Bride and bridegroom sitting with the pengapit and family.We were at Bentong on 18 December 2005 attending our cousin's weding. We just call the bride Kak Cik. We dont really know their real names due to the fact that their 'nama timangan' are more popular. The eldest Aswah, followed by Wisam, De, Kak Cik, Boy, Kojak, Baby or Bik, and Erin.
I was at Putrajaya last November. Here are a few of the photos taken.
Morning view along Karakoram highway 
Eager young volounteers at the disaster site in Balakot
The first thing that attracted me when entering Lahore is the horses/mules. In Lahore not only do they use rickshaw (equivalent to the tut-tut in Thailand) but also horses and mules.
Injured and Homeless; Balakot
Lahore is far more beautiful than it used to be 25 yrs ago when I first set foot there. It used to be very smelly with horses’ waste but now the smell is not that obvious.
Unwanted donations: Walking through heaps of unsable clothes at Balakot
At the airport the official exchange rate was Rp 15.8 to RM1 but we were only given Rp 15 to RM1(make a guess where the Rp 0.8 went to). We got our things and told Jamal (the Malaysian student) that we were hungry. The time was about 11.45 pm and the expected time of departure at Lahore Daewoo terminal was 12.30 am. We got a taxi and drove straight to Daewoo Bus Terminal. We started to search for restaurants or stalls but none was open. We checked our luggage and after revaluating the time, we took a ride on a rickshaw to a nearby restaurant.
Landslide at Naran Road, half blocked. I travelled along this road almost daily visiting a camp at kilometre 15. The camp was operated by Al Khidmat, a local NGO.
Collapsing mountainous Naran Road; accessable up to 15 km only.
Observing Jamal negotiating the rate with the rickshaw driver made me recalled 25 years ago how my sister bargained to get a good price with their head shaking left and right just like the Pakistani do. Jamal even cupped the drive’s cheeks, like an adult doing it to a child ‘to say how cute you are.’ They agreed to the price eventually.
The restaurant in Lahore where we had our dinner
We entered Fazal-E-Haq Restaurant and ordered 4 plates of chicken biryani. The rice was served with chicken masala, mashed spinach and tomato with onion salad. It was a fast dinner and we got back to the bus terminal 5 minutes before departure, had our luggage tagged and boarded into the luggage compartment, ticket checked, scanned with a portable metal detector and our face recorded with a videocamera at our seats. The bus left the terminal at 12.30 am sharp. Yes we were boarding a bus! Not an airplane, mind you!
Kalahar Daewoo Rest area.
A few minutes after departure, we received a welcome note from our ‘stewardess’. She had a sweet voice, starting with the doa and announcement in both Urdu and English. We were informed of the duration of the journey, expected time of arrival, our next stop and the refreshments that will be served. We were given head phones, sandwiches and drinks. Our next stop was Kalahar Daewoo Resting terminal.
Homeless Pashtun kids posing at our camp; Their houses in the mountains were destroyed by the 8th October Earthquake. They loved to be photographed.
A space at Bangkok Airport where we prayed
We proceed to Gate 32 and had to stop for security check. The irritating buzzing sound triggered as I walked through the scanner indicating the presence of metalic object. A body check was performed and I was glad that it was fast and simple using a hand scanner. Haji Hani was not so lucky. He was screened by a lady officer with the hand scanner and hand searched for concealed contraband. "Damned it! She touched my chest and it was ticklish," he complained. :)
Mansehra-Balakot Road; Dr Hassan, Hj Hani, Dr Azmi
We boarded Thai Airways inbound to Lahore at 8.30 pm but due to unavoidable circumstances, our flight was only allowed to depart at about 8.50 pm, a 20 minutes delay. The cabin was quite hot and we were sweating. Most of the passengers were Pakistani, Thailand foreign workers returning home for Eid. They were nicely dressed with a number wearing blazers with ties.
It was getting hotter and some passengers were already using newspapers or magazines as fans. The cabin odour was getting stronger and unpleasant. Everything changed after we took off. It got cooler and we were given warm towel to wipe our oily face and sweaty hands. It was 30 minutes later when the long awaited meal were served. Since we had a light iftar at Bangkok, our stomach had started to grumble. What we were worried of was 'what if we could not get halal food as we had requested before departure?' We leaned forward, peeping at the front seat passenger when he was served with a specially requested food, a 'Non pork meal' written on the box.
