THE TREE OF MUHAMMAD

The Tree of Muhammad

I am a tree,

And I have been created

Complete in my perfection,

You may take sustenance from 

My deepest roots to the highest

Leaf or flower that bloom from me,

You may pick my low lying fruits,

You may take shelter beneath me 

From the heat of the sun

From the wetness of the rain,

And from the hubris of men,

You may approach me from 

Any direction, and along any path,

For I am created to endure 

And for as long as the forest remains

I shall always be here, waiting for you,

Indeed, by my Most Merciful Lord,

I was created that you may be created,

And If you think your desire and longing for me is great,

Lo, You will not bear to know my desire

And longing for you!

Who will come to me?

Who will sit under my shade?

Who will rest his weary troubles on me?

Who will share my fruits and my nectar?

Who will take delight in my company?

........................ 

What is a tree? It is a living breathing organism without whom we would perish and this world would be a dead soulless planet. Yesterday morning Heche and me were buying breakfast from a street pedlar who was selling his nasi lemak under a tree by a busy suburban street. As I was waiting for Heche to complete our transaction I stood next to the tree and wondered in my wandering whim, "How many countless people have passed you by, o' Tree, barely noticing your existence, yet taking shelter beneath your rich green foliage?"

As we rush through our daily life, filled with distractions and illusions of this world, we often forget what truly matters. I thanked the tree for giving me a shade, and gently pressed my palm against its brittle grey bark. In the name of God that made you, thank you! In the name of the Prophet, thank you for your beauty!

Sarawak. When I was away in Sarawak, I was often close to tears. Not out of sadness, but joy. And a sense of overwhelming thankfulness for being surrounded by my beautiful friends, and beautiful trees. Arriving early in the town of Kuching I was brought to a cemetery near my friend's house to visit his late father, grandparents and great grandfather.

There, nestled among the shrubbery and trees, I found his ancestors's graves and the historical link to a beautiful history.  And I, Taufiq the recalcitrant sinner, playing an unlikely part in my friend's own story.  Winding through history like a path through the spiritual station of honoured ones, we find ourselves here today - somewhere in the most beautiful lore of the Prophet Muhammad (saws). Thus, our sincere prayers is that Allah (swt) shall allow us to contribute a chapter to His Habibullah's (saws) story, whether as a beautiful rose or even a fern or a humble blade of grass or moss... That is enough already.

Don't you agree, sunshine?

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

THE HADRA... Immortals whirl and Nightingales sing!

The Hadra

You see guitars, drums, clarinets and cellos,

But I see instruments of worship with sounds hallowed,

You hear pop songs and think they sound wrong,

But I hear echos of choirs and heavenly songs,

You see kids jumping and dancing mad,

But I see bright young souls yearning

For the Hadra they never had

........................

The Hadra. According to the Wiki.. "Haḍra (Arabic: حضرة‎) is a collective supererogatory ritual performed by Sufi orders. It is often held on Thursday evenings after the night prayer, on Fridays after Jum`a prayer or on Sunday evenings, and can also celebrated on special Islamic festivals and at rites of passage. It may be held at home, in a mosque, in a Sufi hospice or elsewhere. The term in Arabic literally means "presence"..."

Whirling Calling Praising

Whirling, whirling, whirling,

Words pour out of mortal hearts,

Calling, calling, calling,

Prayers stumble from human lips,

Praising, praising, praising,

While the tired pass the night in sleep

Immortals whirl and Nightingales sing,

Drinking the Ocean timeless and deep!

.......................

I have been out of touch with the band of dervishes that make their spiritual home not far from my house. Been busy, ya' know.... with dunya (worldly) matters. He he he.

Missing Kuching. The pictures above however are not from my neighbourhood, but was taken in Kuching, Sarawak on the island of Kalimantan/Borneo. I was there in February this year for the funeral and tahlil of a good man.

Many things in my life have turned and changed in the course of these past couple of months. I wanted to write about them now but strangely it is The Hadra that is written instead.

Perhaps there is a reason that I am unaware of. But sometimes it is okay not to follow too closely the clouds that pass through our thoughts... after all, we are just sinners here.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way 

Gaining the Universe by Giving - life, love and the mystery of devotion

The More I Love, The More I Have

I give you all my love,

All my affection and my confidence,

All my yearning and my desire,

All my giving I give to you,

And all my receiving

I wait from you.

