tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54563083022015183812024-03-13T18:45:42.498+08:00BEING DUSUNVeronehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09240367782918077788noreply@blogger.comBlogger137125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5456308302201518381.post-66775935477365423712017-09-30T10:36:00.001+08:002017-09-30T10:36:07.255+08:00And that was how I developed a very high level of religious tolerance<p dir="ltr"><br>
(Part 2)</p>
<p dir="ltr">(I sent the link of my blog on part 1 of this entry to Arielle. Just now, after her Account tuition, she asked me when is part 2 going to be written. So here goes)</p>
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So I mentioned in part 1 how listening to the recital of the Holy Quranic verses made me feel safe as a child during those pitch black nights especially when the weather was scary. And my eldest brother, the one now known as Fr Wilfred through his profession as a Catholic priest commented that he was in full agreement with me. He even added that he can still recite the 'azan' and 'takbir raya' very well to this day. It's obvious that both he and I had developed a high level of religious tolerance via the same process. It so happened that we both attended SBPL (now known as Sekolah Sains Labuan) when we were in form 4 & form 5.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Back to the story... my childhood experience was mainly sensory in nature. I heard the Quranic verses recitation and I felt safe and protected. Upon entering high school, the environment further played an important role in shaping my tolerance.</p>
<p dir="ltr">In form 1 at SMK Mat Salleh, Ranau, I had my first experience of having an ustaz teaching in my class. This particular ustaz came from West Malaysia. He told us all, Muslims and non-muslims to greet him with 'asalamualaikum' each time he came to our class. I didn't find that weird at all, and I am very sure others felt the same too. Life went on peacefully for us all.</p>
<p dir="ltr">After we finished our form 3 exam, (known as SRP), there wasn't that many exciting things to do at school. So we spent most days doing 'gotong-royong' and that included carrying bricks for the school's 'surau' building. Again we did it cheerfully, Muslims & non-Muslims, without any negative feelings.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Form 4 came and both my brother and I ended up in SBPL. There, we immersed in yet another new environment which reinforced our high level of tolerance.</p>
<p dir="ltr">(And that is part 2...tbc 😃)</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-My5mW-3K7YQ/Wc8DFQiwC7I/AAAAAAAABFU/m4yINAIWdIY-pS5xmYSr3CjsD349HkHLACHMYCw/s1600/IMG_20170929_212001_1333.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-My5mW-3K7YQ/Wc8DFQiwC7I/AAAAAAAABFU/m4yINAIWdIY-pS5xmYSr3CjsD349HkHLACHMYCw/s640/IMG_20170929_212001_1333.jpg"> </a> </div>Veronehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09240367782918077788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5456308302201518381.post-88780357410153444552017-09-28T09:29:00.001+08:002017-09-28T09:29:40.078+08:00And this was how I developed a very high level of religious tolerance<p dir="ltr">Originally written as a FB entry</p>
<p dir="ltr">(this one is for my daughter, Arielle who deactivated her FB account till SPM is over, but I will post this on my blog later. She asked me to write more about 'the olden day' (read: my childhood) so that she knows more about the past)</p>
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<p dir="ltr">There is this little cafe I frequent most mornings, mostly because it serves my favourite Tawau-style mee tauhu, but also because of its outdated boombox, it plays either songs from the 80s (era kegemilangan lah katakan), and recital of Holy Quranic verses. Now, many people find me unfathomable because of the way I can sincerely appreciate Quranic verses reading or Buddhist teachings and such things while being very comfortable with my own religious practices.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I've been reflecting about me too and come up with this conclusion: the current me is the results of significant childhood experience and teenagehood environment. And I have to say I am thankful for those.</p>
<p dir="ltr">When I started primary school, my dad was the headmaster in this school in a beautiful little village tucked away somewhere in a lush forest. It was as kampung as could be without electricity and without a lot of other facilities. At one point, there were only dad, my eldest brother and me because my mom decided to be in my grandparents' house in another village with my other younger siblings.</p>
<p dir="ltr">At that time, we didn't go to church. Or should I say there was no nearby church to go to. And although our parents taught us the basic prayers, there were often occasions when I felt very very scared at night especially when the weather was horrible. Imagine the sound  of howling wind and pattering rain on a zinc roof. Not pretty at all, I tell you.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Despite the lack of technology then, we still had a radio that connected us to civilization. And the little me had it on most of the time because it gave me the illusion of being surrounded by people. In the  evenings (dark and gloomy to my selected memory), the radio would play the Quranic verses recital for a certain period of time. I remember feeling safe to hear that...and that was how my childhood was shaped. Long after I had learned more Christian prayers and songs, I still appreciate the recital. Apparently,  things like these get stuck at a person's heart that 35 years later, I still appreciate it...</p>
<p dir="ltr">(And this is part 1 of the entry 😃)</p>
Veronehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09240367782918077788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5456308302201518381.post-8605129627234974322017-06-27T21:10:00.001+08:002017-06-28T22:44:39.496+08:00Memories of Grandpa: last days<p dir="ltr">Long after a loved-one is gone from your life, you can still feel the piercing pain when you think of him. Indeed, a person is irreplaceable. Only his memories will keep your heart warm and you want to hold on to those memories forever.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Yesterday was our maternal late grandpa's 11th anniversary of passing. As always, I missed him so much that I couldn't bring myself to write about him. But I have promised myself and the family members that I will write and keep him alive in our hearts.</p>
<p dir="ltr">There are too many memories of Grandpa that even after all these years I am still at loss to begin writing. Maybe starting backwards will help.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Grandpa passed on after more than a year of suffering from colon ulcer. My little boy who was then 3 years old and I got to spend time with him for two full weeks before he passed. At that stage, the extended family members took turn trying to make him as comfortable as could be. What I remember the most was his constant moaning because he was in so much pain.  Every day each of us would spend an hour or so by his bedside. Whenever it was my boy and my turn's, I would rub his stomach in circular motion to ease the pain; at the same time suppressing my tears because it hurt so much to see someone in great pain. Sometimes I just let the tears fell silently and say as many prayers as I could. My little boy, being only 3, would innocently ask me to sing the 'Our Father' prayer, thinking that the prayer would make Grandpa fall asleep like it did him. </p>
<p dir="ltr">It was during that time that I could really feel the extended family's solidarity. Aunts, uncles, cousins, nephews...they would all take turn accompanying grandpa. Sometimes talking comforted him. Strange requests and conversations took place but we just said yes to everything.</p>
<p dir="ltr">The strangest request he made was for the family and neighbours to beat the gongs for his funeral. Of course it was a scandalous request! According to the Dusun culture that we adhere to, when there is death in a household, no music of any kind is allowed. Not even TV or radio until the person has been laid to rest. In fact, if I remember correctly, no musical instruments for a week. </p>
<p dir="ltr">(I wasn't in the country when grandpa was laid to rest. The family honored his wish and did a round of gong-beating. His neighbours told us that on that day, they all heard beautiful gong beatings out of the blue, just as grandpa wished. Maybe coincidently, there was a wedding at some neighbouring village...or...)</p>
<p dir="ltr">One time when I made my daily visit to grandpa, he opened his eyes and asked me "isai pama i hiti di tinu ddi?" (Who was it that was here earlier?). Puzzled, I said the name of every possible relative that was there on that day. "Okon, kirasuk toitom-itom do kisalip miagal di dampaado. Numaan dau pohitio'd kangkab ku i buuk do tagayo". (No, he wore a dark coloured robe with cross like the priest's. He put a big book on my chest).  I felt my goosebumps raising when I heard that. Somebody told me that a person who was about to leave for the other world would see things that revolved around his faith. Grandpa was a Catholic. Could it be possible that he saw Jesus, the sign of his faith? Not knowing what to say, I told him it might have been the priest who came to visit him.</p>
<p dir="ltr">On 26.06.2006, grandpa passed on. (I wasn't there to bid him final goodbye. But at the time he drew his last breath, from far away I experienced a great sense of sadness, like my heart was ripped from me. For a few minutes, I was sweating like I was sick. Then it ended. And a text from my family came to tell me he was gone.<br>
Maybe that's why I still miss him so much to this day). </p>
<p dir="ltr">The family said it was a beautiful day when he was laid to rest. Many people from various places came over to pay him final respect. Not surprising as Grandpa was a very popular person- always good-natured and helpful. Even his resting place was quickly prepared, because a backhoe driver who  happened to pass by the cemetery offered to dig up the burial place instead of it being dug up by the villagers following the tradition there.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Eleven years later, he is still deeply missed.</p>
Veronehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09240367782918077788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5456308302201518381.post-61797151708280765942017-05-25T22:37:00.001+08:002017-05-25T23:08:29.334+08:00Remembering grandma<p dir="ltr"> Too much of culture-related content in the conference today made me miss grandma so much. We called her 'ina' (mother, in Dusun), following our mom, aunties and uncles. She passed on in 2007, and yet it feels like just yesterday I was talking to her, listening to all her stories.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Grandma wasn't the most open person when it came to personal matters. She was kind of private and the only time she actually talked about her past in length was when I met her last before she had a stroke, which led to her passing on.</p>
<p dir="ltr">So the thing I wanted to know the most was her first husband. The fact that Dusun people of her generation married a few times before settling with their final spouse is quite well-known. The reason why they divorced have to be coaxed out of them though.</p>
<p dir="ltr">And so I asked her quite bluntly...why did you divorce your first husband? At first she refused to tell...but my persistence got to her and she told me her story in an unusually gentle voice, untypical of my military-like grandma.</p>
<p dir="ltr">She, like most girls of her generation was match-made. And funnily enough, she thought at around 13 she married late. People in those days got married but didn't sleep together...until...until...they discovered what conjugal love meant. Grandma was married-off but still lived in her relatives' household (having had lost her parents early). </p>