Grinning, I told my friends, "Non pork doesnt mean its halal. It may be chicken or cow slaughtered by non Muslims."
The steawardess continued moving, pushing a fairly big container-trolley filled with prepared meals asking politely to the passengers, "Chicken or fish sir? Maam?"
Then came our turn and after looking at a check list, she started to prepare our meal. On the box was clearly written 'Muslim meal'. We looked at each other smilling, as it was prepared according to our request. Most of the passenger just took the standard prepared meal without asking its origin.
We finished our chicken biryani, had our coffee and my newly recharged mind started to wonder, "Have anybody seen that Pakistani boy, friend of Mahmud? He is supposed to be in the same flight."
Nobody saw him. He could not have missed the flight since we were told that the boy would be checking in a few minutes later. It was not the same case as what had happened to Mr Mahmud other friend who missed his plane forcing Mr Mahmud to wait for the next flight that should be arriving at 5.00 pm.
Mr Mahmud and his Malay friend was supposed to go on business trip together in Bangkok that evening. Anyway his Malay friend did not turn up. Now, his Pakistani friend too disappeared into thin air, nowhere to be seen, not in flight nor at Lahore.
Damages at Muzaffarabad
We managed to get a short sleep before arriving at Allama Iqbal International Airport, Lahore at 10.00 pm local time. We just follow the crowd and queue at the foreigners line. The officer at the counter seemed very detailed with her questions causing a long wait. After 15 minutes waitaing in the hardly moving line, we were then ushered to the Pakistan Passport lines that were emptying fast. Then only we noticed that there was a special counter for the earthquake relief volounteers like us. We moved to the counter and were bombarded with questions, not only by the lady officer from the counter but also from another male officer that suddenly turn up since I told them that i was the head of the group.
We had to fill forms, special entry forms asking what sort of aid we will be giving, our destination, our local address and our expertise. The male officer then asked for my pen to write someting on my entry form. It was a nice green pen given to me by a medical company back home. I expected the pen to be given back to me, but alas, NO! He gave it to the lady officer, wicked smiles in their faces and than she placed it carefully on the right side of her computer keyboard. She lifted her 'i knew nothing face' and told me, "Thank you sir, you may proceed." Knowing these people, I just kept quiet, not bothering to ask or saying good bye to my pen.
Naran Road; They had to walk more than 15 km
I had been to Pakistan before, way back in 1980. I visited my sister who studied in a college taking A-Levels at Karachi. She stayed at Jayker Road which reminds me of a book 'The Jackal', not the classic 'Dr Jaykell and Mr Hyde'. She was not on vacation during my visit, so I opted on her suggestion to travel and visit other Malaysian students in Lahore, 1000 miles away. I took 'Shalimar' Express, a superfast train that arrived at Lahore 14 hours later. A super express will take you 18 hours, normal train 24 hours and a combo train somewhere 36 hours. I then travelled by myself to Amritsa, Jammu, Sri Nagar and New Delhi which took me one whole week.
Balakot; Brotherly love. Parents victim of 8/10/2005 earthquake
We then proceed to get our baggages; rucksacks, boxes filled with equipment and medicines. We were stopped half way and more questions asked, "Why are you here? What sort of aid are you going to give? Where are you bound to? How many days will you be staying? What do you have with you?"
Satistied with the answers, we were then allowed to get our things and proceed to queue to have our things X-Rayed. We had to pass through the customs counter which allowed us to move unchecked. "You are from the relief mission? Malaysia?" An officer asked.
"Yes." I nodded.
"Good, welcome and you may proceed," answered the officer.
At last! There was someone that can appreaciate our effort, and it reminded me of my father in law, a retired high ranking non corrupted custom's officer.
Balakot; Treating an injured girl
A Malaysian student was there waiting for us once we were outside the custom check point. Brother Jamal had just finished his Islamic Studies final examination and was preparing for home. Our collegue, Brother Iqbal had arranged for Brother Jamal to meet us and board us on a bus to Abbotabad in the North Western Frontier Province the same night.
