Bits and Pieces

Okay, okay must get into this habit of blogging again. I'll do a rotidua and just write whatever that comes to mind. (You know that's what you do, Nina)

First an announcement : My two girls want to learn traditional Malay dance, ever since they saw Didda Malik during a rehearsal for an Avon perfume launch. My husband thinks I'm putting that idea into Aiysha and Aliya's heads, which may be true, but who cares. I'm not letting my kids grow up as plebeians. If I don't force culture into their throats, they may grow up thinking "Who Lives in a Pineapple Under the Sea" was a traditional ditty.

So last Sunday, I brought the girls for their first lesson at Dida's sprawling bungalow in Taman Duta. The class was more of a great female get-together : good-humoured, interesting women and their charges learning Zapin, amid lots of laughter and the smell of sambal tumis wafting from the kitchen. I so wished I could join them, but they were, like Aiysha said, "the expert" class; and these mummies and their children had been coming for lessons for quite some time. Aiysha couldn't get her steps right and cried. Aliya, despite looking adorable in her kain susun kipas and her brass tali pinggang, refused to even join lessons.

I wasn't about to be defeated and allow my husband the smugness of victory. Didda said the girls need to join a beginner's class, but the problem is, she doesn't have any. Now, I need to create one. So my announcement is : would there be any mummies out there who might want to send their daughters to learn Malay classical dance? The girls would essentially be trained in gamelan. (Don't worry, no hantu this one) Didda charges only (only!!) 80 ringgit per month, for weekly lessons, and I need just another four girls, preferably between 5 to 8 years old, to make up a class. Why would you want to? One, you're ensuring the survival of such an important facet of classical Malay culture. Two, you'd get to know Didda, who must be the most gracious and most gregarious person this side of Batu Pahat. And three (most importantly), you'll help me win this argument with my husband. (I promise I'll help you when you have one with yours) Please email your interest to : mokciknab@gmail.com.

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Did I tell you that we bought a second hand Renault Megane? We had no idea that in French, Megane means "Put Your Money into a Hole in The Ground and Take the Public Transport". The car has broken down so many times, it needs Prozac. My husband needs Prozac, too -- everytime something goes wrong, the kids get a lesson in the human reproductive system, as well as learn about parts of the anatomy essential in the digestive process. Unfortunately, it's not very scientific. Adam has since asked about the significance of someone's mother's errm, vagina.

mokciknab muttered at 12:47 pm ~ ~