The Family

During the sahur at the masjid this morning, Arina and I was seated next to a family. Undoubtedly there was the mother, probably the eldest child around 20+, 2 boys between the ages 13 and 10 and a little girl probably the age of 5. While eating, I couldn't help but eavesdrop on the family's conversation. The funny thing was that I could only make out a few words. I peeked and saw that they were very much Malaysians. At first I thought it was in a malay dialect I couldn't comprehend. But as I listen a little longer, I realized it. I looked at Arina and realized that she was listening too. Her eyebrows furrowed, but as we exchanged looks, she smiled and mouthed "MashaAllah...". I smiled and we continued eating in silence.

They were talking as if in their own world, and making jokes and laughing. All in Arabic. Very fluent arabic! How remarkable!

After we cleared our plates and walked towards the wudhu' area, Arina said to me "I conclude that they lived in Egypt and they came back here for the holidays." I nodded- that was probably the most acceptable reason. How else could they be so fluent? But as we walked, I noted the mother in the purple hijab. Thinking "You'll only ever get the answer when you ask" (a personal principle), I made a silent vow that I would find her and ask her.

Before subuh prayers started, I spied her and her girls walking towards the wudhu area. They parted ways and the mother and the youngest daughter approached a lady to probably have a chat. The mother eyed me and I smiled, gesturing that I wanted to talk to her. She signaled for me to wait and so I sat next to them. After having finished the conversation, the mother approached me and asked who I was.

My name is Alia, I introduced myself.

Ah, how can I help you?

Well, I was sitting next to you during sahur. I'm so sorry I couldn't help but listen to your family's conversation. My friend and I were so amazed to hear your children speak in fluent Arabic. How was it that they were able to speak so well? Did you live abroad?

She smiled knowingly, perhaps all too familiar with such a question. My husband studied abroad previously in Jordan. So when we had our children, they grew up with Arabic. When we came back to Malaysia, we schooled them in an international Arabic school. And when they grew up, arabic was their main language of communication. When their younger siblings were born, they picked up the language from their older siblings.

Wow...  I smiled in awe.

She laughed, and said: The kids are delighted that they have a language that other people can't really understand as much as them. To be fluent in a language, you have to practice it often.

Those were her parting words. I thanked her, shook her hand and sat back next to Arina in saff.

I smiled in reminiscence. I understand well when she talks about her kids being able to speak in 'their own language'. When I look at her kids, they were really close and it reminds me of my family. When we came back from Oman, we only ever conversed in English. And we didn't mix so much with other people. Not because they couldn't speak in English, but because we couldn't speak much Malay. Though that's probably that's not the case with them...

MashaAllah, as Arina and I discussed about Arabic and the amazing family, I thought how awesome it is to be able to speak in Arabic so fluently. I lived 5 years in an Arabic country and spent another 5 years having Arabic classes, but not actually picking up and practicing the language.

InsyaAllah, I'm endeavoring to learn Arabic as much as I can!

Note: Conversation was in Malay, translated to English for the convenience of the writer.

The Medical Illustrator (Part 2)

The Medical Illustrator (Part 1) Link

I hesitated, "Was it supposed to be a secret?"

"No, no," he laughed heartily, "But not many people know that. Only my close friends who are doctors know that I draw surgical drawings. How did you find out? Is your dad a doctor?"

I told him about my dad's friend who had informed him. That neither my dad nor his friend were doctors.

He was deep in thought. "That's strange. I didn't think anyone else would know."

I nodded, unsure what to say. So I started with my lines, while presenting the coloured manuscript to him.

I explained about my project while he patiently listened. He said that he had seen the ALIEN Biz blog. And Alhamdulillah, he had such excellent views on it! He said that the artworks were fantastic and this effort was commendable.

My heart was still beating wildly but it had positively glowed. I thanked Allah silently for such an opportunity and an amazing response.

He leafed through several pages of the manuscript I had given him. He gave a few comments and raised several important and crucial legal publishing issues. Not only did he agree to look at the drawings, but he also agreed to look at the content. So when I asked if he would review the whole book, he smiled in agreement and replied, "When do you want it back?"

After arranging for the next meeting, I stood up to leave. He asked me one final question; "Why did you start this?" I explained about needing to raise the funds for a project for the Somali refugees and how I sold my notes to raise the money and how it had escalated to this.

At the door, I asked quite seriously if I needed to pay for this consultation (I just wanted to make sure since I didn't think I'd have the money for it). But he only laughed warmly and I smiled (though still confused).

I closed the door behind me, smiled non-stop and walked with a spring every step of the way back out.