I give you all my love,

All my ambition and worldly aspiration,

All my smiles and outer reflection,

All my fears and outer illusion,

All my mirrors, my music, my words,

All the truths that I have learned

From the Congress of the Birds.

I give you all my love,

All my hopes, my sorrows and tears,

All my garden and all its trees,

The root, the trunk, the leaves, the flowers and fruit,

The ruby-like berries ripe under the hovering eaves.

Yet my life I devote to God.

So strange how the more I have for God

The more I have for you…

 ……………………………………………….

I have a new receptionist in the office. He rejoices from the East Malaysian state of Sarawak on the island of Borneo. His body is festooned with tattoos, but nothing warlike at all. In fact he is one of the most soft-spoken young man I have ever known. He doesn't raise his voice, in fact he barely raises his eyes, averting my curious gaze. He makes me feel ashamed of my own lack of discretion and deference. As he is a little shy, I will call him Clark.

Early this week, he shared with me a story. (He said) One day, a saint was to marry his betrothed. And the saint said unto her - "I give you all my love. My life, I give to Allah..."

I used the same yarn on Heche. She replied that it is impossible for me to give her ALL my love because I already have a son. But I think she is (rarely so, but this time) wrong.  

For I truly believe with all the core of this sinner's heart than the more you love, the more you have love to give. And when it is God and His Prophet Muhammad (s.a.w.s.) to whom you devote your life... alhamdulillah... the recompense and reward for you and those whom you love is as wide as Allah's Mercy Ocean.

Unimaginably wonderful. Mystifying in its breadth. As subtle as a raindrop. Awe-inspiring as a Cosmic Storm. And even more than that.

Don't you agree, sunshine? Thank you for agreeing...

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

THE SUFIS OF SARAWAK - life, death, family and the pursuit of happiness

68. Death’s Door

Though you see me eating and walking,

Working and sleeping, breathing and living,

In truth, I am standing at Death’s door,

Waiting to meet my King.

As planned (and happily) as fated, today you will not find me in Kuala Lumpur, but instead in Kuching, Sarawak on the Island of Borneo. I am here to attend the tahlil (assembly of close kin and friends of the deceased) and a special mawlud (songs praising the Lord and venerating His Beloved Habibullah Muhammad (s.a.w.s.)).

The deceased in question is Abang Haji Bohan Abang Haji Osman, the centenarian father (101 years old this year!) of my partner, Abang Ariffin. He asked me to come for a good send-off for his saintly father and witness how the Sarawakians mourn, venerate and ultimately, celebrate the passing of a father, grandfather and great-grandfather. 

I took some pictures of course, and here are some of them.

It was a warm overcast sky beneath which I arrived in Sarawak, the Land of the
Puteri Santubong (one of the 7 princesses of King Solomon).

Myself,  little Ashman, the only son of Ariffin and his doughty
cousin, Naim. Ariffin just bought them those skateboards. Initially
Ashman was reluctant to ride it outside the house. "But the wheels are
gonna get dirty and the board scratched and dented, Father!" 
He he he, the innocence and beauty of youth.

The Tao of the Cat. Two mangy young cats were sleeping next to me.
Being the Chinese New Year celebrations this weekend, I thought
to myself, "Hmm. How apt." I often have this brilliant epiphanies
of the blinding obvious. He he he.

A little tired I returned to the small hotel where I am staying just a walking distance
from the house. I overslept and missed the evening Maghrib prayers, but
rushed over just in time for the night Isya prayers. But not before I was able
to take this picture of the Imam leading the faithful congregation. Man...
the things I do for this almanac. He he he.

This trip is not just about saying goodbye to an ancient soul, but to also meet
old buddies from my umrah pilgrimage in 2011. It was such joy for me to see all of
Ariffin's friends and brothers and sisters. Here is Ijan (aka Yul Brynner)
and Ariffin himself, or Haji Ipen as his own late father used to refer to him. The night
before he passed away, the father asked Ariffin, "So when are you returning back
to Kuala Lumpur?" To which my partner replied, "No... I am not going back. I am
here for good. Balqies, Sareah ad Ashman are all starting school here."
The father nodded and smiled his best smile ever.

