as I never looked natural - my face was either too dark or too light," Anu Doraisamy can remember those years with much fondness now.

Desiring to find the perfect make up, Anu found a chance to be independent, earn good money and still have time to be a real mum to her three children.

Anu Doraisamy, 33, is a part-time university administrator at the University of East London. Anu is also a full-time consultant for Mary Kay cosmetics.

"I was born in Penang, Malaysia and left home in 1988 to come (to the UK) and do my nursing," she relates. She qualified as a registered general nurse in 1991 and worked as a staff nurse for a few months.

She couldn't pinpoint it but she felt deep down that she needed a change. So Anu took off her nursing uniform and headed back to school, and graduated a few years later with a Business Administration degree.

"My first job (after graduation) was in a clergy hospital. I was there for a year before I landed this wonderful job as an Administrative Officer for an Examining Board."

While working for the Examining Board for five years, her motherly instincts jumped into high gear and her babies began arriving. In a way, having children spurred her to take a long, hard look at her job. The hows and whys she became involved in Mary Kay cosmetics was partly, Anu says, because she thought it highly unfeasible to nurture three little ones (especially all under five years) and at the same time "pinned to a full time job."

More impetus was added when she knew she was, by hook or by crook, going to mother her children alone, aided only by her husband. No relatives or family members were living anywhere remotely near her. Her turning point came almost serendipitously when she was combing the stores for makeup that suited her Asian complexion.

"In 1998, my friend was telling me about Mary Kay cosmetics and we decided to ring the head office and get more information as I had enough of scouring through stores for the wrong stuff," she says.

Imagine her surprise when the Mary Kay sales director for her area phoned her up within two days and explained how Mary Kay consultants work.

"I was quite taken back to find that a consultant was coming to give me a private consultation in the comfort of my own home free of charge - yet I could not argue with such an offer, could I?"

Skepticism blanketed her. Anu says, "Being me, I was still very dubious about this arrangement so I invited a couple of my friends to this class. All of us had three different skin tones."

They were given explanations on Mary Kay skin care and the consultant addressed their needs individually.

After trying several different colours, Anu finally settled on a shade of foundation which satisfied her thoroughly - quite a feat actually considering she was ready to throw in the towel.

"All three of us decided to buy our skin care that day and nearly four years down the line, we are still satisfied customers," Anu laughs. After the first consultation session, the three excited women made another appointment to taste the glamour again and they were not disappointed - in fact, they were taught how to apply make up correctly as well as coordinate flattering colours.

Anu then bravely took the leap from being a happy customer to bringing in happy customers. Anu, who was then juggling her children and career, decided to join as a Mary Kay consultant.

A usual day for Anu revolves around speaking to people to schedule appointments. "The bottom line is, you teach skin care and make up techniques. We do not sell and do not look for a quick sell," Anu reiterates.

"We have to remember women like to buy, but not be sold to. The products speak for themselves and customers buy them after a class. You keep in touch with your customers all the time with promotions and new products."

With Mary Kay, one can be either a full time or a part time consultant.

"You need to be consistent with this job - if you work just six hours a week, then you will have to head at least two classes a week. I must admit I have not been doing much at all lately - just a couple of classes a week," Anu smiles.

She adds that Mary Kay Ash, the founder of the cosmetic organisation, always said that faith came first, then family and then, career. She agrees that the founder's philosophy has worked wonders for many women.

"With Mary Kay, you choose the hours that suit you," Anu says.

"Mary Kay clients can look forward to personalised service in the comfort of their own home, and it's 100% satisfaction guaranteed," she adds. Anu claims that Mary Kay's quality is comparable to other brands in the market yet sold at a quarter of the existing market prices. Mary Kay has been the best skin care and colour cosmetics in the UK for the past seven years, she enthuses.

On her personal growth, Anu is truly grateful with the confidence she has gained since joining Mary Kay.

"Not many organisations give you motivation but with Mary Kay there is always someone next to you encouraging and motivating you to do better. It's not a company where you have to do your best to take over somebody else's position. Anyone can be a director and earn diamonds and cars if they are consistent with their classes. Your Unit Director will be with you all the way - you are never alone."

Says Anu, fee-wise, one pays �75 to get a showcase of products worth �350 to start off with. This showcase includes all shades of foundation for three skin types, skin care sets for the three basic skin types, mirrors, lipsticks, eye and cheek colours, brochures and other essential materials.

She also adds that "you put in the hours you want to work - anything from three hours a week to 40 hours." At the moment Anu only works five hours a week but once November is over, she plans to triple that as it will then be Christmas time.

Anu is very much in praise of Mary Kay. She quips, "Mary Kay has kept me financially better off. It has paid for all the holidays we have had for the last two years."

Anu mentions, "I have been working on a very part time basis in the last two years but with the income I received from Mary Kay since August 1998 - I have come home to Malaysia thrice, my parents have come down (to the UK) twice plus my family and mum went to India a few months back for a three-week holiday. I have had gifts from Mary Kay and personal best were the gems I have received, as well as the beautiful friendships cultivated with other fellow consultants."

"If anyone outside the UK wants to be a consultant, please do get in touch with your head office for further information and if it is inconvenient, do get in touch with me and I will try and sort something out. For those in the UK, please email me with your details and I will get back to you will all the relevant information and necessary paperwork," offers Anu.

Parting words? "If you have the motivation, commitment to the company, want to earn money, meet new people, make friends, willing to undergo training and attend Unit meetings and want a new lifestyle, then Mary Kay is for you."