<p dir="ltr">A few month after the wedding, an elder relative told her she was to be divorced. The reason was, her husband who stayed in his family farm had his eyes set on another girl. In those days, openly liking a person was a taboo...much less liking a person when you were already somebody's spouse.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I asked grandma "aa ko ddi tinumogod?" (Didn't you get angry?). She simply answered in the softest voice, "nunu gia katagadan?" (What was there to be angry about?)</p>
<p dir="ltr">At that moment, my respect for grandma increased a hundredfold. She accepted her destiny and moved on. Perhaps that was because she never did discover a wife's feeling for a husband. But she could still have had her pride bruised and got angry. Yet she didn't.</p>
<p dir="ltr">She lived up to the saying "If you love someone, let him/her go. If s/he is yours s/he will come back to you. If s/he doesn't, it is never meant to be..."</p>
<p dir="ltr">Grandma, a wise woman long gone. Still our inspiration.</p>
Veronehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09240367782918077788noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5456308302201518381.post-76927077324370306002017-01-05T12:11:00.003+08:002017-01-05T12:11:57.537+08:00Back to Blogging (2017): rambling on New Year resolution and themeHappy New Year 2017! My self-imposed blogging-exile is over. I've missed my blog and because life is short, am determined to write stuffs because writing is one of my passions.<br />
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We, the Dusun, generally aren't very good with resolutions. Either we don't make them at all, or we just don't achieve them, like yours truly. "And why is that?", you would wonder. Some years ago I blogged on the culture of not making <a href="http://beingdusun.blogspot.my/2010_08_01_archive.html" target="_blank">plans</a> for fear of evil spirit's interference. I supposed we the modern Dusun people must have subconsciously absorbed the cultural belief; hence, the not-so-good with resolution (just my assumption, not proven by any empirical research).<br />
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I imagine that in those days secret resolutions might have been in the form of aiming to harvest more crops than the year before. Or perhaps during the head-hunting era, it could have been, aiming to "harvest" more heads of the enemies...(and the purpose wasn't to display the skulls as trophies, but some other deeper significant which is a blog topic for another day)...<br />
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Anyway, I do have my own personal theme for each year. That, might qualify as a form of resolution. As I wrote in my FB post recently, this year my personal theme is "Kindness and Compassion, good-samaritan-style". It was inspired by the kindness I experienced when my car horn malfunctioned and kept on blaring on 2.1.2017. Hopeless, as my automobile knowledge is practically null, strangers around me stopped by to help disable the sound, showed me the parts related to the horn and advised me on what to do. That was enough to remind me that there are still many kind good Samaritans in the world. So I am convinced that if others let themselves be my angels, then I can let myself be others' angel too. That's how life works anyway.<br />
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Of course I cannot help the whole world. But doing my part for people I can reach out to should help the world. After all, it's the work of many small hands that create wonders. (BUT.., we should be wise in giving help. Besides the good people, there is a fair share of vultures out there).<br />
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Being fully aware of this, I am reminding myself that "it is in giving that we receive".Veronehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09240367782918077788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5456308302201518381.post-18204815988365982682014-12-17T15:16:00.000+08:002014-12-17T15:16:00.071+08:00Christmas gifts for my young ladies!How time flies! It's going to be Christmas next week and I'm not even halfway done with my Christmas shopping. Every year I will try to get the perfect gifts for my kids: now 2 young ladies and a pre-teen boy. Imagine, just a few years ago they were these small and would be content to get toys or books for their Christmas gifts!<br />
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Not anymore! "Mom" has more headache trying to get them the right gifts. Then mom come across this link <a href="http://www.zalora.com.my/christmas/" target="_blank">christmas gifts online items</a>, and voila! problem solved! (Shhhh...the girls can't know about this or their surprise will be ruined!)<br />
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These gifts are really exciting for the feminine ladies-<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">the girly girl type </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">which </span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">loves everything related to fashion and cute
stuffs. Are my girls the girly types? Hmm...at times yes. The girl in blue, Arielle has grown to be a 14 year old who loves dresses. She is quite choosy though. As they say, a dress-girl dresses in a way that </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">portrays their elegant yet adorable character. Oh, that's so my Arielle. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 16.8666667938232px;">As for Sandra, she does love dresses but since she is a big-sized girl, it's not always easy to get her sizes (well, she takes after her mom. We plus sizes are sometimes not so lucky). But hey, this site has our sizes! Hallelujah :)</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 16.8666667938232px;">And make-ups too! Sandra and I love make ups. Being the new era teen, she has some tricks that her mom doesn't know...so mom has resorted to learning to put on make-up from her. Especially mascara and eye-liner. Oh well, e</span></span><span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">very woman will always need makeup. Whether the
basic essentials or a complete set consisting of lipstick, foundation,
eyeliner, mascara, eyeshadow or palettes, a woman will always never say no to a
makeup gift set received on Christmas. The vain me needs make up for work to help cover up a few spots on my tired morning
face. The need doubles up for dinner events, and weddings. Haha I am not that feminine but I will never be caught out without
at least having a slight hint of makeup on. Vain vain vain. I guess I'll get some make-ups for my own Christmas gifts as well...</span></span><br />
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<span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Oh, and the bags are just awesome! For a bag person like me, this is perfect! There's only one small problem though. I get so blinded by the vast array of choices they offer. At times like this, this tip is useful "</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; text-align: justify;">Choose
a handbag which closely represents the character of the person, and
let them show it off in front of others. The tip to select a perfect handbag is
to purchase a handbag with sleek detailing with an expensive appearance. For a
safe choice, opt for colours such as black, cream, white or brown..." </span><span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I've always thought that you can never go wrong with black anyway :D</span></span><br />
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<span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Gifts taken care of for my young ladies. Still left with the headache of getting one for the boy and the Dad. In fact there're also others to get for other family members in kampung, as the big extended family will gather again at my mom's place this Christmas. (My mom has had a total-knee-replacement operation on 24.11.2014. As it is she is still not very mobile, so everyone kindly offered to come over to her house for our family Christmas (another typical Dusun gathering with lots of foods, drinks (moderate hopefully!) and musics. Oh gosh, I think I'm starting to get into the mood. Yay!)</span></span><br />
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<span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Merry Christmas all. Here's wishing you joy, peace and love!</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span>Veronehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09240367782918077788noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5456308302201518381.post-88721396374091876942014-06-10T16:36:00.000+08:002014-06-11T12:28:31.347+08:00Another wedding story<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Part I<o:p></o:p></div>
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Last year through to this year, a
lot of weddings happened in my extended family. My 6<sup>th</sup> brother’s
wedding (that’s the wedding of Nathanael to my beautiful sister-in-law,
Jennifer), took place in February 2013, during which, I got the chance to organize
a traditional Bundu wedding ceremony for the first time. Not without hassles. My mom wasn’t very
supportive because being a staunch Catholic, she would rather just stick to the
church’s sacrament of holy matrimony tradition. But she didn’t discourage me
either, so I got my wish anyway. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I had to find elderly folks to
research how the traditional Bundu weddings were conducted in those days. There
were a few versions but since there were going to be weddings in the family
after my brother’s, I set to experiment with two versions: the <i>panau </i>ceremony (literally means ‘walk’),
and the <i>papasalakoi do pinorikot</i>
ceremony (welcoming home the bride). So my 6<sup>th</sup> brother went through
the <i>panau </i>ceremony which turned out
to be imperfect but meaningful. Why imperfect? Because I, myself, had to be one
of the party singing the traditional poetic songs <i>‘tondiadi’</i> for the wedding! With my lame karaoke voice, it was a
struggle to hit high and low notes with deep emotion. And the lady I was
singing the song to (bless you aunty Rusiah), had a stage fright so bad that
she forgot her lyrics while singing <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span>.
We were saved by the collective spirit of the community in the end…every lady
my mom's age ended up backing us up in a harmonious choir!<o:p></o:p></div>
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In August 2013, I got to conduct
another <i>panau</i> ceremony for my dear
cousin, Tata and her husband Kay. This time around, the experiment took a
different turn. Many people were starting to support my ‘fancy activity’ (as
they termed it). I convinced my aunty Mairin to sing one part of the <i>tondiadi </i>while one of my late grandmother’s
best friend, Mdm Kusoi sang the response part. Turned out to be a bit
mismatched because Mdm Kusoi (who we fondly call <i>Ganakau</i>, as it was a name she and my late grandma called each
other) is Penampang born and her rites are based on the place she is from. But
it went well anyway. We had a bit of an innovation here…instead of walking the
bride and groom back to the reception place, they were ceremoniously driven in
a car. It’s modern day after all!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Part II<o:p></o:p></div>
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Other cousins got married, Andy
to Vera, Jack to Iris, Ireneus to Kelvity. The clan is growing bigger, a
blessing indeed. And so on 24.05.2014, my 5<sup>th</sup> brother Jewin married
the love of his life, Marion Elyy. The church wedding at the bride’s was
followed by a Chinese traditional ceremony, as Elyy’s dad is Chinese. Beautiful…beautiful
ceremony it was. Sense of humour defines the bride and groom, and the ceremony
was also humorous in many ways. Why, Jewin had to sing his feelings on that day
as one of the obstacles he had to go through before getting to Elyy’s bedroom.