But that night has not ended yet. For after dinner, and as promised to me by Ariffin,
the Sufis of Sarawak, consisting largely of Ariffin's family and friends gathered once
more in Abang Bohan's house... For a special mawlud in honour of the Prophet
Muhammad (s.a.w.s.) and in remembrance of the indomitable Abang Bohan.
Perhaps I did not mention to you that Ariffin's family is particularly Sufi?
Now you know. God bless you, God bless me, alhamdulillah
(Praises be unto God)!!

And so the mawlud begins... and pretty much best of all is that the passion and
power of the music, in the playing of the darbukas and clarinets are all coming from
young men, as the little kids sing the hymns and sonnets venerating their Prophet
Muhammad (s.a.w.s.). How excellent is God's creation, are all children.

Then the tempo began in earnest as Sufyan, the younger brother of Ariffin stood up
to commence the hadra (spiritual dance) and two little boys stepped out from the
crowd to whirl like the magical Sufis of old. This time, even the elderly stepped up,
including Abang Matasan despite his slip disc which he got when he carried his
father last week. He had to be assisted off the dance floor soon after though.
God bless all courageous men whose heart is filled with love.

Allahyarham Abang Haji Bohan Abang Haji Osman.
Before he died, he was still amazingly lucid and clear minded. One night
he suddenly stood up amongst his worried wife, children and grandchildren
and suddenly declared, to the seen and unseen...
"I do not worship any idols or statues!
I do not fear death! I only fear God!"

On that note, I must end the almanac. But before I do, wonderment comes to me as to what I have done to deserve such luminaries and loving spirits in my life. In my own book of account for this life, I have really no debits, only credits granted to me by Allah (s.w.t.) and His Muhammad (s.a.w.s.). I believe this to be true.

Have a beautiful Friday, sunshine. May your life be filled with beautiful and good people always. Especially that person looking back at you in the mirror.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

THE LAST SMILE AND THE RETURN TO THE TIMELESS

Less than one week ago, I wrote about my partner Ariffin, packing his family on a moment's notice, and returning to Sarawak to visit and care for his ailing father, the only man who has ever bathed me (his dad, not Ariffin). The post was entitled 101-Year Old Man, A Homecoming, An Uncle and Friendship.

Alas, now it is my sad duty to report that Ariffin's decision is inspired, for this morning at about 10am, I received a message from him on the cellphone that his father, Abang Bohan, has finally relinquished his hold of this mortal world, to return to the Divine Presence. 

Ariffin adored his dad, a man of distinct presence, and the only 100-year old man I have ever had the privilege of knowing. Two stories about them comes to my mind now, as I sit here in my bedroom, and the cool evening air wafts in like love's gentle comfort. For I too, in my little clumsy way, adored his dad.

Is this guy a Sheikh or something? First I recall Ariffin's happy return to the office after one of his (many) umrah (pilgrimage) to Mecca and Medina. But this time it was extra special because he brought his mom and dad too. And I remember seeing pictures of the pair with Ariffin pushing his ancient father on the wheel chair. "I treated him like a V.I.P, bro..." Ariffin shared as he smiled, "...in fact some people were asking me quietly.. 'Is this man some sheikh or something?'" Then he laughed. 

Dad's New Car! Then I recall sometime in 2011 (I think), as we lounged in the office after Ariffin returned from his hometown of Kuching. "Guess what I did, bro!" Of course, I didn't even bother trying and simply asked my partner what he did.

"I bought my father a Myvi (a little hatchback car)! " Then he explained, "One day I was sitting with my dad when suddenly he commented that he wished he had a better car than the old Kancil which he potters around in. You know... like the cars that his children now drive. So without hesitation I visited my friend's car dealership nearby and immediately ordered a Myvi. My friend was surprised because I didn't even bother test driving the car at all. When the car arrived at my dad's house, I quickly called him to come and see his new car. He was so excited that he ran out (albeit as well as a 90 plus year old man can run) when suddenly his kain pelekat ( a traditional wrap that Malay men wear) came undone and fell around his ankle. I helped him up and into the driver's seat and sat next to him. But after a while my dad just sat there and had not even started the car. So finally I asked him why isn't he starting the engine, to which he replied, 'Well... what did you expect? This is such a surprise!! Can't you see that my hands are trembling!!?"

Then Ariffin became silent and with a wistful look in his eyes, he confided to me, "Bro, I didn't think about the money and how I am actually gonna be paying for the car. Because the look of sheer joy in my father's face is worth any amount of money. If he had died there at that very moment, I myself would be happy because then my dad would have passed away in utter joy and it was I, who put that last smile on his face. After all he has done for me, it is the very least I can do for him..."

