Through the Brambles of Bukit Timah

New mock-up cover presented for funding

Side profile

Unfortunately, due to brief campaign period, the total for pre-orders was slightly more than $700, before deductions for services and contributions to world literacy programme. Hence, back to fund-raising to cover printing and promotional expenses.

The Marcel Wave Swept the Shore of Singapore

The Sailor and the Singapore Damsel

In her own demure way, Mak was a 'Stylanista'.
She wore her hair short and crimped ala Marcel Wave, or commonly known as finger wave. Her outdoor attire were long, loose-fitting cheong-sams similar to the Vietnamese 'ao dai'. Her clutch purses were self-made from tafetta and other shiny cloths. Her mule slippers were equally fetching.
I said, "I like your hair when it was short and wavy ... like in that old picture."
"Oh, that's the Greta Garbo style. She acted in the film Mata Hari. It was about a beautiful spy," she said. 
https://www.facebook.com/nbbadarudin/posts/850172878362988?notif_t=like

Across the Causeway is on Pubslush!

Jan 30th UPDATE:

The total for pre-orders has exceeded the minimum of $500. It's now $680. Please support the campaign to reach its goal by Feb 14th. Thank you, NBB.

Check-out pre-orders of Across the Causeway 

at https://pubslush.com/project/4585

     Do take a minute to visit the site and give your feedback on the cover version and subtitle preferred. Thank you. Have a wonderful week-end ahead.

Across the Causeway III

Jan 30th UPDATE:

The date and venue for the book launch is postponed to a later date. Will keep you all posted. Thank you.

NBB

Rabiah's Hijrah evolved into Across the Causeway

Dear loyal blog readers,

I apologise for the sporadic postings. I really should make up for the long absence.

Since last Hari Raya Puasa, I've been busy rewriting and meeting illustrators, designers and printers to turn the scattered entries into a published memoir.

There were several revisions. Many characters were eliminated. Some scenes were sacrificed. The focus is on how the child makes sense of her reality and identity ... her father's absence, her mother's resilience, their disparate origins, their stark differences, the rapid social, economic and political changes that shaped her environment.

This is an independent publishing project. 

It's the first part of a two part series on a child/girlhood in Singapore and Malaysia in the '60s and '70s.   

Pre-orders are welcomed. Only when there are sufficient orders to make 'printing-on-demand' economically viable, will you be requested to make payments.

Or if there are Angel Investors, Compassionate Crowdfunders or Nostalgia Junkies looking to support a creative work on the theme of a truly United Nusantara Nations, please do contact me.    

    

At any rate, a launch is scheduled for February 14, 2015.

Venue: Malaysian National Library, Jalan Tun Razak.

Time: 3-5PM

Programme:

* Very brief speeches 

* '60s tunes by Young and Senior Artists

* Readings of passages 

* Selfies/Wefies at Photo Booth

Dress Code: '60s Retro

See you all there!

  

BLURB

Bet’s wonder years were less than ordinary. Growing up in the turbulent ‘60s was like living on a proverbial minefield. Even before Bet was born, Bapak had been jailed for being a Radical. Mak was a Realist who found no job too small, and did whatever it took to put a roof over their heads and food on the table. 

Mak and Bapak and all the other adults in her neighbourhood were too preoccupied with the big Merger, the Confrontation, the Riots, the Curfews and the Separation. All Bet could think of was the terrible haircut she was stuck with after her trip to the Barber’s, which made her face look rounder; and those hideous marks on her legs from climbing all those trees around her compound; and that horrible school uniform which made her self-conscious.

Bet had to learn early that the world did not owe her a living. She had to be beyond just resourceful to survive. She had to be tough and grow up quicker than the other girls and boys. 

One day, Mak dropped the Bomb on the Big Move. They had to leave their homeland for good.

Genre: Coming-of-age in the Mid '60s

Getting to Know the Soul of the Nation

The language is the soul of the nation

Sekolah Menengah Aminuddin Baki
was named after the champion of Malay education 

I felt like a poseur

When we had to use Jenny’s rich relatives’ address

A posh, two-storey residence

With a well-tended lawn

And wrought iron fence

On a street which sounded clever

Up on the rolling hill with the clean, fresh air

On the other side of the thoroughfare

Jenny was a distant neighbour from Singapore

Who moved to KL at the end of ‘64

Indeed, her relatives were kind

To allow us to use their home address

To keep in touch with the Singaporeans

And correspond with the Department of Education 

In mid February ‘66

Ma waved three brown window envelopes in our faces

Which Mal opened gently

While Yat and I waited breathlessly

Finally, news about our school placements

From the Selangor Education Department

Mal was to enrol at once

For his secondary two class

At Sekolah Menengah Aminuddin Baki in Kampung Pandan

A distinguished Malay school, we were told

While Yat was to commence

Her secondary education

At the Ampang Road Secondary Girls School

Notorious for its wayward students, it was soon revealed   

And I was accepted into Primary Four F

At Gurney Road Primary School (1)