Imagine how hilarious it was to see the groom, donned in an apron and oversized
boxing gloves, singing a church song “hari ini ku rasa bahagia” (Today I feel
happy) eagerly so that he could claim his bride! On top of that his 12 male companions had to dance to the song, some of
them in ladies dresses as required by the ‘demanding’ and ‘firm’ female protectors of Elyy who were actually
only teenagers. Ini kali lah! (This is it- a Sabahan expression to show the
intensity of an event, among others). I supposed he must have felt a great
relief when he was finally given the most coveted pass to claim his bride.<o:p></o:p><br />
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At the reception night I finally got
to meet all my brother’s best friends from the time he was in the university
till the time he worked in Penang. Some,
I have met before like <a href="http://fabianwilliam.blogspot.com/">Fabian William</a>, the celebrated singer and his wife, Nelly. But others, I have only heard of or see
virtually like Walter, Johnny, Guns, Aguk, and Brandon. The saying “birds of the same
feathers flock together” must be really true. I got the impression that all of
Jewin’s friends are just like him! Good singers, loyal, fun, active/dynamic,
and a little bit crazy (in a good way). (Well, Brandon did admit that yours
truly the big sister has that ‘crazy’ side too ;). Crazy runs in the family
apparently.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I conducted my third Bundu
traditional wedding ceremony on 31.05.2014. This time around, I followed version
two, <i>papasalakoi do pinorikot</i> (Welcoming the bride home). Instead of the
groom going over to the bride’s place to get her, the bride was taken to the
groom’s home. Since my aunty Dumie of Dad’s side couldn’t make it, I forced my
youngest aunty Collesta to sing the <i>tondiadi</i>.
This time around, I got aunty Dumie who is in her 70s to check and correct the lyrics that I got from earlier
informants. (I thank my cousin Helena for being our instrument via FB
correspondence). Aunty Mairin was still
doing the other part. On the day of the ceremony, aunts Mairin and Collesta
were joined by another aunty, aunt Majulinah (mama Bundu Tuhan) and a dear neighbor
Mdm Gundiba to do the singing. Everything was perfect during the preparation…they
practiced for about an hour, and I wasn’t worried at all about them not being
able to pull it off.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The moment came. Elyy’s family
members from Keningau arrived. From my aunty’s place about 200m away, we sent
Elyy off to my Dad’s house. The gong beating was beautiful, the four decoys
were beautifully made up. We walked over to my Dad’s house, to the waiting
guests who were family members and friends, including my Dad’s ex-colleagues
while he was a teacher years ago. While Elyy’s family members were served the <i>lihing </i>(traditional rice wine) in <i>suki</i> (bamboo glass), my cousins and I
worked fast to cover Elyy and the decoys with <i>sarongs</i> for Jewin to identify after the <i>tondiadi</i>. (At this point, I think my brother was at his wits end
waiting for the ceremony to start. Who could blame the cranky groom anyway,
after being locked up in his room for two hours throughout lunch time? (On my
instruction because I didn’t want him to cheat so that he could choose his
bride easily. Didn’t expect us to be too long that the lunch was delayed!).<o:p></o:p></div>
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The aunts took their places and
started the <i>tondiadi</i>. The worst thing
that could ever happen to a performer unexpectedly happened! One of them forgot
the tune, and the rest just lost their confidence! At that point I did
something that I shouldn’t have done…I joined in the singing! Then my uncle
Paladin (Peter Sanie) got impatient and joined in the singing as well. Then my
mum, who can actually do the singing better than everyone else but was just too shy
to do it, joined in too! (I am laughing now as I remember it). It wasn’t the
perfect singing I envisioned but it was so entertaining I know I can still use
it for teaching materials. Well, there are positive sides to everything, aren’t
they?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Jewin finally was allowed to go
out of his room to identify his bride from the 5 covered ‘ladies’ sitting on
the sofa outside of the house. He was about to identify the correct one, but we
convinced him that that was not her! (Yes, I cheated there. Why? Because I
promised my aunt Magdalena that she could have her little revenge by making the
Keningau family drink a lot. They had to drink <i>lihing</i> each time Jewin chose wrongly. Aunt Magdalena said in
Keningau during the Chinese Wedding ceremony, the 12 companions had to drink a
lot as part of the obstacles so it was only fair that we made them drink too!
Point taken…that was an innovation though, not part of the original Bundu
ceremony). Jewin chose all the wrong ones before he got to Elyy in the end. The
only real surprises for him were to discover that one of the decoys was my 14
year old daughter Arielle, and another was our 18 year old nephew Rob. Rob
played along with us just to see his uncle’s reaction. As expected, in reflex Jewin
lifted his hand to threaten to slap Rob! (Again, this is an innovation. My
ancestors must have turned in their graves to see us include a male decoy in
the ceremony. <i>Siou oi komolohingan</i> ‘sorry
ancestors’.) Finally, Elyy was found, and the traditional ceremony was
concluded by the bride and groom’s sharing a meal. (It was another hilarious
moment. I forgot to tell them that they were supposed to eat symbolically only.
But because it was past lunch time, both were so hungry they ate heartily!)<br />
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It started to rain right after
the traditional ceremony was over. Despite that, we had a lot of fun, as
befitted a typical Dusun wedding reception- eating, drinking and merry-making. I wish my dear brother Jewin and
my new sister Marion Elyy a lifetime of happiness. No marriage is at all time
sweet…but the not-so-sweet moments are meant for the couple to learn the
meaning of life, to hang on to the love that brought them together in the first
place. Let’s believe that love overcomes every difficulty.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/-XaRrp8bNdk?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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As for the video, it was done by
Kay Kastum, our bro-in-law, of <a href="http://www.kastumized.com/">kastumized creation</a>. He is a pro, evidenced by
him winning the <a href="https://airasiaxtakeover.appspot.com/">My Air Asia X challenge</a>
recently. Every one of his videos
tells a story that you will definitely appreciate. Well done talented bro-in-law
(the Dusun people love bragging about their family and friends, so bear with
me!) Also credits to the photographer, my cousin Crys J.P. Her passion in photography is so great she can capture moments very well!<o:p></o:p></div>
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*and so I have to stop
writing because I have piles of exam papers to mark…till next time.<o:p></o:p></div>
Veronehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09240367782918077788noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5456308302201518381.post-30421674751851684922013-12-28T00:39:00.000+08:002013-12-28T01:23:05.950+08:00Lesson-packed Christmastime (24.12.13-26.12.13)(<b>I- Thankfulness</b>)
I'd like to begin this piece with thanks, from the bottom of my heart (and hubby's too). To Dr Heric Cory of Queen Elizabeth Hospital 2 Kota Kinabalu, Dr G. Mohan of Tuaran Hospital, Dr Ahmad ... of Queen Elizabeth Hospital 2 (whose full name I regretfully didn't catch during those moments of panic), the ambulance staff of Tuaran Hospital whose efficiency was just amazing, Dr Christina Rundi of JKNS, Dr William G. of Queen Elizabeth 2 KK, Mr. Nelbon, Mr. Nurali, Mr. Rudi, and each and everyone of hubby's colleagues and staff at JKNS. During our moments of fear and uncertainty, these kindhearted people have helped us selflessly- organizing the smooth running of medical attention to hubby, wishing him well and supporting him in prayers. To our family members, who assisted, prayed and strenghtened us in many ways, we really appreciate that.
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(<b>II- Christmas Eve 2013: the pain</b>)
Trials often come in the most unexpected moments. For myself and hubby's, it came in the form of intense stomach pain experienced by hubby minutes before we were leaving for Christmas Eve mass at our church. It was 6pm. The day started out quite normal, full of Christmas Eve anticipations, even though it was raining cats and dogs and there was flood on our main road already. Roasted chicken and vegetables nicely done in the oven, we happily got ready to leave earlier for church so that we could catch the carols before the mass.
All of a sudden, hubby started rubbing his stomach, a grimace on his face. I asked him if he was ok, and he said his tummy felt uncomfortable. I casually told him that he should go to the bathroom and see if he feels better after that. He went up, and the kids and I waited downstairs. Minutes passed- "Dad calls you, Mom", the eldest daughter alerted me. Feeling that something was wrong, I quickly ran up the stairs and barged in the bedroom. My heart stopped when I found him in a kneeling position, leaning on the bed and groaning in pain. Gripped by fear, I rubbed his stomach, and felt more fear when I felt it hardening like it shouldn't be. Worse, he couldn't even move from that position. Saying random prayers, I grabbed his phone and punched 999. Once, no one picked up. Twice, still no one picked it up. I felt like howling out loud in frustration. Then he mumbled "Dr. Heric". Scrolling down the contact list as fast as I could, I pressed Dr. Heric's number, which thankfully he answered at once. (Looking back now, I know that I must have rudely interrupted whatever activity he was doing at the moment and I am so sorry for that. But I am truly grateful that he did pick up the phone). I couldn't remember what I told him, but what I remember was that he said he was in West Malaysia, asked if I have called 999, and asked if I could drive hubby myself to the emergency unit since the call to 999 wasn't picked up. I am ashamed of myself when I recall the situation now, but because of the flood, and my panic state, I knew I could never drive him in my Livina without having some sort of breakdown. Dr Heric asked me to wait as he was calling somebody from Queen to help me out.