You know, our parents are not perfect. And even Ariffin admits one or two incidents which he felt that his father made a judgment call that may have been less than right. But that is what judgment calls are all about. Sometimes, when finely balanced between the pros and cons, even the best father or mother can get it wrong. But in the case of Abang Bohan, I think his correct judgments far outweigh in his favour. And I hope to fly down to Kuching soon to visit the family and pay my respects to this ancient man and the grieving family that he has left behind.

In our light moments, we both refer to Ariffin's dad as the Buddha, because he kinda looks like Buddha, venerable, ancient and timeless. And now I guess he has truly left us to return to the Timeless, our One God, Allah(s.w.t.) and the Prophet Muhammad (s.a.w.s.).

al-fatiha

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

101-Year Old Man, a Home Coming, an Uncle and Friendship

Friends

In the firmament of my sky,

In the questions and answers

As to who am I,

In the light of my day,

And in the rising of the Moon at night,

Verily, I know God chose my friends right,

No matter where we are, no matter what we do,

I know God bequeathed

Unto me my faithful,

Loyal friends,

...To overcome all tribulations,

To make good our place on this Earth,

As the Race of Adam and Eve,

As the Nation of Muhammad,

As a servant of God...

... He who dwells

In the infinite horizon

Of every man's heart!

.............................

My long standing friend, partner and founder of our law firm is leaving Kuala Lumpur. He is going home with his wife and three kids to Kuching, Sarawak (in the Island of Borneo) to devote his care and attention on his ailing father, Abang Bohan.

ABANG BOHAN. Abang Bohan is an exceptional man of 101 years, if Allah permits his coming birthday this year. He has 12 children and heaven knows how many grandchildren. As another exceptional (if somewhat awkward) tribute to Abang Bohan, is that he is probably the only human being, apart from my blessed late mother, and my dear auntie Sophia (Makndak) to have actually bathed me. But my mum and auntie bathed me when I was a little toddler, while Ariffin's father once bathed me 4 years ago. It was a spiritual shower of sorts, to cleanse me of some dodgy karma that has dogged my life up to then. In his nonagenarian frame (in his late 90s back then) was a light of knowledge and piety, and with some chalk, lime, water and a blunt butter knife, he administered me. He gave me some blessed oil, and a talisman of tin to arm myself, tied in a knot around my waist. For all these medicine and care, my love and respect for this ancient man is sincere and real. 

Mika. In frustrated tears trying to master cursive writing under the watchful
help of Herman. Later Mikhail complained to me, "Mummy was not
positive. She just laughed, Papa. Then she took a picture! But later
I went into her room, and I found a book. It was called
"Why Men Marry err... the bad 'b' word (Bitches, I think. he he he)"
Why did she buy the book, papa? Is it about her??"

UNCLE H. In an additional twist of fate, another man has come into my life, albeit indirectly through my ex-wife, Gina, and his name is Herman, her new husband. I had little doubt of his character even early on, but through my son Mikhail and his mum, I have heard nothing but good report about him over the years. He dots over my 9-year old son as if Mika is his own, checking on his internet usage, helping with his homework, ironing my son's school uniform and even cleaning his school shoes. And last weekend, when I had to miss my son's early birthday party (his birthday is actually this coming 31st January) as I had to go to Singapore for work, it was Herman who was running about getting the balloons, food and presents sorted. I have often asked Mika to call him Dad or Daddy, but Mika still insists on the formal prefix of 'Uncle'. Perhaps one day he will realize what a bargain he got when his mum married the 'Uncle'.

I want to share these stories with you, because I think it is important for me to spread a little cheer. We cannot really tell how God, in His Sublime Mercy may reward and bless our lives. Through a  centenarian or the new husband of your ex-spouse.

May Allah(s.w.t.) bless them always. And may the Prophet (s.a.w.s.) guide my friend Ariffin in his return to his hometown. He cannot imagine how much I shall miss him.

Have a lovely day, sunshine. 

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Gurindam, Mulla Nasruddin and the Tailor

Gurindam Again - Today the sinner attended a meeting concerning an oil palm enterprise in the morning, together with his partner and friend, Ariffin. We were happy that Gurindam was also in the meeting. Gurindam (a pseudonym) is an elder and wise planter that we had made acquaintance with last year, some stories of which has already been recorded in this almanac.