Landslide at Muzaffarabad
I have just got back from Pakistan. "Thank God, I'm out of that place" said one of the volounteer. It is it not easy travelling or working in Pakistan. Firstly, most of the population cant speak Malay or English. In the villages, its just like 'itik bercakap dengan ayam' with the hands and legs moving actively for sign language. Secondly, the personality or attitude of the people. Thirdly, the administration. Fourthly, the harsh weather and lastly, missing home.
Balakot lies in the North Western Frontier Province, tribal area where the law is decided by the tribe leaders. Over these mountains and valleys dwell the Pashtun or the Pathan. The Pathans are conservative, traditionalist and supposed to be steadfast to their religion, Islam.
Landslide at Muzaffarabad with houses destroyed
The earthquake that hit Northern Pakistan on October 8, had caused a lot of destruction along Neelam, Balakot, Batagram and Alai Valley. Building collapsed, inhabitants burried alive, dead bodies everywhere, those who survived are exposed to cold, hunger, injuries and illness. Many survivors are without shelters.
Those in the mountains took days to walk down seeking aid which eventually end up with only food supply but without tents. The authority concerned was unable to meet the demands in supplying enough tents and blankets. The NGO's and foreign units had given invaluable help in terms of search and rescue, medical relief, tents, blankets, sanitation, clean water, communication, transportation, etc. Without them, the rescue operations would lag far behind. Even then more help is still needed for the homeless victims to survive the coming winter. Without proper shelter, they will be left dying in the cold.
An old man from the mountain
Pleading for a tent
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Maman and his friend; "one evening by the river"
Sunset with a kayak in Tioman
Mayo and Putie
Maman was down with sinusitis and had sinus washout done last Tuesday. He was tough and recovered fast. On the next day the worst news arrived. An advice fron the doctor that he had to avoid animals with fur. Maman is very fond of animals; cats, fish, insects, reptiles, birds and you just name them. In fact, he wants to be a vet.
However Maman took the news calmly.
Talking about cats, I could still recall when I was still at preschool, we had a white cat with blue eyes called Nikki. Nikki was a smart cat and she could open doors and obey commands. Do you know that a small percentage of white cat with blue eyes are deaf?
Later in Kuantan, our mother brought home a persian. Make a guess of the name... Kitty in rememberence of Nikki that died years back.
Kitty was an intelligent female , recognised people of the house, will run to the owner when called, wont go beyond the gate and will run inside fast if there were strangers, will wait at the door, hate toddlers crying and in fact she slapped one of the youngest siblings for crying loudly, love and watch after babies(human babies), even watch tv with the family, able to open doors, determined which of her offsprings can enter the house when reaching puberty, eat at the table with proper manners(only 2 hands on the table) and hate people touching her with their foot.
Kitty died of old age (age >10 yrs). At present, we have 7 cats; Mayo(Persian), Nikki(Bengal), Runchang(Bengal), Inai(Bengal), Angelo(semi long-hair), Mocel(semi long-hair), Mocot(semi long-hair).
We lost Putie our Turkish Angora 4 months ago.... possibility being kidnapped. Rufus and Totti (both semi long-hair) died 2 months ago of unknown cause. I could still remember when Runchang was still a baby, he called all night if left alone and Maman volountered to sleep downstairs on the sofa with
Runchang. At present Runchang only allows Maman and Aliah to stroke his coat.
Maman and Runchang
We also have wild pigeons nesting on our roof, large beetles, moth and other weird looking insects , black lizards, normal lizards visiting. Beavers crossing the road about 25 metres from our house from a nearby stream, a wild black cat joining the beaver's pack and 'chirping' at night calling our bengals,
feral cats eyeing our long hairs. A few weeks back, i got to know that our house was an attraction as a mini zoo with the neighbourhood kids and even parents stopping by with their children. I am wondering why when there are lots of
ferals roaming; short tail, broken tail, long tail, stout, normal built, sturdy, different coat color or and pattern, short hair, semi long hair and yet our home became the viewing spot.
Runchang at 6 months
As for Maman, for now, he can only watch and call the cats from a distance. Loving them from afar, the only way allowed to show and receive love from them after being advice to avoid touching, stroking and playing with them.
I was invited to a tea party today at my uncle's place. We were served with meehoon goreng, cakes, puddings and payasum (i dont really know whether the spelling was right). An initial sample of payasum eventually ended up with 4 helpings. I was told that the recipe was 'imported' from London. We also tried fresh susu kambing from the herd belonging to him.