As soon as we ended the conversation, I asked hubby if there's anyone else I could call. He mumbled "Dr Mohan". I quickly called Dr Mohan, and unashamedly begged for his help. (I must have shocked him beyond words, for having answered his cheerful "Merry Christmas" with a plead, after introducing myself. Dr Mohan, my humble apologies for bad manners). He said an ambulance would be on the way shortly, which relieved me so much. One thing I remember vividly, when I asked him "what can I do to make my husband feel better"? He answered, "keep cool". It really helped me overcome my panic.
I had barely ended the call with Dr Mohan when Dr Ahmad called, having been requested to do so by Dr Heric. (Dr Ahmad, I could barely register what we talked about. I couldn't even remember your full name when you introduced yourself, but one day I'd like to meet you in person to thank you and to apologise :(). All I knew was I was telling him an ambulance was being sent by Dr Mohan to our house.
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(<b>III- The ambulance ride and Emergency Unit </b>)
Never in my wildest dream did I imagine a ride in an ambulance- neither as a patient, nor as an accompanying passenger. Not even 15 minutes after all the calls, somebody from the ambulance called me to say that they were already at our housing area and asked for specific directions to our house. By then, hubby was feeling better, and thankfully could walk down the stairs. Not knowing what to expect, I got into the ambulance passenger seat like a hypnotised person, once they arrived. (Thank goodness the kids remembered to give us big hugs before we left, with very puzzled expressions on their faces, or else I would have forgotten that too! The littlest one, who is ten, asked sadly if there was going to be presents-unwrapping at all that day. I told him that each of them was allowed to open one present if we didn't come back home by 9pm).
The ambulance staff told us they were taking hubby to Queen Hospital 2, as per Dr's instruction. I wasn't very positive that we would reach there fast as it was some 25km away and I thought the flood still hadn't subsided. As soon as we got to the main road, the driver turned on the familiar blaring ambulance sound, that always works to make other drivers politely give way. In my fuzzy state of mind, I remembered thinking "oh yeah, I give way all the time when I hear this sound". I also have this habit of saying a little prayer to wish whoever it was on the ambulance a fast recovery. At that moment, I was hoping that somebody out there had the same habit and would say a little prayer for hubby. (Yes that was what desperado felt like, I finally knew).
As soon as we got into the emergency unit, hubby was given an efficient treatment. I noticed that the staff were all very calm and capable. It felt a bit surreal to be in an ER, having all this while, only watched such things on TV. Being the coward me, I swear I was shaking from top to toe, just by being inside the room. I prayed hard that no serious cases like accident casualties would be brought in at that time, for I was almost sure that if I saw blood oozing out of a person, I would make a spectacle of myself by fainting. It was quite enough to see needles poking my hubby's arm, a few times. Tests after tests were conducted. It was a relief that he was no longer in pain, but I could never have my peace of mind before knowing what was wrong. About 8pm, all but one test results were out. There seemed to be nothing seriously wrong. By then I had my hope up, thinking that we would be able to go home to our kids that night. Alas, it was not meant to be. The specialists were of the opinion that he should stay in the ward for observation. Of course they have all reasons to be concerned, as they know best.
While waiting for a room to be prepared, I had no choice but observed the surrounding. Most scary thing that night- the scream of somebody whose appendicitis burst! Gosh, that was the sound of pain, of suffering that (please God)I do not care to hear again. (I bet that's why God doesn't intend for me to be a doctor, and my respect for all the ER staff goes several notches up. Salute!)
All the while while in ER, whatsapp messages from hubby's colleagues/friends and family members kept pouring in. I do not make it a habit to peek into hubby's private messages, let alone whatsapp groups, (although we don't keep secrets from each other) but on his request, I answered most of the messages that night. If any of hubby's colleagues felt weirded out that the wifey did that, my sincere apologies.
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(<b>IV- Christmas: - at the ward</b>)
I was hoping that hubby would be discharged on 25.12.2013. Hubby couldn't wait to be home too, but our hope deflated after the MO's morning round. We were told that he needed to have an ultrasound scan done but because it was a public holiday, he had to wait till the next day. At first we thought we would insist that he be allowed to go home. But having taken into account the experts' advice, that as long as the cause of pain was still unknown, we shouldn't take things for granted, we decided not to force it. I reluctantly left hubby in the ward on Christmas day, to go home to my kids, to, later, take them to visit him.
Upon reaching home, there was nothing more heartwarming then the wafting smell of cake baking in the oven, baked with love by Daddy's girl, our second girl, the baker of the family. She said she's taking the cake to cheer Daddy up at the hospital later. At visiting time, I took the kids to the hospital. In that short time, we tried to pretend that we were having a Christmas celebration, doing 'selfies' and whatever nots. Some Christmas it was :(.
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(<b>V- The lessons</b>)
Hubby was finally discharged on 26.12.2013, late in the day. Oh happy day!
When we reached home, just seeing the smiles on the three kids' faces was heaven. There definitely isn't anything more valuable than my family, but on that day, the feeling was intensified.
When I said the marriage vow of "...in good and bad times, in health and sickness, till death do us part", I could only imagine its meaning. But on the day I saw hubby doubled over with intense pain, I felt the meaning of those words. I thought I physically felt his pain and it was paralyzing. May God keep him in his tender care always.
I also learnt that help and supports from family, friends and community, in any forms, are very empowering indeed. Kind words, prayers...they are indeed balm to the soul. Only God can repay everyone for their kindness.
On a final note, I also realize that I need to overcome my fear of driving the Hilux. Should the flood have persisted that day, and there was no available ambulance, I wouldn't have been able to take hubby to the ER with the Livina. After the ordeal was over, I came out slightly tougher and resoluted that in 2014, I'll be able to drive the Hilux like any normal person can.
All in all, I still believe that everything happens for a reason. I might not always understand it, but who am I to question nature's way, to doubt God's way...Veronehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09240367782918077788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5456308302201518381.post-53805033821515902872013-08-07T21:17:00.000+08:002013-08-07T21:45:52.999+08:00Because every wedding is beautiful...(I've not been writing for a while, though there are so much to write about...but this year the extended family of my mom's side receives a few new additions through marriages that it reminds me of the time I got married, and I have to urge myself to write. In my extended family, every cousin is as good as a brother or a sister...thus, the cousins-in-law become brothers or sisters-in- law.)
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My brother got married in Feb 2013. And I earned a beautiful sister-in-law (The pic above was taken during their Dusun traditional wedding ceremony aka the <i>panau</i> 'travel, walk'). It was very exciting as I only have a sister and it was not that fun to do the girly things with just the two of us! Now there are more ladies in the family and life can't possibly get any better. In a few days, my cousin Tata Jane is marrying Kay. Since Tata is one of my favourite people ever, Kay automatically goes into my favourite people list too! So this entry is mainly for Tata, although also for my other sisters-in-law/sisters-in-law-to-be.
According to the old Dusun ways, a marriage sees that the bride becomes the husband's family's 'property'. After I got engaged in 1995, my aunty Dumie who's my father's older sister had a long talk with me, about how to become the 'perfect' Dusun wife. Aunty Dumie is very traditional, so she gives culture-based advice. The gist of which:
1. When you are married, you would then join your husband's family. You have to blend with them/learn their ways. Never ever say the names of your <i>tiwanon</i> (parents/grandparents/aunties/uncles-in-law, as something bad will happen to you.
2. You will be expected to act like one of the daughters and do the housework. Sitting around doing nothing is not only embarrasing to you, but also your parents because it would show that they didn't teach you well. (the <i>koikum-ikum</i> concept)
3. You don't complaint about your in law's family...once you are married into the family, they are your family too.
4. If your mother in law goes <i>mindahu </i>, you have to join her too. If possible, do more than her. (the <i>aparu </i>concept)
Of course, I never did go <i>mindahu</i> with my mother-in-law. I interpret no 4 as 'in my life as a modern career woman, it is understood that I won't have time to help out in the farm', plus my mother-in-law only ever does a little farming since I join the family till now. Thus, I am exempted :) (Okay okay...this is a lazy person lame excuse but it's the truth anyway).
And my uncle Peter Sanie of my mom's side, is very good at giving advice on how to be fair to both sides of parents once you are married. This uncle, who we fondly call 'Beliau' always reminds newly-weds in the family of this analogy "if you have a fish to give and you are visiting both sides of parents, you split the fish lengthwise instead of crosswise. That way both sets of parents have equal parts of the fish". Beliau is the only maternal uncle I have left, having buried the other beloved uncle just over two weeks ago :( (May his soul rest). And Beliau's advice is more significant than ever as I learn to appreciate things in life.