The Medical Illustrator (Part 1)

After having met doctors and a visual facilitator to review the illustrated book, one thing suddenly came up: Why didn't I think of it earlier? Finding a doctor who's also an illustrator so that they could comment on the clarity of the illustrations and overall visuals.

I remembered very vaguely my dad telling me a few years ago about a surgeon who also draws. In fact, his friend told him about it. It was just a comment in the passing and at that time, I only nodded in acknowledgement but barely did it register in my mind.

Now, I was desperately clinging to that piece of information. My dad did not seem to recall about it and who actually told him.

The day after, he called up one of his friends and finally remembered the doctor's name- Dr J. My mom immediately gave me the number to the hospital and I promptly made the call and asked them to connect me to Dr J.

I called and was directed to his receptionist (?) who told me that he was unable to speak at the time. I said that I would call back later. When I did, I was told that his clinic was closed (of course, it was already 5pm).

The next day I called again, only to be informed that he was performing an operation and wouldn't be having any clinic that day.

Finally, I called again and spoke to his receptionist and  I explained who I was and my mission and she told me that he was very busy and that I would have to meet him during outpatient time the week after. I asked if she could settle an appointment for me. I didn't think seeing him during outpatient clinic time would be so good since there would be other patients and I might need a bit more of his time. She said that she would only inform him. I left my number and asked her to pass the message. She promised that she would get back to me soon.

That day, I also sent an email to him explaining who I was and gave the link to my ALIEN Biz website. I waited but neither my calls nor my emails were replied. I assumed that he did not have the time for me at all and that this was his way of saying it.

On Wednesday night, during dinner, my dad asked me: So, have you contacted him yet? I shook my head and explained what had happened. Well Alia, he started, you're going to have to do something to at least meet him. Camp outside his door, bring a sleeping bag. Wear a cardboard sign and show how much you really want to meet him! I nodded. I get what my dad meant. But perhaps I wouldn't have to go that far yet. I would go meet him the next day.

The next morning (Thursday), I woke up feeling anxious. I was told that his clinic was open on Thursday between 930pm til 1230pm. I didn't set an appointment so I just thought that I'd wait how ever long I needed. Even if I was given 3 minutes before I would be shoo-ed away, I would give him the most worthwhile and convincing 3 minutes for him to review my book.

As I walked to the hospital, I breathed in and out, unsure of what to expect. I replayed in my mind what would be the best opening line, "Doctor, I heard you also draw and illustrate." Too direct an opening? Or "Doctor, I'm not a patient; just give me 3 minutes of your time." Too desperate. "Doctor, my name is Alia and I'm illustrating a book." Yes, perhaps not too bad of a way to start. The worst that could happen would be that he refuses to review the book and that's that. Yes, I can accept that. I've had it happen to me and I lived through it.


When I searched for his room, this is what I realized: Private hospitals have suites. Having had clinical sessions at public hospitals where 50+ patients await, I blinked in disbelief when I found only 3 patients in Dr J's suite. I walked up to the receptionist and introduced myself, "My name is Alia. I need to see Dr J." She went through the list of appointments for the day and I immediately interjected that I didn't have one. She smiled pleasantly and gestured me to sit.

When the final patient came out of the room, Dr J came out too. He asked the receptionist who the next patient was and she gestured to me, "Doctor, this is the medical student."

I was startled- because I hadn't introduced myself that way but possibly she remembered me from the previous phone call. Dr J looked at me and exclaimed, "Ah, you're the one with the book- ALIEN Biz right?" None of my opening lines prepared me for this and I could only manage to nod. "Come in, come in." I scrambled to my feet and shoved the manuscript I was holding into my bag and followed him into the room.

I had expected that his room would be filled with illustrations and drawings. I didn't expect (that much) that it would be filled with so many books. Books covering almost every inch of his desk and the shelves that lined the walls.

He sat down, looked at me and the first thing he questioned was: "So how did you know that I could draw?"

Continuation: The Medical Illustrator (Part 2)

Designing a Logo

Designing a Logo: A summary

Full story at http://diradesign.blogspot.com/2012/07/streamline-web.html

Is craving for

Gong Cha's Winter Melon Tea.

Medicine vs Art

A lady who stopped by our booth at BeingMe politely asked me: "Oh, so what are you studying now?"

I replied, "I'm studying Medicine."

"So what do you like to do?"

"Oh, I absolutely love art and design!"

"Oh," she responded in a rather confused manner, "I meant, which posting do you like in medicine?"

"Ah..." I replied sheepishly.

When you see them.

I want to have friends who are those kind of people. I want to marry that kind of person. But first, I have to be that person. :)

Article link here.