An intermission - During today's meeting, Gurindam suddenly slipped me a note paper, on which he had scribbled, "The most scary matter is to be a witness to your ownself in front of Allah azzawajalla on what you have done / not done during your world life." Now what is this about?

Mulla Nasruddin - This caught me by surprise. But I held my peace for the duration of the meeting. Instead, I myself scribbled a reply in the form of a story about Mulla Nasruddin, a great sufi persona of immense stature, whose life story and tale is replete with wisdom mingled in mortal irony and humour. My brother, Saiful shared the tale with me last night. He told me the story this way -

Sufi guy goes a tailor to make a shirt. Tailor says, " God willling, it'll be ready next week ". Sufi guy comes back after a week, Tailor says," Shirt not ready, God willing, next week ". Sufi guy comes back again a week later. Tailor guy says, "Not ready, God willing, it'll be ready next week". Sufi guy then says.."Look, if we leave God out of it, how soon can my shirt be ready?"

Many Interpretations - I slipped the note back to Gurindam who read my reply. He chuckled, then he passed back the note with a reply, "It is just a test of patience". I found this interesting because my brother looked at the story from another angle which is "Stop using God as an excuse." But I guess an event recollected in a folk tale or sufi lore often offers many equally valid interpretations, depending really on whose point of view you are taking.

Mr. Mischief - Anyway, the meeting soon ended and I queried Gurindam as to the purpose of the advise, And this was what he answere, "If we really believe that God is with us all the time, we would not do any mischief." I listened and replied, "Ah. Very true. But I am not there yet..." After all, what else can I say?... for it is true... I still make mischief. But now I am wondering why he shared that with me. Did he read 'Mr. Mischief' written on my forehead? I should see him again, I think, and find out more. Insecure? Guilty as charged!

I have always found Gurindam fascinating. So much so that I have written at least 4 earlier postings arising from our conversations. We first met during a visit to an oil palm estate in Sarawak, situated in the island of Borneo/Kalimantan (Click on title to go to the postings): -

• Seven Reasons why Dogs are like Saints - Near Sibu 2011 Part 2
• Fat Trees and Tall Thin Trees - Gurindam's Tale
• A Piggy Tail - The Spiritual Station of Pigs
• Gurindam , the Weed, the Rice and the Lemongrass - The Nature of Love and Her Sweet Responsibilities

Each time I have ventured out of my private and almost hermit-like life, fate has presented me with beautiful people who are generous enough to share with me the most wonderful of stories and wisdom. I think it is time for the sinner to travel again. But where?

Have a lovely Monday, sunshine. God bless you.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

The Magic of Advance Reciprocation - friendship and kindness

9. Friendship

Friendship is the remembering of kindness,

The forgetting of slights,

The praising of virtues,

And the acceptance of failings.

It is the meeting off two soulbirds who greet each other;

“Come as you are for I want neither more nor less of you,

And I shall come as myself, as in truth, your servant.”

I am a little unwell. But yesterday I could not delay two meetings and attended my clients in the office. Feeling a little peckish later I dropped by my favourite beef noodle shop, Gyuniku. As I entered I noticed my Sarawakian friend, Micheal having lunch with two of his co-workers. We are not particularly close but I always found him to be good company. He is a go-getter Bidayuh (one of the largest tribes in Sarawak) and a  manager of a F&B consortium which owns a chain of restaurants and pubs in KL. The one near my office is an Irish-esque watering hole called Finnegan's. Anyways, I said a cheerful hello to Micheal and found myself a table nearby.

Yes. The Irish are here in Malaysia. Sort of. 

I do not know why, but as I watched the trio finishing their late lunch, it crossed my mind, "Gee... I wished I had some extra money to treat Micheal for that lunch. Oh well, maybe next time..." I philosophically concluded.

Lunch was served (Hot and Spicy broth with odds and ends of a cow - briskets, tendons, beefballs, beef slices, tongue etc...) and I concentrated on Gillian Tett's book entitled Fool's Gold. It's been one year since I bought the bally book. The going is slow because it is packed-full of arcane terms and abbreviations of the financial industry.

As I was consuming food and book, a waitress suddenly appeared and said, "Sir, your bill has already been paid." Gesturing towards Micheal. Surprised, I said thank you to Micheal for the treat, to which he said, "It is nothing, bro... nothing!" 