In my 17 years of marriage, I see the merits of the advice. Being fair to both sides of the family is a must. Yes it is impossible to be equal all the time, but at least we try. It's the thought and sincerity that count. We can't risk having any parents sulk, it would spoil your happiness. Having said that, it is also important to have time together, just the two of you. Or else the marriage faces 'burnout' and other problems that left unattended, might get bigger and kill the marriage. That's why even the Dusun people of the olden days understood the need to have a separate house once a new family was formed.
As for joining your new family, it could get awkward at first. I bet with our extended family, it's even more awkward for others to join. But slowly, it gets easier. Having parents-in-law is a blessing, really. I only have a mother-in-law but it's good enough for me. Even though we live quite a short distance from each other, I don't really get to see her that often. But when I do see her, the gossip session is always lengthy and entertaining. Being the expressive person that she is, she would tell me all about the people in her <i>kampung</i> that I feel I know everyone. Our session can extend well over midnight, making me feel that I have learned a little bit more about life each time we gossip. Everyone will get a mother-in-law with different personalities. Be open-minded. It doesn't do to have a set of rigid expectations on them. Take them as they are and they'll take you as you are too.
Do we still uphold the <i>koikum-ikum </i>and <i>aparu</i> concepts? Common sense will dictate that we do to a certain extent. It is expected in the community that we do not just sit around doing nothing in our own house, let alone in our in-law's place. Not because we want to show off, but that really should be the way. Doing the housework together also does more than just merely getting the chores done. It helps in bonding. The best extended family time for me is always in the kitchen...when some family members cook, some clean, some eat, and some simply talk. It works in both side of my own family and my husband's family. I feel that I get to know the family members better from this activity.
Not saying the names of your <i>tiwanon</i> can present difficulties sometimes. When people ask who's your father-in-law, how are you supposed to tell them if you are not allowed to say their names, right? To me, I'd just say it...after all it is for a real thing. I know of some people who will spell the names of their in-laws out loud when asked, though. Salute for that respectfulness. Well, our late grandfather Leo K used to say, <i>'sumilou o totud'</i> (knee would turn yellow) if you say the names of your elderly relatives...and <i>tiwanon</i>. Take your pick...you want to be as Dusun as can be, our a modern Dusun who respects the traditions and modifies some!
Anyway, unfortunately I have never been in a session in which a male relative is being given a pre-marriage talk. But experience tells that a man is expected to provide for his family. Any humble job will do- farming, doing odd jobs, any, as long as he puts food on the table. I supposed, to Kay and all my other brothers/cousins, I can only say try to give the best to your wives and (future) children. Adding a modern interpretation to this, I'd say, see not only to their physical needs, but also the emotional needs ;). Females are complicated creatures...never expect them to think, act an speak like you men do!
Lastly, I have learned through the years that the golden key to a solid marriage is honest communication between the wife and the husband. We no longer live in those days where the Dusun wives were expected to be silent and to accept the husbands' mistakes without any say. Thank God for that and let's make use of that right. Say what you want to say to each other, with tolerance because no one is perfect. You might feel that at that moment you dislike your partner very much because you are not happy with him/her, but just remember even then that you love each other to have married one another. After that, make peace with each other and live in the love you have found in one another.
Because every wedding is beautiful...I believe yours has a great love story to tell. May the love you have found in each other lasts for eternity.Veronehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09240367782918077788noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5456308302201518381.post-75929253805907430102012-09-23T00:14:00.001+08:002012-09-23T00:14:14.040+08:00Lyrical prayersI think the closest persons to language teachers in the olden days in the Dusun community were the <i>bobolians</i>. To be one of them, one has to go through a few stages of learning and memorizing prayers for numerous occasions. Pronunciation was of utmost importance in saying a prayer. Should a bobolian mispronounced a word, leave out a part, or leave the prayer unfinished, the wrath of the bad spirit would cause her and her family members to be sick. And the length of the prayer ranged from three minutes to one hour! Imagine, saying a one-hour prayer without a single mistake in pronunciation, words, and phrases. I would have failed miserably...
Anyway, as I read through old research notes, suddenly I appreciate the beauty of a prayer that a bobolian was kind enough to share. What lyrical prayer! It's the prayer for protection. The ritual involved releasing the bobolian's spirit to soar like an eagle to seek the Creator's blessing, carrying with her a rock, a wooden stick, and some water. Upon reaching the Creator she'd ask for His blessing to be imparted on the things she brought, and the Creator would say:
Onuo ilo pampang om puruto ilo dandas
(so pick up the rock, pick up the rock) - pampang/dandas = rock (synonyms)
pampang turu sonsusun
(seven rocks arranged together)
dandas walu sonsugo
(eight rocks arranged together) - sonsusun/sonsugo = in an arrangement (synonyms)
om onuon nu'd poningolig
(and those taken to protect)
puruton nu'd poningobon
(those taken to protect) - poningolig/poningobon = things used to protect(synonyms)
There's a lot of meaning repetitions, using different words to emphasise the intention I presume.
The rest of the prayer is very long, and beautiful...I like the bit where the Creator said:
Ogumu noddi narangkai nu,
(you have collected a lot [of blessing])
asapou noddi naraut nu
(you have gathered heavy [blessing])
anu 'lo poposdu
(get some of the cleansing water)
purut dilo lituntug
(get a bit of the cleansing water)
...
and empowered her to use the water as 'holy water' to get rid of illnesses.
Sometimes I wonder how would it have been had I lived in those days...
Veronehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09240367782918077788noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5456308302201518381.post-49553071381151245672012-07-25T00:10:00.002+08:002012-07-25T00:25:48.549+08:00Appearance is deceiving<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My aunt told us this story yesterday- she went to our small town post office to get a parcel for my cousin. There was an old man queueing up to do a banking (Amanah Saham) transaction. He wasn't sure what form to use, so my kind aunt assisted him. He asked some people to help him fill up the details on the form, but none was willing to. Seeing that, my aunt offered to help. When she asked him how much money would he like to bank in, he said "ten, and 500 for the wife". It turned out that he was banking in "10,000". He gave my aunt a 10 ringgit tips after she had completed the two forms for him. She refused, but he insisted...and I bet those three people he approached to help him earlier were shocked to know he had that much money to bank in.
Well, he reminds me of my late grandfather, my aunt's father. He used to go to town wearing simple clothes, and a baseball hat, with his old green kantung (canvas sling bag) that had seen better days. He would sell bahar (coconut sap) at the weekend tamu (open market) and since he was the only one that had a licence to sell 'alcoholic beverages' in the whole tamu then,(bahar is alcoholic!), he would let others sell under his name and taxed them RM1 per day. Being the hardworking man he was, he often managed to bank in quite a large amount of money at a time, just like the old man that my aunt helped. My grandfather was illiterate, unless if you consider being able to write his name and a few simple sentences literate. [The most hilarious thing he ever wrote was "PANABUT (Penyabut) ATAS ATAP" (screwdrive on the roof),on one of the walls of his house, that was meant for his children, but could have easily gotten him robbed if the wrong party saw it. Anyway, that was 'ama' = 'father' (that's what his children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren called him)].
Moral- an ugly looking Dusun person might have lots of money on them.
(phew, writing this makes me miss my late grandfather very much)Veronehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09240367782918077788noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5456308302201518381.post-14657260847491805512012-06-29T01:20:00.000+08:002012-06-29T10:11:49.613+08:00The boardgame and the flashcards<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Before the era of online games in my household, the kids and I played a lot of UNO, Snake and Ladder and Monopoly. There were other games of course, but for some reason, the kids kept asking me to play these games with them. So it was no surprise that these three games had influenced the Dusun Cultural boardgame that my friend and I invented recently. It started in a very peculiar manner. We were trying to bear one of those long, repetitive 'department' meetings, and ended up talking about our research and how we could possibly combine our knowledge in creating a language boardgame. My friend scribbled down some ideas, as we excitedly brainstormed in whispers. We got through the meeting, and ended up with loads of ideas for an ambitious game.
To cut a long story short, the end product though wasn't as elaborated as we planned it initially because of time constraints. I decided to take on the task of game designer, based on some of the friend's research findings. We selected a few words relevant to the culture of the Dusun people- of which, some are not in use anymore. We thought it would be great to teach the learners these words (in our case in UMS, the learners are non-native speakers of any Kadazandusun dialects, thus learning the KD language as a third language).
Because we didn't even have the time to rope in our friends who are IT experts in UMS, we have (or rather I have) begged <a href="http://www.kastumized.com/">Kastumized.com</a> to transfer our game concepts into IT. I am very impressed that despite having less than a week to do it, they actually did a wonderful job. They gave us a wonderful board and rewards/sanction cards. And my son lent me his lego pieces to be the player icons. A dice completed the game. The night before we presented the game for the PEREKA (literally 'inventor') competition in UMS, I had some KD students played it (before, I piloted on my 3 kids-the best critics, twice). When I saw my students having so much fun playing it, I knew we had done something worthwhile.
And yes, we bagged a Silver Medal for that simple game. Credits to Kastumized.com team, of course!