That seemed like a promotion from 3H

At my previous school

Mal had to leave early before seven

To take two buses to Kampong Pandan

And since my school session was also in the morning

I had to be up before sun rise and start walking

Lucky Yat had the afternoon session

So a little after noon

Ma would walk her to the narrow, wooden bridge

To see her cross the shallow river with strong currents

That carried the assorted rubbish discarded

Behind the maladorous Keramat market

Making new friends in school

And the neighbourhood

Was awkward when you’re the new student

With the strange accent

From an island that had just been ejected

Out of the Federation 

We were swamped by new words

That flew above our heads

We had to train our ears to spot the differences

In the choices of words, meanings and pronunciations

So we learned to hold our tongues

To avoid embarrassing moments

But never tired of privately making fun

Of the words used for different body parts

Countless hours were spent

Imitating the way “they” –

The landlord, neighbours, teachers and schoolmates -

Spoke with such finesse

Which made "us" feel like savages

Such great pains to properly phrase their sentences

Or even questions -

“Dah berkelamin?” (Are you married?)

Asked with a shy smile

Unlike the straightforward Singapore style –

“Dah kahwin ke belum?” (Married or not?)

Gradually we learned to substitute cultured words

Such as the refined “suami” (husband) for the crude “laki”

The polite “orang rumah” (lady of the house) for the coarse “bini” (wife)

And the proper “lelaki” (male) for the vulgar “jantan”

And that was how we learned to dive into the soul of the nation             

There is no patron saint of literary spree

To commemorate Roald Dahl's Day, Bet fancied herself as Matilda
Photo taken from AMightyGirl

It wasn’t til February

When we got our placements in schools

In the period in-between

We unpacked the boxes of story books

Prizes we won from doing well in final exams

Or tomes tossed aside by wealthier cousins  

They were all eager to leave the confines of their prison

And share their content

Adventures to faraway lands and ancient kingdoms

A handy escape from our humdrum existence

I flipped the pages of the glossy, hard-cover, full-colour book

That I had won for being third in class at Teluk Kurau West

A Sword in the Stone recounted the trials and tribulations

Of young Arthur who was destined to be the King of old England

With the help of Merlin the Magician

He freed Excalibur from a hideous stone

And led the Knights of the Round Table

From Camelot to Sherwood Forest

I snooped into the exploits of Robin Hood

And his band of Merry Men

Who robbed the Sheriff of Nottingham

And hurled his gold to the peasants

Farewell to Medieval England

Off to a life as a cast away on a tropical island

Marking the long, lonely days

With my chums Robinson Crusoe and Man Friday

Another shipwreck, another tropical isle

To marvel at how the Swiss Family Robinson built their tree house

In their frocks and breeches

And used their rifles and explosives to fight the natives

From the West Indies to Wonderland

Sitting by the riverbank

With Alice and the Principles of Logical Calculus

Walking away from that "horrible place"

Trailing a talking white rabbit

Wearing a waistcoat and a pocket watch

Falling deep into his rabbit hole

To open a tiny door leading to a race

Where a small snail beat the other animals

Odd characters like the Duchess and her Cheshire Cat

The March Hare at the Mad Hatter’s tea party

The Queen of Hearts and her game of croquet

And the Knave of Hearts accused of stealing the tarts

I had to escape the wrath of the Red Queen

To follow Philaes Fogg on his bet with his friends

In Around the World in Eighty Days

Along with Passepartout, his French valet

And Aoda whom he saved from the funeral pyre

Back to Victorian London

I tried to outwit Dr Watson

In the Adventures of Sherlock Holmes          

And solve the mystery of Jack the Ripper

Who disappeared in the foggy winter

Along with the split personality

Of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde

On to the Arabian Gulf

I boarded the dhow with Sinbad

To the banks of the Euphrates

And witness the splendour of old Baghdad

Onto the magic carpet with Aladdin

Transported to a secret cave with treasure chests

Overflowing with rubies, sapphires and emeralds

And held my breath as Sheherazade kept her head

By captivating the Sultan with her enchanting tales

Of A Thousand and One Nights

  

My voyage took me to the land of the Minangkabaus

I shed silent tears for Siti Noerbaya

Who was married against her will to the cruel Datuk Maringgeh

My lips uttered every word in the letters written by Syamsul Bahri

To his lady love in Tenggelamnya Kapal Van de Wyck

My mind trekked the steps taken by the ill-fated protagonist

Who sought his fortune in Merantau ke Deli 

From Deli to Padang and Bukit Tinggi

Where myths of princesses who turned into fish with golden scales

Flourished in famous Sumatran folktales

Which Mak had collected from her days at the highlands      

To all the trees I've climbed before

Nothing beats climbing, hanging on to or simply lying on tree trunks

Long after you've forgotten about the doll who cried 
When you pressed the round button between her shoulder blades
Who blinked her glassy blue eyes when you bent her golden head
Or your new dress with its fancy pleats
Or even your first glittery shoes with the diamante 
You'd still have the scabs on your limbs to remind you of the times you climbed to the highest branch of the guava tree
Or the fun you had playing 'bus conductor' on the old tapioca plant
Or just hiding between the trunks of the banyan