OLD il-bloop !

Kalau harimau jadi itik,
kambing jadi itik,
kerbau jadi itik,
kucing jadi itik,

Itik jadi apa?

Finally through with the ESL draft, maybe its time for a spot of blogging. As previously stated, my topic for the investigative research is “Should Individuals Invest In Gold?” Interesting subject, though I’m not sure I’ve fully comprehended what I just put in my essay. At least the investigative report still sounds like someone could read on the bus, my other project titles (“Should Australia Continue to Follow the Convention of Responsible Government”, “Do The New Counter-Terrorism Laws Infringe Fundamental Civil Liberties”) have been known to scare small children.

Anyway, this past week has been quite hectic. The SAM’s Program Charity Drive was on for the whole of last week, and on Friday there was a carnival-like ( more pasar malam-like) atmosphere at Taylor’s due to all the stalls and selling. The Charity Drive was fun but not really much to blog about. We planned, quarreled, worked, got money and had fun. End of story.

There were, however, two places that I went last week that deserves a longer elaboration.

I’ll tell it in story form :

Thursday, 7.00 pm

Pondok Raudhah, Batu 10, Gombak

Thank goodness we got out early from Islamic Studies and had some time to rest, as the road leading to the children’s shelter was long, dark and winding. Alhamdulillah I drive a Kembara ;P. When we finally got there, the azan for maghrib had just begun, and it was time to pray. After exchanging pleasantries with the people there, we were led to the prayer hall and asked to wait. They had some problems with their water supply, and the children were up the hill trying to get the pump to suck water. They tried their best but the water just didn’t came. So we had to resort to taking our wudhu’ with water from the stream that flowed next to the shelter. While waiting for my turn to wudhu’, I surveyed the shelter’s infrastructure. Of course, I didn’t come expecting a five-star hotel, but it was just too inadequate. Entering the boys' room, one can only feel that one lives in luxury compared to them.

After Maghrib, my mom’s cousin (who was the one who invited me and my friend to come) proceeded to address the children there. He gave a short tazkirah reminding the children to never forget to perform their solat and to be respectful to one another. The children were deeply engrossed in his speech and presentation, and when the time for questioning came, clambered over each other for a chance to ask a question. In my mind, I could only think that these children were like any other children. They too were naturally inquisitive and curious.

With the tadhkirah over, the adults huddled together in a circle to discuss what could be done. My mum’s cousin was actually there for a site-visit on behalf of a foundation and they were thinking of ways of how to help this shelter. While my mum’s cousin and some of the present volunteers discussed with the staff, I pulled one abang volunteer aside and engaged him in a short conversation.

From my conversation with him, I found out that the shelter houses children from all over West Malaysia. Some were from Seremban, some were from Kedah, some were from Johor Baru. They came in many ages, with the youngest being seven. These children were sent to the shelter because some of them are orphans, while others experienced great financial difficulties, and others were simply to difficult for their parents to bear with. They lived here in the shelter day and night, living, sleeping, eating and playing in pitiful conditions. Unfortunately, education is not emphasized. Those children who were interested in an education would study while others could just wander around and do what they wanted. Even while we were there, we could see that the children were without order, walking all over the place, when they could be studying, or reciting the quran, or doing something that might actually have a benefit.

Instead, I was told that even when they are housed in the shelter, they still are frequent visitors of the police station. Most of the time, they get caught for stealing. The sad thing was the things that they got caught for stealing were menial objects, mosquito coils and matches. They only stole those so that they could sleep at night.

I wish I had brought along my camera and took pictures of the shelter. Words can only describe so much. It is such an embarrassment to think that such a place existed right next to the renowned International Islamic School and near the International Islamic University. In the words of my friend who is a resident in that area, “ It was as if we left our world and entered a different one.”

Saturday, 1.30 pm

Pusat Aktiviti Kanak-Kanak, Chow Kit

I have to admit, I had some initial reservations about coming to the area, the notorious red-light district of Kuala Lumpur, Lorong Haji Taib. Throughout my schooling years, I’ve heard so much of it from friends but I’ve never actually been there. So finally, I was there, not alone of course, again, with my mother’s cousin and friend to visit a children’s activity center. After a long and complex train ride (which by itself warrants a separate post), we first went to eat some rice before we went. The food at the place that we ate was surprisingly good, though I’m not sure about the price as my mom’s cousin paid for it.

We were led to the center from the eatery by a young boy named Ajmal. When he joined us at our table, I was initially puzzled by his presence and why my mother’s cousin bought drinks for a total stranger. When I realized that he was going to take us to the shelter, I was amazed at the level of courage and confidence the boy had, especially when I had before coming to the place kept my money in two different places for fear of getting mugged.

It was not the only moment in that day that I will feel surprised.

Finally, we reached the center, an unassuming office on the second floor of a shoplot. We were greeted by a volunteer of the foundation and introduced to the couple who ran the place single handedly. We were told that this was a center for street children and it operated between 10 to 5 everyday.

I was dumb-struck. No, actually I blurted out loud, “Street children?” I honestly wasn’t expecting this at all.

These children who come to the center were not only orphans and children whose families face financial difficulties, there were also children of prostitutes and addicts. Everyday before or after school (depending whether they went to school in the morning or in the afternoon), these children come to the center where they get to eat, play and learn in a safe environment. However come 5.00pm, the center is required to cease its daily operations due to a by-law. These children then return to their lives on the streets of KL, and sleep on five-foot-ways and under bridges.

The youngest of the lot there was 7 years old. And though the centre says it welcomes children aged 7-18, the operators say that once they reach 14, they feel that the centre is no longer for them. To them, the centre has become a place for babies and real fun comes outside, from the streets. They then start to get involved with the sorts of ‘social ills’ that we frequently hear so many people complaining about on the television. Then they get caught. Jailed. Released. And the cycle continues.

Yet again, my mother’s cousin was there representing the foundation. They were aware of the limitations brought upon by the by-law, and seeked to convert the center into a shelter, where the children can stay 24 hours. While waiting for the shelter to be set up, they were also looking for programs they can conduct for the children so that they , especially the older ones, will come to the center. Something my mother’s cousin said summed up their plans, they were looking for ways to “build up the heart, because once you’ve built up the heart, the children can return to their homes to their addict parents or under bridges and employ the positive things they’ve learnt from the center even if they were forbidden from returning. And if people come to them and offer them the chance to push drugs or steal motorbikes, they’re able to say, “Terima kasihlah” and decline.”

As we left the shelter that evening, my mind cannot stop thinking of the plight of these street children. As I walked, I saw transvestites and prostitutes advertising their wares. I couldn’t help but think, “How can anyone grow up right in this place?” But as I write this, I feel that that thought reeks of arrogance and In my mind I’m thinking, “How can one not grow up right in this place, where the failures of man is so clear to see? With the brothels, and the drugs, and the broken homes and the street children. This are all reminders to people who reflect.”

It’s odd how after 3 months of research, I could only produce a draft of 1,300 words but two days worth of experience generates a post almost 1700 words long. What I’ve put here is only one small part of the whole story, only what I’ve have been given the priviledge by Allah to see and realize. I wish I could do more, but I can’t. I don’t know what to do and I don’t know how. All I can do for these people is publicise their stories and blog about it. If there is anyone out there who reads this post and feels that they can do something for these children, do tell. I will provide you with more information about them. As for me, I hope that Allah accepts this from me and counts it as a deed. Ameen.