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Well, another kastumized.com story. I have always been personally impressed with this young company, run by a team of resourceful, smart, and versatile young professionals. Their recent product is a set of English-Kadazandusun flashcards. I have willingly vetted the contents based on my knowledge of 'Kadazandusun'. To those who are not aware of the language scenario in Sabah, there are many labels used to refer to the various ethnic and language groups sharing similar culture and dialects. Kadazandusun is the general term used nowadays to refer to the many ethnic groups who share the same culture and speak dialects of the same language.
Many would be familiar with the term Kadazan, most often associated with the 'Kadazandusun' people of Penampang and Papar areas. Dusun, is also quite a popular term. I refer to myself as Dusun, as I believe I should define my ethnicity based on the language of my community. To be specific, I am a Bundu Dusun. Now, Bundu and Liwan are two prominent dialects spoken in most areas (mostly interior)in Sabah. You'd find Bundu in Kota Belud, Kota Marudu, Tamparuli, and Ranau, mostly. While you'll find Liwan in Ranau, Tambunan and Keningau, mostly. Among Bundu and Liwan themselves, there are many other labels and sub-dialects.
My friend's phd research (the friend who co-created the boardgame) is on the political system of the Kadazandusun people. (and he is not even a Kadazandusun- he is from Malaya). For over 4 years he went to all the places inhabited by the different Kadazandusun people in Sabah, and has come to this conclusion: 'The most widely spoken dialects of Kadazandusun are Bundu and Liwan'. I am quite relief to hear that. Not because I am a Bundu speaker. But because it justifies the merit of basing the so called standard Kadazandusun language taught in Sabah schools on Bundu/Liwan. Dusun Sokid (another referent :)= meaning 'upper', 'hill') or not, these dialects actually count.
What has that piece of long info got to do with the flashcards? Well, because in Sabah, any sincere and innocent efforts to add to the existing Kadazandusun educational aids will STILL be CRITISISED. I don't blame people for criticising. It's human nature after all. If one said, for example, that the word 'Kolibambang' is wrong for 'butterfly' because in their dialect it is 'Bambayangan', it is merely a dialectal difference. I did a few months data collection among speakers of Bundu, have been living next door to Liwan speakers most of my life, and know for a fact that 'Kolibambang' means 'butterflies' (you know those beautiful, colourful bugs) in these dialects. So yeah, there's no satisfying people. The only way to be satisfied is to do the research yourself- I am lucky I am in the position to do so. And I always encourage the Kadazandusun people to enrich the standard KD languages by having a lot of synonyms (next project, Kastumized? Kadazandusun synonyms :). So we can have bambayangan and kolibambang as synonyms, and be happy!
Anyhow, the intention was to congratulate Kastumized for the flashcards. The size was a bit small for me, but just nice for my son who has been devotedly reading the cards day by day. His conclusion was ' That's all, Mom?". Obviously wanting more!Veronehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09240367782918077788noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5456308302201518381.post-24727102982710984592012-05-27T22:05:00.001+08:002012-05-27T22:07:49.197+08:00Sinurambi<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qyuXC5nRuY4/T8IqPn6gRpI/AAAAAAAAA8I/p3r6dHJ0rqA/s1600/sinurambi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="170" width="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qyuXC5nRuY4/T8IqPn6gRpI/AAAAAAAAA8I/p3r6dHJ0rqA/s320/sinurambi.jpg" /></a></div>
This is how they look like. Sinurambi, the dwelling place of the Dusun long ago. (Well, not quite- some Dusun in some villages still live in huts like these). I haven't seen these in my (father's) kampung for years, except in the tumoh (farms). Not in the actual housing areas, in which the houses you can see are the standard brick/wooden combination. This year, the Kaamatan organizers came up with this wonderful idea of having 'most impressive sinurambi' competition. I would say this is not one easy competition. A lot of efforts and time are involved, but the villagers delightedly participated. They were divided into groups, and it took them days to build their sinurambis. Not an easy task at all. Selecting the best bamboos, manata' (flattening the bamboo in order to make the floor and walls), putting the parts together. The architecture might not seem much, but I am proud to see these. To me, this is one of the most meaningful aspects of kaamatan. Popotungkus do koubasanan kumaa doid sukod wagu (passing down tradition to the young generation).
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(The winner of the most impressive sinurambi competition)
I regret not being able to go back to my kampung (duty call). Thankfully hubby shared these pics. Kotobian tadau kaamatan folks. May the year ahead is abound with blessings and fruits of your labour!Veronehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09240367782918077788noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5456308302201518381.post-66234022927375032542012-04-25T21:41:00.001+08:002012-04-25T21:49:41.698+08:00Thank you for being my Dad<iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/w5eOWl9XXQQ" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
It wasn't a common practice for a Dusun to explicitly appreciate his/her parents. In my household, I didn't grow up seeing family members express their 'thank yous' and 'I love yous'. In fact what I remember most from my childhood is when an older member of the family behaved weirdly (as in starting to be forgetful, or being incoherent) the younger family members would raise their voices to the person. If one is an outsider, one would undoubtedly look at that kind of treatment as 'mean' and perhaps 'ungrateful'.
There were times when I got confused, myself. In my mind I often wondered whether I was supposed to treat the older person that way or not. I supposed having gone to school with the mainstreamers (so-called modern people), and having been taught about certain ways to respect the older members of the family in moral and religion classes contributed to the confusion. But I now understand that that kind of treatment was never intended to be negative. From conversations with many people of my mom and grandmother's generations, I deduce that life is perceived as a circle. One starts as a baby, one will end up being 'a baby' too (limited mobility, limited brain capability etc), because that was how it used to be with the community. Just like a little child is 'corrected' by his/her parents' raised voice, an elderly person who behaves like a child is also corrected the same way.
I am glad that we do not have to confine ourselves to that culture anymore. I still feel awkward saying 'I love you' to my parents because I don't remember them ever saying that to me. But I encourage myself to say that to my kids and dear hubby because I think life is so wasted without hearing those beautiful words said to you.
When I came across this song "Thank you for being my Dad", I feel so much like appreciating my Dad. For all the things he has ever done. Despite the mistakes that he did in the process of becoming the Dad he is now. I feel blessed for still having a Dad. Thank you Bapa, for being my Dad.Veronehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09240367782918077788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5456308302201518381.post-63289665215037458792012-04-12T14:19:00.005+08:002012-04-12T15:55:02.416+08:00What a song does (re: "Koposionku")<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PVCj2LidPXA/T4aI-AQ8s5I/AAAAAAAAA7E/WLn2qYP6fcc/s1600/DSC_9831.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PVCj2LidPXA/T4aI-AQ8s5I/AAAAAAAAA7E/WLn2qYP6fcc/s320/DSC_9831.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5730418174679888786" /></a><br />Sometimes when you hear a certain song, you feel that it penetrates deep into your soul. Even if you don't understand the language of the song, it still touches your heart deeply. And when you understand the lyrics, the song is even more meaningful. <br /><br />Fabian William's "Koposionku" is one such song. I don't speak music, but I feel that the music and lyrics of this song match very well. (And yes, I know this is the third entry on Fabian William that I've written but I just can't help it :). As my students put it, we have caught the Fabian Virus.) But seriously, "Koposionku" communicates pain and strength beautifully using gripping metaphors. By now, after listening to Fabian's 10 songs over and over again, I've started to see metaphors as his trademark. His, are uniquely Dusun, that can only be fully appreciated if you know the Dusun culture well. Here's my attempt to understand "Koposionku" (My apologies that my translation doesn't do justice to the beauty of his expression in Dusun):<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Koposionku</span><br /><br />Nokito, naratu om nababak<br />iso ginawo nosungkadan<br />nosindualan, natagakan<br />kagarasan di naramit<br />(What is seen is a heart: fallen, broken, pierced. Lost the strength it received)<br /><br />Om au tumonob ilo tadau<br />nung au tumalib kotuongon<br />ilo gompoton au rumikot<br />nung gompion ginawo di nosuhat<br />(and the sun doesn't set, if the darkness doesn't pass, what is desired won't come, if [you] hold on to your broken heart]<br /><br />kibito nimpusadan<br />suloko liud tumuka<br />igitai gamut kotumbayaan<br />om au noh orulun kumaa id sawa<br />[don't reject the tears [<span style="font-style:italic;">there's no exact translation for 'nimpusadan'</span>], walk through the flood while holding on to [your] faith, so that [you] won't get washed away downstream]<br /><br />Oposik, tumungag om mingkakat<br />mamanau miagal dilo wokon<br />kosindualan, koinggoritan<br />uludon, impohon tumindal<br />[[then you'd be] awake, get up and stand, walk like others do [with pride]. The pain, the suffering, arrange them and step on them to resurface [overcome your pain])<br /><br />This song is also a bonus to my Kadazandusun class this semester. The verbs exemplify events that one doesn't have control over (accidental action- as we call it in my classroom). What better way to learn than through songs, I'd say.Veronehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09240367782918077788noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5456308302201518381.post-52677845348745591472012-03-24T23:06:00.003+08:002012-03-25T00:07:53.825+08:00Datuk Masidi Manjun- a Dusun guy one can respect<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xmamIUUp600/T23nqYX1j0I/AAAAAAAAA64/lBLSMTKaO2A/s1600/DSC_9855.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xmamIUUp600/T23nqYX1j0I/AAAAAAAAA64/lBLSMTKaO2A/s320/DSC_9855.