DISINI

Aku lihat kanak-kanak kelaparan Mayat bergelimpangan Derita, sengsara merata-rata Boom! Boom! Bunyi letupan merata-rata tempat Aku Tanya mama, Apa itu Mama? Kata Mama Peperangan sayang Kenapa Mama Kerana ada manusia yang tidak kenal erti syukur Perlukah peperangan Papa? Tidak perlu sayang Kata papa Tapi kenapa masih berperang? Kerana manusia tidak kenal erti kasih saying Tidak kenal erti cinta Mama, Papa, Di sini kita tak perang, ya ? Sekarang, ya Tapi dulu masa Papa kecil Datuk dan dan nenek susah juga kerana perang Suatu masa dulu Jepun menjajah kita Jepun Papa? Jepun Naruto kartun tu, Ye Mama? Ya sayang

Siapa lagi yang jajah kita, Papa? Orang putih Orang putih ? Yang Bahasa Inggeris tu? Ya sayang Tapi adik belajar Bahasa Inggeris Di sekolah Tak boleh ke Mama? Boleh Sekarang semua boleh Sebab dah aman Aman? Tu masih perang kat TV tu Bagaimana Mama? Di sini, kita semua tahu Erti bersyukur Di sini , kita semua tahu Erti kasih sayang Maka di sinilah Bermulanya sebuah cinta Cintakan tanah air Makanya, hidup kita  Aman damai Kita senang kemana-mana Terimakasih Mama, Papa Kerana disini Adik mengenal erti sebuah cinta

A SLICE OF LIFE ( SHORT STORY - 3)

OUR MOTHER

by

Zahariahrin

            My third child is a cute little boy. I consider him to be very lucky. Everyone in the family loves him. A very happy-go-lucky person.

           

            When he was one and a half years old, he started to speak in his baby language ‘fluently’ and most of the time we could not understand some of his baby speech. The best thing is, his brother and sister could understand him. Sometimes, listening to them speak to each other made me smile.  At the age of four he still could not pronounce most of   the   words correctly

            One day, I had extra curriculum activity in school. It was a Saturday. My friend and I had to conduct a Putri Islam Society meeting. Being a busybody he watched my friend writing notes. I tried to pull him away from my friend’s table, but he kept going back to her. He watched her very attentively and then to our surprise, he popped up with, “ Mak tita tuyih tambung, tan,” as he turned to look at his sister. My friend and the pupils laughed. What he meant was , “Mak kita tulis sambung, kan.”  which meant, “Our mother writes in cursive.”            

A SLICE OF LIFE (SHORT STORY - 2)

                                                       WHERE IS MY BOTTLE?

                                                                           by
                                                                 
                                                                   ZahariahRin

            My second child is a very tiny cutie. A daughter that has the lookalike of a Japanese girl.


            On the first day, after delivery, as the nurse was pushing me (in a trolley-bed) with my

 baby at the end of my feet, a few Chinese teenagers were passing-by. They were admiring

her and talking to each other in their mother tongue, which meant " Waa.. very cute.." and

at the same time, was looking at me in a questionable way. Maybe they were wondering,

how could this Malay lady give birth to a sort of Chinese-Japanese looking baby.

I smiled at them restlessly.


          At the age of one, she developed a habit of throwing her bottle away after taking her

formula.When it was 'feeding time' she would ask me for her milk. I would ask her,

 " Where is your bottle?"   She would look at me bluntly and answered, "Bottle," in her

baby language. I would usually nod and then she would bend her body very low until her

head went down between her legs; and then, looked around between the legs and said,

" Where?" After that she would look up at me and said ,"None."

By doing this, she would walk quietly to the sofa and waited for her formula to be sent to her.

Her elder brother, Yusof, would then bring me their bottles.

       
         Though, at times when I was very tired with my daily routine,  having these two angels

at that time made me smile and felt thankful to have such wonderful children.

GRAMMAR PRACTICE (KIND HOOK)

 This is Captain Hook. ______1______ and his men are at a polluted beach.           They are collecting rubbish. He is picking up  the papers and  carrying _____2_______ sack of rubbish on his shoulder. There are a lot _3_____ empty cans on the beach.     Mr Smith is putting the rubbish _____4____ the garbage bag. Robert is collecting empty bottles. David is collecting used boxes. They ____5_____ working together to free the beach from pollution. 

1.         A.   It                     B.   She                       C.   He                      D.   They

2.         A.   the                   B.   a                         C.   an                       D.   -

3.         A.   so                    B.   to                         C.   too                      D.   of

4.        A.   into               B.   above                C.   onto                  D.   near

 5         A.   is                    B.   are                       C.  does                     D.   do

A SLICE OF LIFE ( SHORT STORY -1)

HOT

by

Zahariahrin

            In 1987, my first born son was only aged one and  a half year. He was tiny, cute and very curious. Everything that he saw, he would play with it. I was staying in a rented house in Kampung Datuk Keramat in the outskirts of  Kuala Lumpur. My kitchen was a tiny one and I had a kerosene stove which was located on worn out table. The table was such because of all the four legs of the table  had been shortened by the previous tenant. My cute little son, Yusof, could reach the stove when he stood.

            Every morning, after boiling water in a kettle, I would leave the hot kettle on the stove. He came to me in the kitchen and started asking questions such as, “ What’s this?” Usually, before I could turn around, he would start to touch , pick up the things and started playing with it. So, whenever he came to the stove, I would say, “ Don’t touch. It’s hot.” This had been going on everyday several times a day.

During the school holidays, I went to my sister’s house. Yusof ventured into her kitchen and when he saw the kettle on my sister’s stove, his cute little mouth spitted out  the word “ hot!”  The whole family laughed.

“What have you been teaching your son, Rin?” My sister asked me.

            I was speechless as I hugged Yusof.