It is of course something. He read my mind and reciprocated in advance (Or did I read his? Or perhaps our unspoken thoughts kinda bumped into each other?) - These little things and ironic surprises that brightens your day.

May someone treat your lunch today, sunshine. Or better still, you treat them lunch.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam
Love will show the Way

The Stonehenge of Saribas - Pictures tell Stories

The Stonehenge of Saribas

Druids this way came. But they found no rocks or stones large enough. So they made do with leftover timber and a large diesel tank.

The lorries patiently await the arrival of barges loaded with granite from the quarry sites some miles downriver. They are used to pave the hundreds of miles of the giant oil palm estates here.

No, these are not neglected cloth lines. These beautiful pink flower plants are what the planters call 'beneficial' plants. They attract the sort of predatory insects which keep down the population of harmful bugs (weevils and others) that would attack the leaf and fruit. Apart from bugs, rats and mice are a major problem. For the rodent problem, the natural defenses are snakes and the biawaks (a large lizard). But the planters say that they have not sighted many biawaks. They also tried to introduce owls, which are superb rat catchers. But strangely, the newcomers keep going missing. They suspect that the natives may be shooting them down. But that is mere speculation.

Growing anything anywhere on a large scale is often challenging. And for palm oil in peat soil it is doubly difficult. Water level is required to be kept at a constant level. It is the nature of peat that if it loses too much water it loses the ability to regain the original moisture level, even if you are able to increase the water table. Small waterlocks are built on the estate watering system. The still water encourages the growth of algea on the surface, that is why it is often bright green.

Crossing the Batang Saribas (Saribas River). At this spot it's more than a kilometre wide.

Saribas will forever be ingrained in my mind as the place where I saw heaven reflected on the still water of our earth. I also witnessed the strong hearts and limbs of men and women who are trying their very best to carve a living from the yielding earth. May we respect mother nature and her giving ways, and not take too much from her, to leave her barren for our children and grandchildren...

Have a sunny Sunday, sunshine.

Pax Taufiqa

Man in the Jungle, Swiftlets in Hotels - Pictures tell Stories

From 10,000 feet in the air, the hinterlands of Sarawak is all green, with rivers and streams cutting through its vast, vast expanse. The sinner has been awake since before 5am, and he is tired already. And the day hasn't even started properly! Oh dear...
Then suddenly, the city of Sibu materialises itself amidst the rainforest. I didn't know this, but this is as close as I will ever get to the city. Or to any city, come to think of it!

Landed! Safe and sound. There is nothing like air-travel to make you feel closer to your mortality! Wuu HUU!

The gritty, rugged and tough estate managers. It is a hard, hard life with hard, hard work on a daily basis for these men. They are responsible for the welfare of hundreds of workers and milions of dollars in investments, and it is no walk in the park.

The vast horizon of the estate wearies my eyes, so used as I am to the short, stunted views of urban life. It rained a little in the evening.

With roads built of solid granite quarried from the earth...

... You would need transportation like these. But even on these pick-ups, the journey was less of a drive, and more of being tumbled about in a washing machine. I was bouncing all over the place. "Oh, you should have been here, before we had these road paved with granite. It was even worse!", said Ariffin. "My head was hitting the roof of the car!"

These strange monolith structures dot the countryside of Sibu. They are bird-hotels and built to intice swiftlets to nest and roost there. The birds' nests are then 'harvested' for local consumption but mostly for export to mainland China and the teeming Chinese diaspora all over the globe. Such is the demand for these aviary delicacy that there is a small hotel which was converted into a bird-hotel. Apparently, hosting swiftlets is more profitable than human guests.

In the second estate, we could see small bunches of palm oil fruit by the roadside. These are the preliminary harvesting which they call 'scout harvesting'. Scout harvesting is intended to pluck the first fruits from a young tree. The quantity is very small, but it is still necessary because if left to rot on the tree, it may cause all sorts of fungal problems to the young plant.

Scratched upon a palm stalk is the number of the lot or grid from which the scout harvests were picked. It is a poignant symbol of the difficulty and hardship faced by these men who are planting and scratching for wealth from the fertile peat soil of this locality. From a plant that is not even originally from this region (oil palm is indigenous to Africa).

Have a lovely day, sunshine. I still have one more day here.

Pax Taufiqa.