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5723485416740720450" /></a><br /><br />I just came back from the launch of Fabian William's album, Id Pagandadan at the Le Meridien Hotel, Kota Kinabalu. Believe it or not, this is the first time I've ever attended an album launch. I have loved the experience. Fabian, as expected, performed excellently. In fact his voice is much better live.<br /><br />Anyway, the album was launched by Datuk Masidi Manjun, the minister at the Ministry of Tourism, Culture and Environment. He himself is from Ranau, so it comes as no surprise that he is very supportive of the new artist. But one thing for sure, he is a person that one can really respect. I have attended a few functions in which he gives speeches, and at the end of each function, I always arrived at the same conclusion- his speech has substance. <br /><br />At the launch, he honestly appraised Fabian's songs. 9 out of the 10 in the album he finds excellent. "Fabian's lyrics are deep (using 'deep' Dusun) and fresh", he said. And he reminded everyone present never to think "I am the best of the best" because out there, there must be somebody who's better than you, but they haven't had the chance to shine as yet. In short, he reminded everyone to always be humble, because humility will take us far.<br /><br />I'm oblivious to what critics say about him. So far, what I've experienced with him were all positive. Intelligent, witty, humble, non-descriminative, to name some of his traits, I'll remain one of his steadfast admirers.Veronehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09240367782918077788noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5456308302201518381.post-16457708389451036012012-03-23T07:03:00.002+08:002012-03-23T07:11:48.386+08:00The girl who gave me a massage<a href="https://encrypted-tbn1.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcR5vHpom7tzTw1oIxfLUj43xtZ75U4VPfUEQ1Ud39EZ1v5i7RLx"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 256px; height: 197px;" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcR5vHpom7tzTw1oIxfLUj43xtZ75U4VPfUEQ1Ud39EZ1v5i7RLx" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />She reminded me of sunflowers, for whatever reason, but never once did I ask her name, despite being quite a regular customer at the reflexology centre. But I always asked for her because I liked the way she kneaded my feet. In December 2011 she said she was going to get married, and wouldn't be working there anymore. I felt sorry that I won't be enjoying her massage anymore in the future.<br /><br />I didn't go to the place again, until this month. I was desperate for a massage, so I went. What a pleasant surprise to see her there! We started chatting like old friends ( and I realized then that people often mean more to us than we ever realize). I asked her about her wedding, and she told me everything down to the last details.<br /><br />Then I blurt out "so, your parents are separated?", having deduced from the conversation that she had the wedding at her mother's place. "Yes, since I was 12", she said matter of factly. Then without me asking, she went on to tell me how, when she was about to sit for her UPSR (year 6) exam, her father 'borrowed' her from her mother, saying that he was going to get her Malaysian Identification made (they are of Philippine descent). He, who then was married to a local and had a newborn baby decided to keep her for good to be their convenient babysitter. She begged him to let her go to school, but he could not be bothered to listen to her. And she ended up being her father and stepmother's 'amah' for 7 years. The only good thing to have been living with her father and stepmother for her was that the step-grandmother was very good at traditional massage, and she taught her to do it.<br /><br />"So when I turned 20, I stole my identity card from my father, left his home, and went back to my mother (who lives 8 hours drive away)", she ended her story. I admire the girl her spirit. Not everyone would have survived the way she had, and still could make a decent living. I'm glad I know her story- it has made me appreciate more the things I tend to take for granted like access to education.<br /><br />I came out of the reflexology center a little bit wiser, and I made sure I asked her her name this time. Although in my culture, not asking somebody's name is not rude; it's even encouraged, I'm glad I can now call her name whenever I see her.Veronehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09240367782918077788noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5456308302201518381.post-51621913613046377772012-03-13T06:41:00.004+08:002012-03-13T07:53:08.408+08:00Kadazandusun University?<a href="https://encrypted-tbn2.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTaLgC1MMEY-mRh0LS9vCuhoKnjd50gzldQEq2P5swCDi7YTev2"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 259px; height: 194px;" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTaLgC1MMEY-mRh0LS9vCuhoKnjd50gzldQEq2P5swCDi7YTev2" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />The first thing that caught my eyes on the front page of Daily Express yesterday was the headline about how a certain organisation in Sabah is going to set up a Kadazandusun University. No further comments were given on the nature of the uni, apart from the fact it is going to be set up in Kaingaran, Tambunan.<br /><br />At the risk of offending many people, I have to say I cannot see the merits of having a Kadazandusun Uni in Sabah. Of course this reaction is merely based on assumptions, as there are no other known facts on the plan yet. I am imagining a scenario where there is a university that functions like any other univeristy, tucked somewhere in Tambunan, attended by 60% Kadazandusuns. These kids would mostly be from the rural areas whose parents cannot afford to send them elsewhere to study. They would have had attended schools in the localities of Kadazandusun ethnic groups for about 12 years before going to the Kadazandusun Uni. After they have finished their tertiary education, they would come out without much new perspective since all they have been exposed to in their lives were the Kadazandusun things. Would they, I wonder, ever get good employments with such limited experience? If I were an employer, I think one of the things I'd look for would be one's ability to be a team player in a multicultural setting.<br /><br />I have this nagging doubt about the plan to have this KD Uni. I would even be more sceptical if somebody tries to set up a Kadazandusun Studies programme in the uni. I supposed the people with the big idea wouldn't have much ideas of how difficult it is to come up with grammar books, or any books that describe any of the KD languages. A research takes years to do, even on one dialect of KD. Textbook writings do not happen overnight, that is, if you want quality. Perhaps we shouldn't leap before we look?Veronehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09240367782918077788noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5456308302201518381.post-13387679561397227862012-03-08T09:25:00.003+08:002012-03-08T09:41:38.732+08:00Thanks Tata Jane and Kastumized!It's quite handy to have an IT expert in the family :). In ours, <a href="http://tatajane.blogspot.com/">Tata Jane</a> is one of them. And she enjoys designing things, hence the company <a href="http://www.kastumized.com/">Kastumized Kreations</a>. Being a family member, yours truly gets freebies from time to time, like today. Tata redesigned my blog, and I say "yay, I like!". It's too bad Tata was born 10 years later than me, or else I would have hired her to customize my wedding stuffs. But perhaps it's not too late. In this era where everyone celebrates wedding anniversaries, I might just celebrate my Silver Jubilee in 9 years time and get her to design me something sweet.<br /><br />By the by, this year in December, I'd be celebrating my 16th year of matrimony. Hubby and I are thinking of doing a special family photography session with all the frills. That way the kids will get to wear the bridesmaid dresses and a bridegroom suit. Then they can joke that they are in the pic on my wedding day. (I remember when Sandra, the eldest girl was about 4, she was looking at the family photo taken on my wedding day and puzzling over why she wasn't in the photo :)!)<br /><br />Anyway,thanks Tata and Kastumized. People out there, if you are looking for something sweet for any celebration, look for Tata. She delivers what she promises!Veronehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09240367782918077788noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5456308302201518381.post-55248361186889948682012-03-06T20:46:00.003+08:002012-03-06T21:07:49.027+08:00Cure for toothache<a href="https://encrypted-tbn2.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSJXkMD7VDCSj1MhGfi7VGnOs9rkUztvZIUtiRi6whAkSTbX0g5TA"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 217px; height: 233px;" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSJXkMD7VDCSj1MhGfi7VGnOs9rkUztvZIUtiRi6whAkSTbX0g5TA" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />I must be one of the eldest wisdom-tooth problem sufferers in the world. 38 going 39 years old and still having the problem :(. Those who have experienced the pain before would know how unpleasant it is. <br /><br />As I looked around for domestic cure, I suddenly remembered my late grandmother. She would have had come up with a solution for any ailments. When I was a little kid, her toothache remedy was the the bark of a mango tree (I still remember that particular mango tree). Pounded till the bark turned into a gooey green paste. Then she would rub it on my gum and filled up the hole on my tooth with it. I'd go to sleep and for some reason, after waking up the pain was always gone. Either that thing was really medicinal, or it was just psychological, it worked anyway.<br /><br />I have a mango tree outside the house, but I just dare not try doing it 'without the supervision of an expert'. Who knows I might end up poisoning myself? So, *sigh*, I have to make do with gurgling with salt water, and rubbing lots of bonjella gel on my gum. I wish I was a child again, being tended to by grandmother...Veronehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09240367782918077788noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5456308302201518381.post-8229662864411292612012-03-01T20:03:00.004+08:002012-03-01T22:57:32.596+08:00Id Pagandadan<iframe width="560" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/8nrfMpo615A" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br /><br />As the Dusun tradition goes, a person who makes the community proud is a celebrity in his own right. We like to fondly talk about the person, even if in actual fact we may never have met him. We'd try very hard to establish some kind of relationship with him, and we'd dig very hard till our mission is accomplished. It's quite amazing what one always discovers- he'd turn out to be a distance relative, a cousin twice removed, a neighbour, a friend of one of the family members, or even somebody that one of one's acquintances knows.