By Krista
10th October 2001

Mary Kay's products range from cosmetics for teens to the more mature skin types. Take a look at the various products at http://www.marykay.co.uk

Anu Doraisamy can be contacted at anu.kam@tesco.net

No Falling Back

2007-08-20T16:34:00.000+08:00

I wrote this piece after I spoke to Amita Nandy in 2002. I met her during a yoga class at Ananda Marga once. I have lost touch with her but she is one courageous woman. This piece appeared in i-asianwomen.com's Work@Home section. I spent a whole morning talking to Amita for this story below. It was well worth it. Her advice is spot-on.

No Falling Back

Affable and totally open, she comes across as a contradiction of sorts. You'd never imagine that this is the very same woman who attends four-wheel-drive rallies with much gusto ("We raised our own money for the rallies"), backpacks across India with her boys (her youngest babe was a mere three month old then) and yet, sinks gracefully into yoga and whips up a mean meal in the kitchen whenever she feels like it.

And tag this to her CV: she is also a successful and established work at home mummy, dictating her own time, and enjoying every moment of her work.

Amita Nandy, wife, yoga practitioner and a no-nonsense, highly-organised work at home mummy to three boys (ages ranging from five to 13) has this solid piece of advice for those starting out on their own a.k.a wishing to set up their own business to work from home: "Whatever you do, don't ever think of falling back on your husband!"

Seated in her spacious home where "each piece of furniture has a story to tell," Amita was quite nonchalant to the point where she seemed quite carefree about her business. But passion cannot be bridled and it simply flows from her words. It all began quite simply as a need to be a mother to her boys and a wife to hubby, B.K.Sinha.

Originally from Selangor, and from a Bengoli background, Amita had followed her Penangite husband and made her home in the Pearl of the Orient some 15 years ago. Her late father, by the way, is the famous Milon Nandy, teacher and English grammar expert, whose books are still used by many as references to the Queen's English.

With a job as an assistant principal of a local college in the heart of Georgetown, Amita had to put in long hours, usually going home after everyone had left the college.

"I was putting in a lot of hours, and after sometime, I just felt that I had to move on," she recollects of her early days.

While being pregnant with her first child, Amita decided that she had to get a regular nine-to-five job, one that offered more time to spend with her baby. It was then that she chanced upon an opening in one of the local factories, which was at that time, looking for someone to train the factory staff, from teaching production operators basic English to making sense of the SOPs (standard operating procedures) and breaking it down into everyday language for the everyone in the factory, especially for the human resources department.

Her grasp of the language, accompanied by her experience in education, and a Masters in Literature made her the perfect candidate to head the new department. She took to the job rather well, and enjoyed her four years tremendously.

Until a nudge from an ex-colleague made her rethink her options in life. Here she was, egging her to take on a new challenge at another factory. Amita shrugs, "I admired her from the time I began working at the factory. After she left, we still maintained contact and we'd see each other at functions and she was pivotal in getting me to go over to her new workplace."

With the new switch, Amita still felt that she could do so much more, and soon, grew weary of the regular nine-to-five which she coveted so much in the earlier days. It wasn't hunky-dory anymore, plus her third pregnancy made her sit down and ask herself, what did she really, truly need from her career and family?

"There is a marked difference with Baptu (her nickname for her youngest son) and the older two," she says. Her youngest is more of a confidante, and seems much more mature for all of his five years; he is more active, extremely confident and able to relate much more to her.

This, Amita feels, is the direct outcome of her being together with her child when he was in his formative years - when she was spending time with him while working from home - and she compares it to her two older sons, who were always with one babysitter or another when she was working.

Seven years ago, she decided to put all her skills that she'd learnt while training others and her close network of friends, colleagues and business associates to good use. Coupled with her HR expertise and the desire to educate and train, she began her training and consulting business right from her home.

It was stressful, as Amita remembers being a one-woman-show in the beginning. Everything happened from her home - contacting clients, meeting them, interviewing them to understand their corporate needs ("on what aspect did they need me to train their staff?") and coming home, and sitting down to formulate a training programme to address those needs within a set period of time. Juggling everything from photostating to driving all the way to Kulim to meet clients, those were the days when she was coming from nowhere but deciding from the very start to make it work.

"There was no option of falling back on the husband so I had to give my 110 percent!" She laughs easily now, as her portfolio of clients have grown to a considerable size, and training to her, after seven years, she has got it down pat, with each and every detail right in their place.

These days, her days run on a more leisurely course, affording her the pleasure of yoga though she still travels all across Malaysia to conduct her training. Training has even taken on a fun note as she currently includes outdoor teambuilding programmes which fits her active lifestyle to a T.

To get in touch with Amita Nandy, please write to: tactful@tm.net.my

by Krista
21st February 2002

Why Another Blog?

2007-08-20T16:13:00.000+08:00

I didn't want to start another blog but a quick dig-around in www.archive.org made me realise that my old articles and features were still in cyberspace.

I used to be the editor for a women's web portal back in 2001. I quit that job (although I enjoyed it terribly) in March 2004 because it was time for me to join Nic in his business - Redbox Studio. Plus I wasn't just an editor at i-asianwomen.com - I was also the corporate communications manager for the mother company. At that time, I was also studying for my Masters degree on a part-time basis so everything took bits of me!

When I was an editor at i-asianwomen.com, I didn't just edit writing or stories or contributions by our pool of contributors (whom we paid rather well too). I was also tasked to contribute my own writing, be it articles, interviews or stories. Since I have a background in journalism, I often went out of the office, hunting for quality stories (but centered on women and women's issues, of course).

Once I left i-asianwomen.com, the company deteriorated to a point where the website disappeared. I was rather sad as I had put in a lot of effort (there were 3 of us permanent staff) and my writings disappeared too.

But I have since found them and will be putting them up in this blog - not only to remind myself of those days where I used to write (a lot) but also as a tribute to the wonderful women I met along the way.

Enjoy my work!