<br /><br />Today I'm basking in this tradition, for I am proud of the person who sings this song 'Id pagandadan' (While Waiting). Fabian William hails from my humble hometown, Ranau. He also happens to be a close friend of one of my brothers (see, I have unearthed one type of relationship :)) and his family is known to my family (another relationship). But best of all, his music is beautiful. I hope he'll produce more such beautiful music in the future. Way to go Fabian!Veronehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09240367782918077788noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5456308302201518381.post-79605957659598528562012-02-26T21:13:00.003+08:002012-02-26T21:31:41.706+08:00"Your bag will get anted"<a href="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRO3IVZatEDMkypDOzdY-XAI11y7369UTfX7OazsBL3zKM2T_vt2g"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 128px;" src="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRO3IVZatEDMkypDOzdY-XAI11y7369UTfX7OazsBL3zKM2T_vt2g" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />My daughter had to bring sugar, asam boi powder and guava for her fruit preservation project at school. I prepared the items for her on Wednesday night, put them in a small shopping bag and she was all set. The next day she came home beaming, telling me that the project went well and they (the class pupils) could eat the preserved fruits on Friday. As Friday was a busy day for me, I forgot to remind her to take out the remains of her project items from the bag, and as expected she forgot to do it.<br /><br />On Saturday, when I finally remembered, I asked her about it. When she admitted having forgotten to put the sugar back in the kitchen, I exclaimed "your bag will get anted", and surprisingly she didn't find the sentence funny. Later she asked me, "Mom, why did you say 'get anted'? Don't you know that 'ant' is a noun?". I laughed and told her the way I think must be becoming more and more Dusun. In Dusun you can almost use every root word as a noun or a verb, depending on how you phrase it. English does that too to a certain extent, like - this is a house, and this building can house 500 persons. <br /><br />Oh well, I just finished rewriting the two teaching modules that UMS uses for Kadazandusun Levels 1 and 3. That must have affected me more than I realized that my English is starting to sound Dusun. Anyway, I like it that my daughter has this kind of language awareness...perhaps I can still hope that one day she would be able to speak Dusun fluently.Veronehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09240367782918077788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5456308302201518381.post-30143344260915186522012-02-11T22:29:00.004+08:002012-02-11T23:28:00.954+08:00Metaphorically speaking- body parts<a href="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcS1vs6VVsfzjCi8xxLOpIf4JHGnD_5LM5Ph83RdDcRkfYHZJXnD"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 183px; height: 275px;" src="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcS1vs6VVsfzjCi8xxLOpIf4JHGnD_5LM5Ph83RdDcRkfYHZJXnD" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />By now when a member of the community says a <span style="font-style:italic;">sundait</span> (riddle) that conjures up an erotic image, I no longer blush. Being much older (and wiser? :)), I decided that I can take it. But long time ago when I was a growing child, one of the most awkward moments was to hear people say such <span style="font-style:italic;">sundaits</span>. Nowadays, I can appreciate the clever ways of language play using body parts that the Dusun people use in their riddles.<br /><br />I suddenly came across some of them as I was reading a book called <span style="font-style:italic;">Warisan Budaya Sabah: Etnisiti dan Masyarakat</span>, and feel compelled to share them here. Mind you, if you are used to people using polite language all the time, you might experience a minor shock attack as you read some of these!<br /><br />Sundait 1-<br /><br />Wangkangonku gakod nu, posuangonku watangku, osonong opurimanan.<br />(I spread your legs, I enter my log, oh how wonderful)<br />Answer: Spectacles<br /><br />Sundait 2-<br /><br />Kitundu-undu o tulu- <br />(There's a heart on top of the head)<br />Answer: Banana blossom<br /><br />Sundait 3-<br />Aiso kabang aiso busul<br />(No mouth, no anus)<br />Answer: Leech<br /><br />Sundait 4-<br />Osodu ko po om rubaon ko do tulang<br />(From a distance, bone meets you)<br />Answer: Teeth<br /><br />Sundait 5- <br />Milapus-lapus kito, mitirung-tirung kito, au kopikito nga kopilapus<br />(We penetrate each other, we hide from each other, unable to see (each other) but still able to penetrate each other)<br />Answer: Ears<br /><br />Sundait 6-<br />Iso tulu, onom hakod, kombit-kombiton yi odu-odu yi aki-aki<br />(One head, six legs, strummed by the grandmothers and the grandfathers)<br />Answer: Tongkungon (a musical instrument)<br /><br />Sundait 7:<br />"Tik" ka llo mantik, panakalamou poo<br />("Tik", the 'mantik' slides on the thigh)<br />Answer: Matches<br /><br />Sundait 8:<br />Monguni susu di odu<br />(Grandmother's breast produces sound)<br />Answer: Sompoton (a type of musical instrument)<br /><br />Sundait 9:<br />Iduon garung, okito hulu. Iduon hulu, okito tonsi. Iduon tonsi, okito puun.<br />(Take off the clothes, the hair is seen. Remove the hair, the flesh is seen. Remove the flesh, the stem is seen)<br />Answer: Corn<br /><br />Sundait 10:<br />Poingundul o tonsilot.<br />(The clitoris is erected)<br />Answer: Tobacco chew<br /><br />(These sundaits are courtesy of Mr Lokman Abdul Samad, a colleague at UMS-translation, my own and the mistakes are all mine!)<br /><br />If you ask me if I am good at this kind of language, I'd have to humbly admit that I don't. (Once, the hubby said "you are supposed to be good at this" but how can I when I did not grow up in that environment?) I wish I am. As most aspects of the culture slip through my fingers, the only thing I can do now is to appreciate and keep what little I know...Veronehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09240367782918077788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5456308302201518381.post-40187396709465909842012-01-13T20:26:00.003+08:002012-01-13T21:00:44.508+08:00Small town politeness<a href="http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRWqTW4ZDlnX0quqkLaS1QDAqKO0z7S9CwTqTWgbD3WsBiF0eaPSNHmsylmhA"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 180px; height: 144px;" src="http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRWqTW4ZDlnX0quqkLaS1QDAqKO0z7S9CwTqTWgbD3WsBiF0eaPSNHmsylmhA" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />My father doesn't read blogs so I have no qualms writing about him :). He is the epitome of polite Dusuns; small town style. He'd greet anyone, known or unknown to him with the typical Dusun pleasantries like 'hombo ngoyon nu?' (where are you going?), and 'hiti ko pama iya ddi' (you are here also). I often find it funny greeting somebody you hardly know in places like hospitals or restaurants, but to my father, it is 'the right thing to do'. "After all", he reasons, "you are sharing the same space as the person, so you can't be just ignoring one another".<br /><br />Sometimes he goes overboard. Like the day when he was at a restaurant in Kota Kinabalu with two of my brothers. They had breakfast and when they left, my father nicely wished his next- table-neighbours a polite "makanlah kamu" (enjoy your meal) "kami mau pigi bank ini" (we are going to the bank). Needless to say, it was both hilarious and embarrassing to my brothers. They joked about it for many days! <br /><br />But the worst I've experienced with his over-politeness tendency was when we were attending a session in which my father's land dispute was heard by some officers. While waiting to be called in, he noticed this lone guy sitting opposite him on the bench outside the office. He politely offered his hand to the guy (well, shaking hands is another indication of politeness) and said "hiti ko pama iya ddi" (you are also here) as if he knew him. To my horror, once inside the dispute hearing room, we found out that the guy was the one my father was versing in the case! If I were my father, I'd have been so uncomfortable that I'd have difficulty responding appropriately to the discussion. It's a good thing that my father didn't seem to have been affected.<br /><br />I suppose his kind of politeness is the simple kind. Words uttered politely and sincerely at that point of time, and even if those words are spoken to the wrong person, he has got nothing to lose.Veronehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09240367782918077788noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5456308302201518381.post-35082896202778070282011-12-24T12:44:00.003+08:002011-12-24T23:35:26.984+08:00The wisdom of 'kuroyon poh' (acceptance)<a href="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcR6BbQg_vLZcTCxHM2LHe50jJUce-jI6RE6oj_bS7R2sD2P2XJEsw"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 271px; height: 186px;" src="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcR6BbQg_vLZcTCxHM2LHe50jJUce-jI6RE6oj_bS7R2sD2P2XJEsw" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />I guess in many culture there is a concept that is equivalent to the Dusun's <span style="font-style:italic;">kuroyon poh</span> (acceptance). Although it sounds lame, I learned yesterday that there is a wisdom in it.<br /><br />Well, being pick-pocketed isn't something anyone would want to happen to them. But when it happened, it happened. And of all the time, it happened to me on 23.12.2011, two days before christmas, just as I was in the high spirit of completing my christmas shopping. I can blame myself for being careless if I want to actually, because after all the years living in KL, I should know that it is a bad idea to carry so much cash and put all the cards in one place, but I did anyway. So all my cards and christmas shopping money were gone :(.<br /><br />Somehow, the concept <span style="font-style:italic;">kuroyon poh</span> surfaced and kept me sane. I guess underlying that is the knowing that there are things that you just cannot change, thus the best thing you could do is to accept them. By doing that, you feel better, knowing that there was nothing you could do to change it now. (and in my case, it would be once bitten twice shy!) Of course the situation is not fun at all but at least I'm not making it worst by whining and regretting. And I still intend to have a good christmas despite that. Who knows next year I might get better luck?<br /><br />Wherever you are, have yourselves a very merry holiday, whether or not you celebrate christmas :)Veronehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09240367782918077788noreply@blogger.com1